Proverb/24/USA/(she/her/siya)Resident Fic Writing Menace (Including đ content) Latest Work:-EPIC: The Siren Saga on AO3-Pfp by @kirstenly
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regardless of what you were gonna write the idea of siren and poseidon having a kid is so funny bc imagine this kid grows up and asks how they met đ€Šââïž me personally? i'd have a fake story prepared before that kid is even born đ
LMAO I DIDNâT EVEN THINK OF THAT
Hypothetical kid that may or may not exist: âMama, youâre a mortal right?â
âYes, hon, thatâs correct.â
âAnd Papa is the God of the Seas?â
âThe one and only :)â
âSoâŠhow did you and Papa meet?â
*grip tightens around her spindle, loom screeches to a halt*
âW-well, uhâŠâ *clears throat* âMama was a very devoted follower of your Papa. He gifted me a very special shell when I was just about your age. After years and years of speaking into the shell, your Papa answered back when I wasâŠumâŠp-prayingâŠâ
âWhat were you praying about?â
âW-well- IâŠwas praying to have an amazing and wonderful child of course! And here you are, my little treasure~â âphew that was a close oneâ
âIs that when you got pregnant? Did Papa put me in your belly with his magic?â
â*snaps spindle in half* :D Aha HA- um, n-no dear. Thatâs not, that- you know what, why donât you talk to your father about this, hm?â
â
âPapa, Iâm a demigod right?â
âYes, little one, you are indeed.â
âSoâŠdid you put me in Mamaâs belly with your magic when she prayed and asked you for me?â
*spits out nectar* ââŠWhere did you get that idea, guppy?â
âWell, Mama said you met when she prayed into her shell and asked you for a child. She wouldnât tell me how you answered her prayer though.â
âPFFT- I, uh. Ahem. I suppose thatâs one way to describe what she was asking for that dayâŠâ
#I might have to turn this into a whole one shot in this series lol this was too funny#I can just see Poseidon taking the piss out of Siren every day after this#proverb answers#epic: the siren saga
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ooo or siren even playing w his hair đ„ș i feel like she would do that a lot. do his braids or switch it up a bit
Ugh yâall are making me want to write fluff drabbles with them I swear, this is so fricken cute.
I do have a short, 5-minute exercise blurb to satisfy the need for soft Poseidon moments. Itâs not necessarily related but hey, itâs on theme:
â
âWhat are you doing, pet?â
You werenât sure yourself. You were bold, but even this felt like a little much. And yet, seeing your god cross legged upon your kline, reclining as he examined a tablet of clay, his lap seemed like the most comfortable place in the world. âI just wanted to join you,â you answered, turning around and settling against his firm chest.
Poseidon seemed hesitant, his hand hovering over your shoulder as you tried to quell your racing heart. Eventually, however, you felt the steadying weight of his palm over your thigh and you relaxed further into his warm embrace. To your right, the tablet reappeared, and Poseidon settled his head atop yours as he resumed reading. You busied yourself as well, wrapping your thread into a neat spool.
It was soothing, just sitting here like this. You were engrossed in your own respective tasks, in your own responsibilities as weaver and ruler. But you were doing them together, bound by the security of each otherâs company. The whole situation felt so domestic, so right, and your traitorous, hubris-filled heart wanted to stay like this forever.
If this is what life partnership could look like, maybe having a husband wouldnât be so bad. No, that wasnât it. You smiled to yourself, a secret thought just for youâthe only reason it felt so right was because it was Poseidonâs embrace you were resting in.
â
If you want more Poseidon fluff, might I suggest @mannythemunchkinâs Sitting in Poseidonâs Lap one shot she wrote for me? Thereâs also @lisalamonaâs Average Midnight Water Break and @ghibli-love-ssâs Hold Me Close (And Never Let Me Go) for all your sweet, lighthearted reading needs đ
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I got my own damn timeline confused đ
w h o o p s
The person who may or may not be Telemachus IS going to show up in this installment which will have consequences moving forward. Only time will tell what those consequences are tho lol
YIPPEEEE INDEPENDENCE DAY EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR MALIGAYANG ARAW NG KALAYAAN đ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đ DIRING PRIDE MONTH? NO COINCIDENCE
AND ok ngl when i read the second chapter and saw all the details about the haloa and the fertility rites/rituals i wasn't paying it too much mind but now that you've said there's gonna be smut i've been putting pieces together in my brain... đ”âđ« ykw i love mess, let poseidon confront her parents if he's gonna mess around like that
AND omfg weaver's temple PLEAAAASE tell me that's telemachus this is đđ i was wondering if ody or anyone from the royal family might come up again bc poseidon keeps coming back to ithaca now lmfao
-fairyfalls
Damn straight đ€đ€đ€ (orâŠnot- not straight at all really⊠you get what I mean.)
Is the scene with Ariane (Sirenâs mother) already written out in my drafts? Perhaps đ€
Idk man guess youâre gonna have to wait for the fourth installment hehehe (I am incapable of writing short stories bro like what do I MEAN thereâs a fourth installment planned, someone stop me)
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YIPPEEEE INDEPENDENCE DAY EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR MALIGAYANG ARAW NG KALAYAAN đ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đ DIRING PRIDE MONTH? NO COINCIDENCE
AND ok ngl when i read the second chapter and saw all the details about the haloa and the fertility rites/rituals i wasn't paying it too much mind but now that you've said there's gonna be smut i've been putting pieces together in my brain... đ”âđ« ykw i love mess, let poseidon confront her parents if he's gonna mess around like that
AND omfg weaver's temple PLEAAAASE tell me that's telemachus this is đđ i was wondering if ody or anyone from the royal family might come up again bc poseidon keeps coming back to ithaca now lmfao
-fairyfalls
Damn straight đ€đ€đ€ (orâŠnot- not straight at all really⊠you get what I mean.)
Is the scene with Ariane (Sirenâs mother) already written out in my drafts? Perhaps đ€
Idk man guess youâre gonna have to wait for the fourth installment hehehe (I am incapable of writing short stories bro like what do I MEAN thereâs a fourth installment planned, someone stop me)
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Me to Me: âDude PLEASE stop waxing poetic in your descriptions I am begging you, we need to get this next chapter out people have been asking for more smut since Chapter 3-â
Also Me:

This is just the intro description. I only have an outline for the rest. Am I going to have to split this into multiple chapters again??? đđđđđđ
#why do I do this#just shut up Proverb SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE-#in a prison of my own making#proverbial rambling#epic: the siren saga
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Sure hope a god doesnât come around and punish him for his hubris
#excellent#these tags make it even better lol#from prev>>#this scene in the odyssey was somehow even more out of pocket than what we see in epic#because what do you mean ody got out of the cave#went âwait a sec. actually iâm mad.â#then proceeded to dox himself.#and by shouting gave away his location on the water#so polyphemus could yeet a boulder at him#and then he keeps yapping#and eurylochus is like captain please chill w that#and odyâs like: whatâs he gonna do? throw another boulder?#and then polyphemus throws a second boulder#odyssey#odysseus#epic the musical
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Mwahahahaha, it's my turn now. đ Dionysus lives rent free in my brainhole, sooooo, if you're willing to indulge me, maybe some Dio being a tease, maybe even at a party in a secluded corner. No matter what, I know it'll SLAP. đ
Okay, that's it. LOVE YOU đžđžđž
Oh gosh I'm finally done with this one. No beta bc honestly this has taken me long enough and lowkey I need to go to sleep now LMAO but I hope you enjoy my dear đđ
Wanna Dance?
Summary: You're a palace guard at Olympus who was taken from her duties into a role altogether unfamiliar for one of Zeus' banquets. You're out of your element, but you are in the element of a certain god, and said god has no problem showing you the ropes...
Word Count: 2,752
Tags: Alcohol, brief altercation, but if you can believe it nothing else LMAO
Line divider by @/vibeswithrenai found here Screencap from @/neal-illustrator's Rush animatic
This had to be the worst day of your life.
You were a harpy, one of the privileged few to have the honor of serving under the exalted Horai, standing guard over Olympus itself. Day after day, you would patrol its hallowed halls, your hand resting atop the hilt of your sword as you remained ever vigilant. You prided yourself on your skill with the blade andâwhen all else failedâthe sharpness of your claws. Indeed, you were a warrior through and through, so when it came time for another one of Zeusâs banquets, you expected to take your place standing watch at the edges of the party once more.
What you had not expected was the number of guests that would be attending said banquet. Evidently, neither had Zeus. One by one, you had watched the servants of Olympus get pulled from their original posts to act as cupbearers for the overwhelming throng of deities that had come to bask in the God Kingâs opulence. When they ran out of servants, they began to pull soldiers. And when they ran out of soldiers, wellâŠ
Needless to say, you had found yourself in a fate far worse than deathâserving wine to major and minor gods like some sort of dainty little nymph.
If it would not be so horrifically disrespectful to your sovereign, you would have thrown yourself off the edge of the peak by now, your wings be damned. You doubted Zeus would have cared about you specifically, but if you damaged his reputation by making such a scene at his banquet? You doubted even the plane between the living and the dead could have separated you from the Thunder Bringerâs wrath.
Speaking of making a scene, it seemed like some of the banquet guests did not have the same wisdom nor foresight that you did. You saw a wave of commotion ripple through the crowd and after depositing your tray on a nearby table, you made your way past the raucous gods and goddesses all the way to the source. At the center of the drunken horde, you came across one of the palace servants held at the wrist by some minor earth god whose name you could not be bothered to remember. He was yelling obscenities at her, barely intelligible through his pronounced slurring. The servant cowered under him, only tearing her eyes away from his enraged face to scan the crowd with a fearful and pleading look.
As soon as you locked eyes with the poor nymph, your body moved as if on instinct. Before you knew it, you had the minor god with his face pressed against the gilded pavement, his arm bent painfully backwards in your firm grasp. âY-you!â the earth god shouted, his voice muted beneath his smushed cheek. âGet off me, you feathered wretch!â
You clicked your tongue at him and only pressed your foot deeper between his shoulder blades. âYou dare to disrespect the King of the Gods with this disruption?â you hissed, twisting the godâs arm even further. He winced in pain then opened his mouth to retort, surely to call you every name in the scrolls, but was interrupted by the booming sound of deep, reverberant laughter.
âIt would be in your best interest to listen to the harpy, my dear guest,â Zeus chided as he approached. The crowd went silent, each and every onlooker holding their breath in anticipation. You felt the god begin to shake violently in your hold and you released him, just managing to refrain from spitting on him as you stepped back and took your place behind your King. The earth god scrambled onto his hands and knees, spinning to bow at Zeusâ feet. From his mouth, epithets and apologies flowed forth like a dam burst until finally Zeus lifted his right foot and tucked the strap of his sandal under the lesser godâs chin.
With a flick of his ankle, he forced the godâs attention upward and regarded him with a baleful smile. âSince this is a party and Iâd hardly want to ruin the mood, you may have my mercyâfor now. Do try to mind your manners, though. Well-â Zeus tilted his head and you watched on, your lips curling downward into a grimace as lighting danced between his golden, textured strands. âYou best do more than just try.â
Zeus lowered his foot and stepped back, leaving the god to offer one last pathetic croak of gratitude before stumbling to his hands and knees and all but sprinting away. You relaxed with a small sigh only to tense all over again when you caught Zeus looking at you over his shoulder. âWell done,â he praised with a mirthful chuckle. âImpressive moves you got there, little one.â You bowed at the waist, only lifting your head when you felt his hand on your arm, so large that his fingertips almost reached the base of your right wing. âNow then, back to work! These guests wonât serve themselves!â
Zeus laughed, larger than life and just as deafening, before releasing you and striding off toward a gaggle of sea goddesses who immediately began giggling amongst themselves. You straightened your back and inhaled deeply through your nose, your muscles already spasming with frustrated tension. With a slow, measured exhale, you rolled your shoulders and returned to the table to retrieve your tray.
No sooner had you picked up the platter and loaded two flutes onto it than you were interrupted by another voice, this one entirely unfamiliar to you:
âOur magnanimous king wasnât wrong. You sure know how to put on a show, sweetheart.â
You turned to find a god sauntering over to you with a confident, sultry sway of his hips. His tanned skin contrasted well with his fluffy, sandy blond hair and his purple himation; though, for a himation, you would hardly classify it as a garmentâafter all, it failed to cover much of anything. The godâs torso was exposed for the entirety of Olympus to see, from his toned chest all the way down to the dip of his pelvis. To complete his flamboyant ensemble, he wore several pieces of fine jewelry and had a leopardâs pelt draped over his shoulders, topped off with grape leaves and an unmistakable golden laurel.
You had never heard this godâs voice before, but you sure as hell knew who you were looking at.
âThank you, Lord Dionysus,â you bowed, bringing your free hand to rest diagonally across your chest. âI am honored to receive your praise.â
Dionysus threw his head back and laughed, and while it too sounded larger than life, his laughter was far smoother than Zeusâ had been. It was melodic, rich in tone yet somehow airy at the same time, and it was unmistakably jovial in the way that only the God of Wine and Festivityâs laughter could be. âProper little thing, arenât ya?â he teased, righting himself. âWhat a cutie~â
âI-I beg your pardon, my lord?â you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave before you could wrangle it back under control. Your eyes went wide as an unfamiliar heat crept up your face. Were youâŠwere you blushing? Gods above and around, you couldnât recall the last time you had ever, had everâŠblushed.
Dionysus smirked at you, his eyes crinkling smugly beneath his long dark lashes. âI called you cute, wings,â he chuckled. âThis is the part where you say, âthank youâ.âÂ
You blinked a few times, still flabbergasted that a major god like Dionysus was exchanging more than a few words with you, much less complimenting you. Not on your skill, not on your technique, but your appearance of all things. Eventually, you were able to break out of your stupor enough to form a somewhat coherent response. âI, uh⊠t-thank you, my lord. You are too kind.â
Dionysus hummed amusedly, that smirk still plastered firmly upon his face. âAnd you are far too rigid for this kind of party. It wouldnât kill ya to loosen up a little. Especially since you finally get to join us in the heart of it all and instead of being stuck patrolling the outskirts with that longing stare of yours.â
Now that gave you pause. This was the first banquet you had served as a cupbearer, but it was hardly the first banquet you had been on duty. Just as Dionysus said, your role had typically been to stand watch over the perimeter or to deal with the occasional rowdy guest. You were no stranger to these soirées, but you certainly considered yourself a stranger to their guests. So then how did Dionysus know you were a guard?
Dionysus watched the confusion twist your features with a self-satisfied purse of his lips. âCâmon, birdieâya think I havenât been to enough of these things to recognize a familiar face?â he teased. âItâs not the first time Iâve seen you in action either. Such graceful footworkâŠshame you waste it on tackling brutes when you could be out there dancing instead.âÂ
The god before you pressed his bent wrist to his forehead with a wistful sigh and, had it not been for how severely he outranked you, you may have even scoffed. Dancing, like some court charlatan, when you had a job to do? When you had beings of unquantifiable importance to protect? Perish the damn thought. Nevermind how fun it looked, twirling around through the crowd, weaving between the clamoring bodies to the lively beat of the drum and the bright strum of the lyre? No youâŠthat kind of life was not meant for you. You were not meant for it. You were a warrior, a faithful servant, and it was about time Dionysus remembered that and stopped wasting his time and yours.
âI am perfectly happy with my responsibilities, my lord,â you asserted with a tight, thin lipped smile. Dionysus stilled, scrutinizing your face as if to pierce through to your innermost thoughts with his stare alone. The feeling of being studied, perceived, intensely unnerved you, but you tightened your smile even further and raised your tray toward him nonetheless. âWhy donât you go ahead and get back to the dance floor, Lord Dionysus?â you deflected, offering the flutes to him. âThere are plenty of guests here who would make great dance partners.â
For once, the smirk that was practically etched onto his divine, annoyingly pretty face almost seemed to falter. Still, he finally reached out and took the flutes off of your platter. You nodded at him respectfully, prepared to turn back around and refill your supply. You did a double take, however, as Dionysus casually lifted both of his arms and bent his elbows back, flinging the nectar from the glasses. The golden liquid hit the ground with an audible âsplashâ and your jaw followed before you could stop it, your widened eyes flitting rapidly between the marble slabs and Dionysusâ pleased face.
âOh donât look too distraught, sweetie,â Dionysus quipped. âThat stuff was no better than juiceâin comparison to what I can provide, that is.âÂ
He shifted to hold both flutes in his left hand and, with his right one now free, rolled his wrist in a small circle. Along with the motion, a streak of light filled the air, spiraling into a singular point and depositing a large golden goblet filled to the brim with a bubbling purple liquid. Dionysus then lifted the cup high over his head and poured the wine into the empty flutes with an elegant flourish. And he had said you knew how to put on a show.
You gave him a smile that you hoped didnât look as terse as it felt, resisting the urge to applaud sarcastically. Eventually, you decided on a polite dip of your head, prepared to get back to your duties and let him get back to partying. However, when you lifted your gaze, you were shocked to find Dionysus was holding one of the flutes out to you, waving it back and forth enticingly. You stared at the cup with one brow raised before your gaze shifted to focus on the god behind it with his playful, ever-present smirk.
âYour offer is generous, Lord Dionysus,â you attested, evenly as you could with your patience waning, âbut I must apologize for having to decline. Cupbearers are not allowed to take part in any libationsâthey are only to be enjoyed by guests.â You steeled your resolve, readying yourself to deflect any further insistence on Dionysusâ part. You expected a disappointed shrug, an offended glare, or perhaps even a few berating words.
What you should have expected was that Same. Damn. Smirk.
âWell,â he began, his voice low and inviting as he looked you up and down, âthen consider yourself my guest for this evening, yeah?â
You felt your jaw tense, gritting your teeth behind what you hoped was a relatively neutral expression. âIâŠcannot abandon my post, Lord Dionysus,â you reiterated. Were you not keen on attracting attention by prolonging your interactions with the literal life of the party? Absolutely. Were you afraid of incurring Zeusâs ire, an ire which there was no chance in Elysium youâd survive? Undoubtedly so. But perhaps even more so than all of that, you simply didnât know how to âloosen up a littleâ. And while you would always pride yourself on your discipline, you werenât entirely sure at this point that you didnât want to learnâŠ
Unfortunately, Dionysus had picked up on your hesitation. Out of the blue, his eyes shone with a particular glint and before you knew it he was upon you. He walked you down, stalking toward you like a leopard who knew its kill was secured, flutes still in hand and a knowing smile upon his face. You lifted your empty tray in a feeble attempt to create space between you and your aggressor, praying your silver shield would be enough to fend off his effortless, persuasive charisma. Before you knew it, you found yourself at a pillar, back pressed against it with the uncharacteristically naive hope that you would melt into it and escape his smug stare and even more smug smirk. But alas, all you did was give him a surface to lean against as he towered over you, making you feel smaller than any cyclops or chimera ever had.
âCâmon, birdie,â he murmured, gentle and soft as if speaking to a cornered animal (which you very much were). âYouâve battled more monsters and miscreants than I could count, Iâm sure. Is the big, bad harpy really this scared of dancing with me?â Against all odds, trapped between Dionysusâ toned bicep and his tilted head, you were scared. You were scared of your racing heart, your sweaty palms, and the flustered way he was making you feel. You were scared of the side of you he was bringing out, a side you never knew existed, and you almost felt like you were going mad.
Dionysus leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear as he chuckled. âI promiseâŠIâll take care of ya, sweetheart. So why donât you relax and have some fun for once?â He pulled back, just enough for you to look him right in his lidded eyes, and you swallowed hard as you finally remembered how to breathe. He waited there in that same position, not advancing but also not letting you retreat, and patiently looked you up and down as his smirk grew wider and wider in the prolonged silence.
Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you were indeed a warrior through and through. You may not have had a damn clue about what you were about to get into, but damn it all if you were going to back down from this cocky bastard of god and his stupid challenge. You eyed the flute in his left hand and swiftly swiped it from his grasp, surprising him just enough for him to step away and give you space to throw your head back and down the wine in one go.Â
The cup now empty, you snapped forward and wiped the trickling liquid with your forearm, staring Dionysus down with a fire in your eyes as you finally, finally got to see that damn smirk all off his face. But of course, it was back before you knew it, a playful, fae-like sparkle dancing in his gaze.
ââAtta girl.â
With that, Dionysus grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the center of the banquet, his laughter so jovial and infectious that soon enough, you found yourself laughing right along with him.
#proverbs writing#proverb answers#dionysus#greek mythology#famtheon#inspired by neal's dio bc ofc it is#greek mythology x reader#dionysus x reader#2nd person pov#no y/n#reader insert#x reader#greek gods
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i just got the idea of siren weaving something just for poseidon âčïž and him cherishing it foreverrrr knowing nobody else will have it and that it's a personal gift not of worship like the tapestry but just for him
Wait stop thatâs so cute đ„șđ„șđ„ș I did actually have plans for her to give him a gift that she made but itâs not a tapestry lol, might have to add this in too thoâŠ
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Saw a characterâs pose from the hades game and i thought it was super cool so
also experimenting with looser lines bcz i hate lineart sometimes
kind of a redo of the other doodle of zeus a while back (youll probably find it if you scroll down)
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ok first of all. SEA DEITY SANDWICH HAS MY GAY ASS FUCKED UP!!!!! I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE đđ„ second of all, son of the sea is WILD but now u just have me worrying about siren's parents đ i was assuming she wasn't getting đ€° thru divine interference idk BUT NOW I'M WORRIED ABOUT MY GIRL!!!
also if i may, i would like to know about the weaver's temple đ«Ł
advance happy independence day btw kababayan -fairyfalls
ANG MAMATAY NG DAHIL SAYOOOOOOOO đ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đđ”đ
Ahem. Happy Pride, aking kababayan lol đłïžâđđłïžââ§ïž
Listen. Iâm trying so hard not to spoil things but ALL IM SAYING is that I have laid out a very specific set of circumstances in this current installment and not even a god is free of the consequences of his actions.
Anyways, The Weaverâs Templeâso, our dear siren is working on a tapestry, yeah? Thing is, sheâs been so wrapped up in all of her adventures with Poseidon that sheâs neglected to pay respect to the patron of her craft. Closer to the end of her working on the tapestry, she goes to the Temple of the Goddess of Wisdom, War, & Weaving. While there, she encounters a notable worshiper of Athena:
âOh my stars, Iâm so sorry!â
âOh, no no itâs okay! Sorry, I wasnât watching where I was going, I got way too close to you.â
The man is slightly taller than her, but not by much. He has dark brown hair, almost black, that cascades down to right below his ears in textured waves. Heâs pretty young, maybe early twenties? Heâs just about lost the youthful roundness of his face, a strong jawline emerging thatâs dotted with subtle stubble. You notice heâs wearing some gold jewelry and oh fuck heâs from the upper class. Oh fuck, your libation-
The young manâs chiton is now stained with the dark liquid of your honey wine. From one glance alone, you can tell the linen is high quality, the layered threads set and sewn with intention. Oh gods thatâs probably so expensive.
You open your mouth to say something, anything. You consider apologizing, begging for forgiveness, offering to pay for the damagesâwait, scratch that last one, thereâs no way you can afford thatâbut he notices you staring at his chest before you can decide on the best course of action.
âHuh? Oh. Oh! Oh no⊠I-I mean, no! No itâs okay! No itâs alright really, you donât, donât worry about this,â he stuttered, realizing how much his alarm had caused all the color to drain from your face. âItâs really no big deal, I can have it cleaned. I justâŠit was a gift from my father, thatâs the only reason I was a little startled.â
This boy does not realize how much that just makes you panic even more.
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ÎŒÎ±ÎŻÎœÎżÎŒÎ±Îč
#well#this was well timed#hades supergiant#dionysus#listen simping for poseidon might be my brand but#wine has never done me wrong đââïž
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Since I've been answering my inbox:
If you sent me a request, I promise I see you and I hear you! I just don't want to respond to the ask 'til I actually have something to show for it haha. Working on a Dionysus request rn and will be making my way through over the next few days, cheers for your patience :)
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Hi!... It's me!... Again! đ
I just couldn't stop thinking about both "The bottom club" and "son of the sea" from the wip thingy
Would you be so kind as to tell us what they're about?

(Ofc you don't have to talk about both... Unless you want to đ)
LMAO you're the cutest, ty for the flowers dear đ
Okay soooo let's do this one by one, shall we?
Son of the Sea - This was originally going to be the title of the fourth installment of The Siren Saga, but I think I'm going to use it as a chapter name instead. I can't really reveal much because it would be a heavy spoiler (though, I'm sure you could guess a plot point or two based on the title alone), but I can share an excerpt from what I have planned as the first chapter:
âAh, thatâs much better. Now, I believe you had a message for me to carry, hm?â Youâre still dizzy, but you right yourself as best you can and clear your throat. âYes, Lord Hermes. I would like to reach Lord Poseidon, He of All Waters. I request his presence as soon as possibleâ âOho! So the rumors are true? Uncle really has found a new favorite mortal?â Youâre shocked. âI-I wouldnât go that far, Lord Hermes.â âMmm, but youâd go far enough to throw together a haphazard offering to ask me to reach him?â Hah, got em. âWhat, is your lover not answering your calls?â âI-!â Exhale. âMy prayers as his servant are for his exaltation alone, whether or not he responds to them is not important. But this is an urgent matter.â âOkay, okayâwhatever you say, darling, Iâll go let Uncle Poseidon know youâre looking for him, on one condition.â âWhat is it, Lord Hermes?â âYou tell me what makes this matter so urgent, of course!â
I am so excited to write this little shit, I swear. Gotta a whole lot to get through first though, alas (but more content for y'all).
----
The Bottom Club - Well... um... so I wasn't originally an EPIC author... My first work was actually called Life is in Redemption and it...may have been an OC x Lucifer Morningstar fic...
In a futile attempt to hide my shame, I'm putting this one below the cut LMAO
AD - Angel Dust | V - Vaggie | A - Aira (my OC) | L - Lucifer AD: And so I said! If youâre gonna have that attitude with me, you can suck ya own dick, sweetheart. V: Ew, butâŠdeserved. Good on ya, Angel- C: Vaggie sweetie! Have you seen my bow tie? V: Check the top left drawer on the vanity, dear. You always put it away there when youâre too tired. C: Ugh, youâre the best, thank you!!! AD: âŠâŠ..âŠSo she tops, right? A: *spits out drink* Angel. V: I- I, wha- um A: *glares* AD: What??? Listen toots, from one bottom to another: game respects game. Iâm more of a power bottom myself, but I can get behind the more cutesy shit too. A: Angel Dust. V: *sputters* I- I am not âcutesyâ AD: Oh come on! Itâs a compliment! Everyone loves the whole âblushing like a virginâ thing, thatâs like top tier fantasy content! A: Anthony. AD: Oh piss off, Ai, youâre just bitter youâre not in The Bottom Club. V: The what? AD: Yeah, Fizz and I started it. And you, doll face, are the latest member. V: I am not- A: Can you stop speculating about Vaggieâs sex life without her fucking permission?! AD: Ooh, okay, Your Highness. You talk to the short king in bed like that? A: Fucking excuse me? AD: Come onnnn, the military discipline, the maternal instincts, the quiet confidenceâitâs a Dommy Mommy cocktail! Wait, do you peg him? A: I will end you a second time- L: Hey! Apple Crisp! Take a selfie with me! A: Wh- No, not- not now, Luce. L: Oh come on, itâs for Leviâhe said he and Phoebe were cuter than us. A: Amor, I am not getting into your petty- *cue the camera on Airaâs unamused face, Lucifer grinning ear to ear beside her* L: Aira, dearestâŠsmile for me? A: *sighs* đ L: Theeeere we go. Good girl. A: Lucifer-! L: *little peck* Thaaank you, sweetie, love you see you later! A: ⊠V: ⊠AD: âŠwell Iâll be damned. Welcome to The Bottom Club, Ai~ V: *blushes* A: *groans*
Sigh. I've rereading LiiR and man are we thankful for author growth đđ Still contemplating coming back to it, we shall see lol
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Proverb. You. You know why I'm here. I'm staring at ur WIPs ....
Odyseidon Bookshop AU you say...... I am staring....
Love ya homie keep up the good work :3c
Much love to you friend haha <3
Yeah okay so this oneâit was actually inspired by the Odyssey Bookstore in Ithaca, NY! Wicked cute shop, total local small business vibes, has a really cozy feel to it. I was devouring nakariialeâs Odyseidon modern au on Instagram at the time and thus this idea was born.
No clue if Iâm gonna do anything with it, but hereâs literally everything I have written (in a very rough state) since it likely wonât see the light of day for quite some time, if ever:
Once upon a time, the Mediterranean Sea had been the center of the universe.
It was a land of gods and monsters, where heroes rose and fell like the tides of the ocean they called home. Apolloâs chariot would champion the day, carrying the domain of Helios across the sky until his sister would cross the horizon and bathe the night in a lunar glow. Mortal cities of stone and prose staked their claims for supremacy and waged wars over ideology, trade, andâmost importantlyâlove. Truly, it was a place of legends, where legacies were established and endured hundreds of thousands of lifetimes, never to be consumed by the ravenous maw of the Titan of Time.
But of course, every beginning must have an end.
The world was bigger now. The earth was a globe that spun on an axis in the midst of the vast reaches of outer space. Greece was just one of the hundreds of nations that sprung up along the rivers and coasts of the surface. Heroes did not fight with swords and wits, battling foes face-to-face. They waged their wars with missiles and drones, far removed from the suffering they wroughtâthe suffering that was born out of hatred and distrust. And the legends? They were treated as fables rather than facts, nothing more than words on a page bound in thick spines of cardboard and glossy sheets of acrylic.
Odysseus found comfort in these stories. They transported him to different worlds, worlds where heroes got to return home to families made whole, worlds where love endured and thrived. These stories were a welcome reprieve from the coldness of his reality. It was an escape for him, a fantasy that he could conjure in his mindâs eye as he traced the letters on each page, letting the dark ink flow over his heart in hopes that it could one day mask the gaping, bleeding wounds. Perhaps that is why he found himself as an employee of that small bookstore on West Green Street, nestled in the heart of Downtown Ithaca, a stoneâs throw from Cayuga Lake.
The irony of being a man named âOdysseusâ living in a city named âIthacaâ was not lost on him. His parents had named him after his grandfatherâs favorite folklore hero, a reminder of the homeland they had left for greener pastures and greener wallets. There was more opportunity in the States, his parents had said, a more stable economy. They had chosen to settle in Ithaca as a way to stay connected to the island which had housed their family for generations. Odysseus had received his name as a reminder that they could always come home, once they had achieved their âAmerican Dreamâ of course. Such a notion only pained Odysseus nowânearly thirty years and that so-called dream was still a far way off from being fulfilled.
His memories of Ithaca the island were few and far between. The sound of wind rustling through crops here, the smell of saltwater thereâthey were the only kinds of memories that a childâs mind could hold onto. He had been young when they left Greece, old enough to still be mildly fluent in his native tongue but not old enough to form any truly meaningful connections. And yet, Ithaca was somehow always on his mind. For as long as he had been capable of conscious thought, Odysseus had this peculiar attachment to the concept of âhomeâ. It was a persistent yearning, a sense that there was somewhere he was supposed to be, somewhere he that he just hadnât found yet. It was why he threw himself into everything at full speed, from his primary school sports teams to the US Navyâanything to find a place where he felt he truly belonged.
Maybe that was why when a stranger waltzed into the shop that day, his briney musk intermingling with the musty pulp of the books and the lavender diffusers on the walls, Odysseus paid more attention to the man with the stone gray hair than he usually would have.
*Insert Description of Poseidon*
Heâs hottttttttt
He reminds Odyssesus of sunsets on the shore, of the sand beneath his feet and the roar of the ocean as the waves crashed into the earth.
He knows heâs never seen this man before in his lifeâhe would have remembered such a handsome face. But at the same time, he feels so distinctly familiar, like a name on the tip of his tongue or a face in a crowd that he can almost place.
Poseidon surveys the shop and freezes when he sees Ody
Ody notices a flash of recognition, then confusion, then rage, then Seidon opens his mouth as if to yell but then clamps it shut and his nostrils flare instead.
Poseidon all but stomps over to Ody
Dialogue 1
âHey. Whereâs your boss?â
âSophia? Sheâs not in yet. Should be here any minute now.â
Poseidon snorts. âFuckinâ figures. Tilts his chin at Ody. âYou a new hire or something? Whereâs the kid?â
Ody trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. âWhenâs the last time you were here? Percy only works at the shop during the summer. He started college like, two years ago.â
Poseidon glares at him. He somehow looks more mad than he should, even for being talked back to.
Under his breath, âFuckinâ wise ass.â Poseidon sticks his hands in his pockets and goes over to plop into one of the chairs in the corner. He takes out his phone and scrolls absentmindedly.
âSure, make yourself at home. Dick.â
After a few minutes, the door creaks and a woman walks in.
Describe Athena.
Dialogue 2
âMorninâ, boss.â
âGood morning, Odysseus.â
ââBout time you showed u-â Freezes in place. âWhat did you just call him?â
âUncle P-! A-Aegos?! What are you doing here?â
âAnswer the question, niece.â
âYou canât just- I canât believe- When did you get into town?â
âYesterday. You gonna answer my question or not?â
âOdysseus,â Ody interjects. âMy name, which you could have just asked for yourself about ten minutes ago.â
âOdysseus of Ithaca, huh?â Poseidon spits. âDamn, which one of your parents came up with that cruel joke?â
âHmph. Original. Didnât realize your uncle was such a prick, boss.â
âOh you little shi-â
âEnough. Odysseus, we have a shipment of the new Jasmine Mas coming in later today, can you clear some room on the front display? Uncle. Letâs talk outside, shall we? Coffee?â
âFine. Youâre buying.â
Athena puts on a pained smile. âAlways a pleasure to see you, Uncle Aegos,â she says through gritted teeth.
The two of them leave and Ody glares daggers into Poseidonâs back the whole time. When the door closes, he walks around the front counter and begins to angrily rearrange the display, ruminating on the rude stranger and his frustratingly attractive face.
#real ones will notice that is not the first time Iâve used the name Aegos đ#odyseidon#epic the musical#epic the musical au#proverbs writing#proverb answers
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WAKE THE FUCK UP ITâS HERE!!!! THE LAYLOM REWRITE IS HEEEEERE!!!!
Shut the fuck up âitâs better than anything I could writeâ WRONG. INCORRECT. THIS STORY ALONE IS PROOF IT IS A MASTERPIECE OF TENSION AND ROMANCE AND IT ALL FEELS SO NATURAL AND BELIEVABLE
Seriously read this. Like sit the fuck down and experience this. Mona cooked and I refuse to ever stop hyping it up.
(rewritten) Lay All Your Love On Me



. Pairing: Rockstar! Poseidon x Gn! Reader
. Summary: Neither you nor Poseidon fully understand, or want to understand, your feelings for each other. Your playful flirting suddenly feels too real. You find yourself wanting to be the one next to the other instead of anyone else. Zeus thinks you two should just fuck⊠Maybe heâs right? Thereâs only one way to find out.
. Warnings: +16?, swearing, mature and suggestive content, making out, mentions of sex and drinking
. Notes: Giving this a second chance, this time bigger, longer and hornier! This shouldn't have taken as long as it did đ I don't think it's worth the wait but honestly as long as only one person enjoys it I'll be happy đ Poseidon divider made by @/vibeswithrenai and taken from this post Art made by Neal Illustrator and taken from this post. The idea for this au was also inspired by her art And an infinite amount of thanks to @theproverbialpen for beta reading this and helping me out so much! Also please go check her stuff out, it's seriously so much better than anything I could ever write (if you like this you'll LOVE "EPIC: The Siren Saga")
. Word count: 12562

series masterlist

"Don't go sharing your devotion Lay all your love on me" - Lay All Your Love On Me, ABBA
Lights exploded across the arenaâblinding, intoxicatingâa cascade of greens, yellows, and blues swallowing everything in their path. The air pulsed with an impossible energy, electric with the anticipation of thousands who had been waiting months for this moment. It was contagious, seeping into your skin, winding itself through your veins until it felt like you could breathe it in and be swallowed whole.
The bass rumbled beneath your feet, a living heartbeat in the floorboards. You felt it climb your legs, coil in your stomach, and settle deep in your chest, thrumming like a second pulse. Ecstatic. Overwhelming in the best way. Alive.
People had come from all over, some traveling for hours, even days, just to witness this momentâto see Natural Disaster live in the flesh. Thousands of bodies moved in unison, swaying, dancing, losing themselves to the music. Their cheers tangled together into an indecipherable roar, but the glow of their faces, the messages scrawled on signs, the way they pressed against each other with sheer unfiltered joy made what they wanted to convey more than clear. They were utterly entranced. The whole place buzzed with an almost tangible force, as if the concert itself was something alive.
You took advantage of the moment, the tidal wave of sound and movement, and raised your camera. The crowd behind you sang and screamed, their voices a perfect backdrop. A few people near the barrier noticed you, those lucky enough to be close to the stage, and eagerly struck posesâsome waving, some locking arms in excitementâbefore turning back to the show just as quickly. You chuckled.
It had become a habit, taking at least one picture of the crowd at every venue the band played. You were drawn to itâthe beauty of people losing themselves, completely immersed, living in a memory they would carry forever. Simple, maybe. But special. And, if nothing else, it kept the social media managers happy.
For the past ten months, you had been traveling with Natural Disaster as their photographer, and despite having witnessed dozens of shows, the magic never faded. The crowds, the staging, the music, the reaction to the musicâit never got old. It wasnât as if you were unfamiliar with the scene, big concerts, blinding lights, the deafening sound of the speakers, but there was something about these ones that felt different. Maybe it was the way you got to see everything, the before, the after, the world behind the curtain. A world you never knew existed.
You still couldnât believe you were there. Couldnât thank your friend enough for pushing you to take the jobâor hell, to even apply in the first place. You had been given the opportunity of a lifetime, one most fans could only dream of.
The song swelled into its chorus, and you found yourself mouthing the words instinctively. The melodies, the singerâs inflections, every pause, every noteâit was all etched into you, like something that had always been there. After listening to these songs so many times, for so long, they had become second nature. More than once, youâd caught yourself humming them absentmindedly, the tunes slipping from your lips before you even realized. Who knows how many times it had happened unnoticed?
Then suddenly, the crowd near you eruptedâcheers, screams, hands reaching past you, reaching for something.
You turned, reflexively raising your camera, part instinct, part curiosity.
And you found yourself almost face-to-face with him.
The lead vocalist.
He stood at the very edge of the stage, towering over you, eyes scanning the sea of bodies as he sang, every syllable sharp, deliberate. The LED screens behind him cast him in an ethereal blue glow, his long dark locks haloed in light. The tips of his hair, dyed royal blue, almost melted into the background, giving him an otherworldly aura. Small trinkets woven into his strands caught the light, shimmering like stars trapped in his hair.
His outfit, minimal, effortlessâdespite the fact that you knew every piece had been chosen carefullyâsomehow only amplified his presence. A tank top clung to him just right, highlighting the muscle of his arms. One was wrapped in a fishnet sleeve, his fingers hugged by metallic rings that gleamed under the lights. His right arm, a sleek blue metal prosthetic, caught every flicker of color, reflecting the energy of the crowd itself. He looked like something untouchable. Something unreal.
And thenâhis eyes found yours.
Locked. Held.
For a second, the world shrank. The lights dimmed. The crowd melted away.
Your lips parted, lyrics forgotten, the song lost at the tip of your tongue.
His eyes were beautiful.
You were frozen. Stuck. Trapped under his gaze, under his call, under his siren song.
And the bastard knew it.
As the instrumental break started, his lips curled into a smirk. Slow. Sharp.
Without warning, he crouched, closing the distance in an instant. If it werenât for the stage being slightly taller than you, you wouldâve been eye-to-eye.
He took his right in-ear out, letting it dangle from its wire over his shoulder. Resting his left arm on his thigh, he pulled his microphone away from his lips bringing it down to hang loosely between his legsâcasual, lazy, intentional. His cheek pressed against his closed right fist, elbow resting on his knee, his gaze unwavering, almost mocking.
Over the screaming crowd and pounding bass, you barely caught his voice.
"Enjoying the show?"
It snapped you from your trance, though not quickly enough to stop the heat from creeping up your neck.
âI liked it better when you were over there.â You nodded toward the opposite end of the stage.
Poseidon raised a brow. âYou did, didnât you?â
The comment sent another rush of heat to your face, and you hated that he knew it.
You didnât have a response. Just looked at him.
His smirk widened. Dangerous. Knowing. It reminded you of a sharkâsomething predatory, something too aware of its power.
âTake a picture.â He motioned lazily to your camera. âItâll last longer.â
"Stop it."
He only shrugged, as if to say, âyour lossâ. Then, just as effortlessly, he slipped his in-ear back on, lifted the mic to his lips, and stoodâhis presence filling the stage once more.
Still, it didnât stop you from raising your camera, snapping a few quick shots, wishing he had stayed just a few moments longer.
Lowering the camera slightly, you peeked over itâ
And there he was.
Still smirking.
Still looking directly at you.
And worst of all, you knewâwithout a single doubtâthat smirk was meant only for you.
Your breath left you in a quiet exhale. You glanced down at your screen to review the shot.
Perfect.
The crowd erupted again, their voices blending into a thunderous chantâone name, over and over, rising like a prayer to the heavens.
"POSEIDON! POSEIDON! POSEIDON!"
The stage lights flickered in response, casting the entire scene in a fleeting, shimmering blueâlike moonlight on crashing waves.
And for a brief moment, you wondered if this man was just a man or something far more.
And PoseidonâPoseidon tried his best to keep his eyes off you. But his attempts were futile.
ââââââđžââââââ
"I think tonight went great."
The four of you made your way out of the arena through a dimly lit back alley, slipping through the heavy metal door that slammed shut behind you with a dull thud. It wasnât the most glamorous exit, but you had to stay humble somehow, right? In all seriousness, it was one of the safest ways to leave venues like thisâwithout the risk of being swallowed by a screaming crowd.
Still, you had a feeling you could have walked right through the front doors if you wanted to. Considering how late it was and how long ago the concert had ended, most fans had already cleared out. It was Zeusâ fault, really. If anyone ever arrived late or left late, he was somehow always to blame. In this case, though, you silently thanked him for it.
"Yeah, we got to end it with a bang!"
Youâd been told youâd need to wait a few hours before getting back on the tour busâthe crew still had things to pack and prep before hitting the road again. You werenât too thrilled about the downtime, but it wasnât like you had a choice.
"What did you think, [Name]?"
Three heads turned toward you in perfect synchronization, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. They always asked, and you always gave the same answer, that didnât stop them from cheering every single time. So this time, you decided to switch it up.
"Eh, it was fine."
You waved a dismissive hand, fighting to keep a straight face as the three of them froze in place.
"...Fine. Fine?"
Zeus, the bleached blonde, looked as if you had just personally insulted him and his entire bloodline. His mouth hung open slightly, his brows furrowing before he lurched forward and clamped a hand against your forehead, playfully checking if you had a fever.
"Are you okay?" He demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
You laughed, batting his hand away. "Yes."
"You never say itâs fine. Youâre always all likeâ" Zeus suddenly slung an arm over your shoulders, lifting his hand like a talking puppet, bringing his voice higher in what you assumed was a terrible impression of you. ââOh, well, I think it was splendid! Absolutely brilliant! Oh, Poseidon was my favourite part! He was truly divine! Oh please kiss meeee!ââ
He brought up his other hand and dropped his voice into a deeper, raspier tone. ââOf course I will, how could I ever resist you? Iâve been waiting for you to ask me for months because Iâm too much of a wimp and canât do it myself!ââ
He then mashed both of his hands together, putting you in some kind of headlock and making obscenely loud kissing noises as if his hands were making out. You paid no attention to the last partâor at least you tried. Still, a slight heat crept up your neck and bloomed across your ears.
Sure, you and Poseidon exchanged flirtatious comments from time to time, but it wasnât real⊠was it? At least, not from his side. You, on the other hand, had thought about it a little too muchâmore than youâd like to admit.
You were certain the impression of his brother was made just to upset and annoy him, that it didnât hold any truth, just like Zeus had done many times before. You probably shouldnât overthink it, you told yourself. Which, of course, meant you would.
Maybe he was just messing with you the same way he messed with his brothers. After all, over the past year or so, you'd grown close to themânot just as colleagues, but as friends. Real friends. The kind that could spend hours together on the road without wanting to kill each other (well, most of the time). You had late night conversations about nothing and everything, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else, and a ridiculous amount of shared memories in different cities across the country. They had become your people. And, judging by the way they always included you in everything, you knew they felt the same.
So yeah, he was probably just messing with you.
âLeave it.â Poseidonâs unmistakable voice broke Zeus from his lewd puppet show. His tone was sternâwarning him to piss off. He effortlessly replaced Zeus, shoving the blondeâs arm off your shoulders and draping his own there instead, almost protectively.
Zeus scoffed, rolling his eyes as he gestured toward you and Poseidon, looking to Hades for support. But the eldest merely shrugged.
You stiffened slightly at the unexpected touch, but when Poseidon looked at you, the tension faded. His scentâsomething faintly salty, like the seaâwashed over you, strangely familiar and oddly comforting. It was strange, really. You hadnât ever seen him anywhere near a large body of water, except for the few times the band stopped in coastal cities for a break. And yet, he always smelled like the ocean.
"Well," Poseidon drawled, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. "I think itâs a good thing. Helps us improve, doesnât it, sweetheart?"
His gaze lingered just a second too long. Neither of you looked away.
It gave you a chance to look at his eyesâreally look at themâdeep blue as the depths of the ocean, beautiful but deadly if you stayed in them too long. You could get lost. You could drown. Still, despite the warnings, you always stared and kept staring, analyzing every detail you could. The way they sparkled under the fluorescent lights, the way they seemed to dilate when looking into yours. The way he raised a brow when the silence stretched a beat too longâa mixture of amusement and the tiniest bit of infatuation. The small amount he allowed himself to show, even if it wasnât fully conscious.
For a second, you wondered if he was analyzing yours too. A small part of you hoped so. A bigger part of you buried that hope deep down, almost embarrassed for even thinking such a silly thing.
For a fleeting moment, as it seemed to become more common since you met him, the rest of the world faded.
Thenâ
"I heard of this one bar from a friend." Hades interrupted, breaking the spell as he glanced up from his phone. "We could go there while we wait. He said it isnât usually busy."
Poseidon turned to him, giving his brother a thumbs up. "Sounds good."
Just as you began heading in the direction of the bar, a small group of lingering fans spotted the band and rushed over. Nothing too overwhelming, just three of them that seemed eager to interact with their favourite artists.
After asking for autographs, they requested a few photos. The band agreed without hesitation. You offered to take the pictures, already used to the roleâit didnât bother you. You took pictures for a living.
Poseidon let go of your shoulders. You hadnât realized heâd kept his arm there the entire time, like it belonged, like it was molded to fit you perfectly. But you did notice when he let go. The warmth and weight youâd grown so familiar with was gone. You shouldnât have missed it as much as you did.
Still, you smiled and held your hands out for their phones.
As you were snapping the last picture, a girl stepped forward and turned to Poseidon, asking if she could get a photo with just him. He agreed, giving her a charming smile. They posed, his hand settling on her hip as she leaned in a little too close. Not inappropriate, but... familiar. Too familiar. He didnât seem to mind. In fact, he said something you didnât catchâjudging by her blush, it wasnât exactly innocent.
And something inside you shifted. Not anger. No. It was a feeling youâd become too familiar with over the years. The only thing you didnât understand was why you felt itâat least, you didnât want to admit it.
You saw no reason to feel so strongly about it. Poseidon had had plenty of interactions like this before. Hell, he probably had deeper, more meaningfulâeven more sexualâencounters. You were sure of that. Some even happened while youâd known him.
Heâd had them before you knew him. Heâd had them while you knew him. And heâll have them after the tour ended and you went back to your boring life.
So why? Why were you jealous?
Maybe it was just the feeling that you wanted to be that girl at that moment. The one who got to press close, laugh too loudly at a joke that wasnât even funny, feel the weight of his hand resting easy on your hip like it belonged there. Maybe you wanted to lean in and feel him lean back, catch a whispered compliment that was meant for your ears only, something low and teasing and just a little bit dirty that would have you blushing all the way back.
Maybe you just wanted to be the one who made his eyes crinkle at the corners, who made his voice drop that octave lowerâsmooth, deliberate, like velvet dragging over bare skin. Maybe you wanted to feel the shift in him when the teasing stopped being just for show. Maybe you wanted him to lean in and murmur something youâd replay in your head for days, words you wouldnât dare repeat out loud.
Maybe you wanted his fingers to tighten just a little around your waist, not enough to draw attentionâbut enough to feel. Enough to know. Maybe you wanted him to dip his head close to yours, so close his breath hit your neck and made you shiver, pretending it was the breeze. Maybe you wanted to press against him, just barely, and feel his body react, feel the tension settle low in his stomach, feel the way he tried not to show it.
Maybe you wanted to push him just far enough to make him crack, to make him slip up and say something that he couldnât take back.
Maybe you wanted to see what would happen if there were no fans, no brothers, no distractionsâjust the two of you, and that look in his eyes. Maybe you wanted to see what his hands would do if he didnât have to hold back.
Maybe you wanted him to forget about every other person, even just for one night. To turn to you with that easy grin and that fire behind his eyes and say your name like it meant something more than a casual joke.
And god, maybe you wanted to know what itâd feel like to have him back you into a wall in some forgotten corner of the venue, breathless and flushed, his lips hovering just over yours like a promise waiting to be broken. Maybe you wanted to hear him groan your name like it was the only damn word he remembered, feel the heat of his palms under your shirt, his mouth on your neck, on yourâ
Your âmomentâ got interrupted by the fan asking for her phone back. You hadnât realized youâd already taken the photos. You were so used to it, it probably happened on autopilot. Being snapped back to reality made you actually process what you'd been thinking about.
What the hell was wrong with you?! Why were you even thinking that? That was creepy as fuck.
Sure, you worked with him. And yeah, once in a while, youâd flirt, tease each other, let your touches linger just a little too long, get lost in the way his eyes caught the light andâ STOP.
That wasnât the point. The point was: he was a rockstar. He was popular. He was hot. Of course, he got around. You knew that. He knew that. So why the hell were you thinking so much about it?
You needed to drop it. Yeah, drop it. Stuff every last thought into a drawer at the back of your mind, lock it tight, and hurl the key into the ocean, so deep that some clueless fish would mistake it for food, swallow it whole, and let it sink into oblivion. Poof. Gone forever.
You were good now, you told yourself.
You were, in fact, not good.
Poseidon caught your eye as you handed the last phone back, something flickering in his expression. Maybe amusement. Maybe something else.
You watched the group of fans disappear into the night, their excited chatter fading into the hum of the city. Zeus and Hades had gone back to squinting at a map on Hadesâ phone, quietly bickering over which turn to take next.
"Jealous?"
His voice was sudden, low, and far too close, making your heart jump just slightly. You raised a brow, trying and failing to give him the impression that you had no idea what he was talking about.
âYour face gives it away. The way your nose scrunches up.â You subconsciously reached a hand to the bridge of your nose.
He let out a breathy laugh. âYou donât have to lie.â His smirk alone shouldâve been a dead giveaway. The bastard did it on purpose, just to get a reaction out of you.
It had become your game. One you two had developed over the months of knowing each other: make the other as flustered as possible.
It started as just a couple of jokes, then slowly evolved into what you had now. You got touchier. The flirting started to feel a little too real. Like a desperate call to take the next stepâbut neither of you would admit it. You both had your reasons. You werenât sure about his, but you were damn sure about yours, even if you didnât like thinking about them.
Ever since you met him, youâd felt this pull. Sure, youâd had relationships before. Youâd felt attraction before. But this⊠this was different.
Still, none of that had stopped you from playing the game. Maybe because deep down, you hoped one day itâd be realâthat he was drowning in the same feelings and sending out an SOS call like you were.
But thatâs what it was: a game. And damn it, you werenât going to lose.
Before he could get another word in, you movedâgrabbed him by the waistband of his pants and gave a firm tug, pulling him closer.
The unexpected action made him stumble slightly. You managed to catch the way his face shifted in surprise, how his ears turned red, the way his chest stopped moving as he held his breath, and how he stiffened, completely taken off guard. It wasnât the first time youâd done something like thatâand most of the time, he wouldnât have that strong of a reactionâbut it felt great every time you managed to get one out of him.
Now you were face to face. You could both feel each otherâs breath.
âI know what youâre doing.â Now you were the one smirking, and he was the one frozen in place. And damn, it felt good. âIt may have worked this time. But two can play that game.â
Despite himself, Poseidon snapped back into character. âYeah? What are you gonna do?â
âYouâll see.â
âThatâs a big promise coming from you.â
You gave him another tug, pulling him impossibly close, your middles pressed flush, pelvis to pelvis. Every inch of space left vanished, bodies molded together, breath caught somewhere between tension and something heavier.
âAre you two coming or what?â Zeus, already nearly a block away, called back.
Hades, not far behind, gave you an apologetic look.
âWeâre going.â You responded for both of you.
You started dragging him by the waistband after them. He didnât say a word. He didnât protest. He just smiled and let you. Let you drag him along like he was caught on the metaphorical, almost literal leash you had him on.
ââââââđžââââââ
By the time you finally made it to the bar, the four of you had settled into a secluded booth toward the back. It was a snug fit but comfortable, the kind of space that made it easy to sink into conversation without interruption. The atmosphere was calmâalmost homelyâan intimate contrast to the chaotic, electric energy of the arena.
The warm glow of dim lights reflected off polished wooden surfaces, casting soft shadows across the walls. A low hum of voices drifted around the room, but no one was loud or disruptiveâjust small groups of friends talking in hushed tones, likely regulars who had carved out this space as their own. The only other sound was the faint murmur of a football game playing on a small TV mounted in one corner, though judging by the lack of interest from anyone in the bar, it was probably a rerun.
You sat with your arms stretched out toward the center of the table, your camera resting in your hands, its screen casting a pale glow on your faces as you scrolled through the nightâs captures. The three of them leaned in, watching as you flicked through the images.
Comments were thrown aroundâsome admiring the shots, others laughing at the more unflattering ones. Zeus, of course, was the loudest, making sure to poke fun at Hadesâ stone-faced expressions and his own occasionally ridiculous poses. But as the slideshow continued, one comment, in particular, caught you off guard.
âWhy are most of these Poseidon?â
Your fingers froze, embarrassed that your unconscious habit came to light for all to hear.
Zeus had a raised brow and an infuriatingly smug smirk, leaning forward with one arm propped on the table, hand supporting his chin. Before you could even process how to respond, his expression flickeredâjust for a secondâas if he had been struck with sudden pain. Someone had clearly kicked him under the table.
You werenât sure who.
âI just want to know!â Zeus protested, rubbing his leg and throwing an accusing glance around the table.
Your face heated up, mind scrambling for an excuse.
âHeâs the main vocalist.â You said matter of factly, shifting in your seat. âIf you have a problem, take it up with the people. Itâs what they want to see.â
Zeusâ smirk only widened.
âAre you the people?â Before you could formulate a response, another thud sounded beneath the tableâthis one louder, sharper. Zeus flinched again, hissing in pain as he immediately bent down to rub his leg. âStop that!â
Your attempts to fight back a grinâand the giggles threatening to bubble out of youâwere futile. There was just something about seeing Zeus being put in his place that never got old. Not in a mean way. It was just... satisfying.
Too caught up in his misery, you hadnât noticed Poseidonâs gaze settling on you. His expression shifted from one of irritation toward his brother to something softer, gentler, the corners of his mouth twitching at the sound of your laugh.
You did, however, catch the subtle look the eldest of the three sent himâa quiet warning. Poseidon rolled his eyes in response, leaned back against the booth seat, and rested his arm casually along the backrest behind you.
That alone made you realize that yeah. You had a pretty good idea who was responsible for those kicks.
Leaving your camera on the center of the table, you leaned back as well, your shoulders brushing lightly against his arm in a silent thank you.
He turned his head to look at you again. His eyes found yoursâand this time, he didnât look away. His smile was faint but real, something warm blooming beneath the cool exterior he usually wore like armor. You returned it, mirroring the expression like it was instinct.
âYou too. Stop it.â Hades said to Zeus, his voice sharp and unamused.
âHe started it.â Zeusâ defense sounded more like a pouty three year old than a grown man.
âNo I didnât.â You heard the indignation in Poseidonâs voice beside you, quiet but firm.
As the youngest prepared to retort, you downed the last of your drink, seizing the perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to shake off the lingering embarrassment sitting heavy in your chest. It wasnât anything serious, nothing you couldnât handle, but still, your skin felt a little too warm, your pulse just a little too quick.
âGonna go get some more. Anyone want anything?â
A chorus of noâs and Iâm fineâs met your ears, so you simply nodded and made your way to the counter.
As you waited to be served, another patron leaned casually against the bar beside you. He looked about your age, dressed in faded jeans and a hoodie, clearly just waiting on his drink too. It wasnât long before you exchanged a few words, just friendly conversation, nothing out of the ordinary.
Poseidon turned toward his brother, voice lowered to an accusing whisper-yell. âWhy did you do that?â His eyes darted toward you, just for a millisecond, checking to see if you were listening before snapping back to Zeus.
âWhat? I was just curious.â
He scoffed. âCurious? Like you wouldnât jump at the chance to make someone uncomfortable.â
âIâm doing you a favor! Anyone with eyes could see how smitten you are. And you repay me with pain?â
The comment earned a dry laugh from Poseidon. âIâm not smitten.â
âPlease. Itâs been going on for months. Itâs unbearable. The amount of sexual tension isââ
Poseidon rolled his eyes, tuning him out. He would be lying if he said heâd never noticed how good you looked, or how often his thoughts wandered to you when they shouldnât. But the more Zeus talked, the more he wanted to scrub the entire idea from his mind.
While Zeus continued rambling on and on about âjust manning up and doing something alreadyâ, Poseidon's eyes wanderedâseeking something, anything, more interesting than his brotherâs voice. Naturally, they found you.
It was always you.
It took him a second to notice the guy beside you. Another second to see your hand on the man's arm, your body angled slightly toward him. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe not. But the moment your eyes flicked back toward Poseidon, a smug little grin tugging at your lipsâhe knew. You were doing it on purpose.
Your words from earlier echoed back: two can play the game.
And by the looks of it, you were keeping your word.
He had to respect you for that.
âThat smug littleâŠâ The words slipped under his breath, unfinished but heavy with meaning.
Still, his jaw clenched. His grip on the backrest tightened. His stare sharpened, locking onto the guy like he could scare him away with a look. It was almost laughable how intense his stare wasâif looks could kill, that man wouldâve dropped right then and there.
ââit could be resolved with a nice reservation at a hotel andââ Zeus finally noticed his words were falling on deaf ears. âYâknow, you keep glaring like that, and he might actually drop dead.â
Poseidon exhaled through his nose, tearing his gaze away and taking a slow sip of his drink, trying to appear indifferent. It wasnât working. âIâm not glaring.â
âOh, shut up.â
Not wanting to endure more of their bickering, Hades stepped in. âTheyâre into you. They might even love you. Where do you think all your chemistry comes from? They look at you with those eyes, the ones you once had. Weâre not blind.â
Poseidon laughed, incredulous. âLove? I think you skipped a few steps. Itâs just playful flirting.â Zeus opened his mouth, but Poseidon cut him off. âDonât act like you donât do it all the time. I donât see you claiming you love every person you flirt with.â
âAt least Iâm not as bad as you.â
âThatâs not what the media says.â
Letâs be honestâPoseidon wasnât much better than Zeus when it came to nightly lovers. But by god, he clung to that small difference of public opinion like a lifeline.
âSince when do I care about what the media says? Donât bring me into your sad little worry bubble.â
That was the problem. He did care. He hated how much he cared. Sometimes he envied Zeusâ ease, or even Hadesâ ability to vanish from public attention. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was a fragile ego he didnât want to admit he had. Or maybeâjust maybeâhe cared too much about how people saw him. What they thought of him.
He hated Zeus most days, but he had to admitâsometimes, he was grateful for the way his brother drew the spotlight away from him.
When it came to relationships, however, Poseidon prided himself on not caring. At least, he thought he didnât. That they were casual, disposable. He could forget names the morning after and never wonder what they were doing now. He told himself it didnât matter what his one night flings did before or after. Who they talked to. Who they touched.
But you... you mightâve ruined that for him.
In truth, there were very few people who had ever truly broken through the walls heâd builtâand fewer still who had stayed long enough to know him. Those connections had always ended in ruins, leaving him even more guarded than before.
Heâd always struggled with emotional intimacy. The very thought of someone seeing his deepest flaws and secrets laid bare made his skin crawl. He hated the idea of anyone looking past the persona he had so carefully built over the years. Vulnerability felt like weakness. So he kept people at armâs length. Maybe thatâs why everything always ended the same way: with disappointment, or worseâsomeone walking away with pieces of him he couldnât get back.
âAnd those stupid braids! You let them braid your hair like some kindergartener every night!â Zeus threw his hands in the air, exasperated.
Poseidon instinctively glanced down at the braids you had done for him earlier that night. They werenât anything elaborateâjust a few loose ones scattered through his hair, with two framing his face. Youâd woven small trinkets into them, mostly ocean themed charmsâtiny seashells, beads shaped like starfish, a silver wave. He had reminded you of his domain, and you had made it very clear in your choices. And he wore them with pride, he wasnât about to let his brother diminish them like they were something disposable, something without any meaning.
He absentmindedly reached up, running his fingers over one of the charms before looking back at his younger brother, expression almost offended. âTheyâre not stupid. I like them.â
Zeus snorted. âYou look like a hippie.â
Poseidon arched a brow. âLook at yourself in a mirror before you speak.â
Before Zeus could fire back, Hades sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. âAlright, enough.â He muttered, effectively cutting through their bickering. His gaze shifted to Poseidon. âThey wonât be around forever for you to tell them how you feel and you know that.â
Poseidonâs brows furrowed.
How he felt? What did that mean? Well, he knew what Hades meant. He just didnât like thinking about it.
He knew the burning sensation in his chest every time he looked at you. Heâd always brushed it off as attractionâjust lust, nothing he hadnât felt before. But now⊠the weight of his brotherâs words settled in his mind like an anchor.
This wasnât the first time theyâd teased him about it. But this time, it felt more like a wake up call.
He didnât like that.
âNo, no, no, do you know what he needs to do?â Zeus cut in, turning to Poseidon with a glint in his eyes. âNext stopâthereâs this place overâhold on, Iâll just send it to you.â He didnât even finish his sentence before pulling out his phone and typing. âYou just gotta get out there, turn on the good olâ Olympian family charm, tell them you have chemistry and let the setting take care of the rest.â
Poseidon rolled his eyes, but the lightest hint of pink dusted his cheeks. He brought his drink back to his lips.
Zeus, of course, had to make it worse.
âOr, in better wordsâjust fuck already.â
Poseidon nearly choked on his drink.
He coughed, sputtering as he caught his breath. âYouâre disgusting.â His voice came out more flustered than threatening, especially with the way he quickly glanced around to see if you had heard. Though... he didnât exactly hate the idea. Maybe heâd thought about it once. Or twice. Or more. Not that heâd ever admit itâespecially not to Zeus.
His blush deepened as Zeus leaned in, brow raised, smug smirk on his lips.
âIâm just sayingââ He continued, clearly enjoying this way too much. âYou need to quit acting like a prude and do something for your little guy. Heâll thank you.â
The sound that followed was so loud and pained, half the bar turned to stare. Hades had to apologize to the nearest table.
Between the curses Zeus let out and the ones Poseidon hurled back, the youngest still managed to spot the woman who had just walked into the bar.
He stopped mid rant.
Tapping the table once before standing up, he grinned. âWatch and learn, brother. Dear olâ Zeus will teach you how to prevail. Look closely.â
And just like that, he was gone, striding toward the girl with all the confidence of a man who had never once been rejected, not that it was true.
Poseidon exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, his jaw tense.
Across from him, Hades silently turned the camera toward him, he pushed it toward him slowly, deliberately. His expression remained unreadableâsharp but oddly gentle.
The camera was heavier than it looked. He could almost still feel the residual heat of your hands radiating off of it, despite them no longer being there, like a ghost, an illusion, a trick his mind was playing on him, the strap slightly tangled from how you'd slung it over your shoulder earlier. And when Poseidon finally looked at the displayâat the photo you had taken of him at the start of the nightâhis breath hitched.
You hadnât posed him. Hadnât warned him. He had barely realized you were aiming your lens his wayâhe blamed the stupid lights in his eyes, making him basically blind. He had just been standing thereâeyes on you, shoulders relaxed, distracted for just a second, bathed in the glow of the lights pulsing from the stage behind him. Neon spilled over his silhouette, casting his form in a surreal aura, like he wasnât entirely made of flesh and blood. A halo of color framed his hair, kissed the curve of his jaw, and wrapped around the gleam of his prosthetic.
And somehow, youâd caught it. That fleeting momentâunguarded, unperformed. The smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, subtle enough to miss if you blinked. His eyes, that so often looked like cold steel and stormclouds, looked... still. Gentle. Pleased.
When he saw the photo, it unnerved himâdeeply. It stilled something inside him, cracked open the quiet ache heâd long kept buried beneath ego and bravado.
Thatâs how you saw him? Not the frontman, not the untouchable performer colder than ice itselfâbut that version? The one he hardly recognized in himself?
And yet... there he was. A moment immortalized. A man seenânot as a myth or a spectacleâbut as something real.
âYou know heâs right.â
Hadesâ voice cut through the stillness. Poseidon looked up, startled by the sudden return to reality.
âHe is?â The incredulous bite in Poseidon's tone bordered on defensive.
âYou know what I mean.â
Poseidon exhaled again, more ragged this time. He looked away. âNo, I donât. You keep saying âfeelings,â âfeelââyou know I donâtââ
Sensing the edge in his voice, Hades tried to bring him back down. âTell me how you feel during those moments you have with them.â
That word again. Feel. As if Poseidon could just crack open his chest and read out what was inside.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, shoulders taut. âThat again.â
He almost stood up and left, on instinctâfight or flight. But Hades reached out, his hand closing over Poseidonâs. Grounding him. That simple contact was enough to keep him rooted in place.
âTell me.â
Poseidon didnât understand why his brother kept pushing. Why he needed him to look at it, name it. Why he had to poke at all the things Poseidon had been doing his best to ignore for months.
But if he really had to think about itâif he really had to say it out loudâheâd start with this:
He loved your smile. Especially when he said something stupid, something that wasnât even funny, and you still laughed like it meant something.Â
He loved how he could flirt, test the waters, and youâd play along, giving him just enough to keep him addicted. He loved the way you got flustered when he leaned too close, the way he got flustered when you caught him off guard with a comment or a look that felt far too intimate for the setting.
He loved your eyesânot just their color or shape, but the way they lingered. How they looked at him like you were trying to figure him out. Like you actually wanted to. It scared the shit out of him.
And your lipsâgod, heâd never admit it, but heâd memorized their shape. The curve when you smiled, the way they twitched when you were holding back a laugh. How sometimes, when you were deep in thought, youâd bite your lower lip and heâd lose every coherent thought.
He loved the way you listenedâreally listenedâwhen he spoke, even when he was rambling. He loved the warmth in your voice when you greeted him, the quiet way you made space for him without asking questions. He loved how you saw him. Not the god, not the storm, not a performer. Just⊠him.
He lovedâno.
No, he didnât love.
He didnât love any of that.
Poseidon didnât love.
He wasnât capable of love. Heâd never be loved, not really. Yes, he was attracted to you. But love was something else. Something dangerous. Off the table.
Still, there was a part of himâburied deep beneath the bravado, beneath the wavesâthat wanted to say it. That wanted to hand you all the delicate, breakable pieces of himself and pray youâd be gentle.
But he didnât. He wouldnât.
So he didn't say any of it.
âI said it before. Itâs just flirting. Pure tension built over months. Nothing more.â
Hades sighedânot disappointed, but with the kind of quiet concern only someone whoâs lived through heartbreak can carry. There was a flicker of fear behind his eyes tooâthat Poseidonâs refusal to name what he felt would end up hurting him more than protecting him.
âMaybe Zeus is right.â Hades said with a pointed look toward their brother, who was now mid routine with the same poor girl as earlier. âMaybe you do need to âfuck it out.â Go ahead. Try it. But when itâs done, and that thing in your chest is still there? Youâll try to bury it. And itâll come back a thousand times worse. And youâll feel like shit.â
Poseidon didnât want to think about that. Didnât want to picture what it would mean if his brother was right.
So he didnât.
He slipped the mask back on with practiced ease. âTalking from experience?â
As if on cue, Hadesâ phone buzzed against the wooden table, cutting through the conversation. The screen lit up, and Poseidon caught a glimpse of the contact photoâhis sister in lawâs familiar face.
Persephone.
It was almost a ritual at this point. Every night after a show, without fail, she called to check in. Maybe to ask how things had gone, maybe just to hear Hadesâ voice. Either way, Poseidon had lost count of how many times this exact moment had played out.
Hades barely glanced at the screen before reaching for the phone, a rare, almost imperceptible softness passing over his usually sharp features.
âThink it through.â He murmured before standing up and making his way toward the exit. The door swung shut behind him, the cold night air swallowing his voice as he answered the call.
Poseidon glanced around the nearly empty table, a quiet exhale slipping past his lips. It was as if the universe was mocking himâone by one, everyone had slipped away, leaving him the last one standing. Hades had stepped outside, deep in conversation with Persephone. Zeus had all but disappeared, wrapped up in a flirtatious exchange with the woman who had just walked in. And then there was you.
He recalled the first time you two metâback when you were just the photographer, just another face amidst the crew. He was polite, maybe even a little distant, the way he usually was with new people. Keep it casual, keep it safe. That was the rule. That was the plan. He certainly hadnât planned to notice you, hadnât planned to see you. Not like that.
But then you looked at him. Smiled at him. Said his name in that light, curious tone that didnât sound like you already had him figured out. And something in his chest shifted. It was subtle at firstâhow he started hovering nearby more than necessary, how he noticed the color of your eyes, how your laughter cut through the noise of the room even when he wasnât listening for it.
The first few weeks on the road were filled with long days, quiet nights, and the kind of interactions that shouldâve stayed professional. But something about you refused to be ordinary. And somewhere between stolen glances and shared jokes, he fell. Hard.Â
And he wasnât supposed to fallânot like that. Attraction? Sure. Lust? Of course! But this? This ache in his chest when you werenât around? This low, burning hum that lived under his skin whenever you were? That wasnât supposed to happen. Not to someone like him.
He kept telling himself it would pass. That it was just infatuation, just tension, just a trick of proximity and convenience. But the longer he knew you, the more the excuses thinned out. You werenât just a passing interest, werenât just something pretty to look at during the tour. You were real, and kind, and smart, and stubborn in all the ways that made him want to bite back a grin. You challenged him. Calmed him. Disarmed him without even trying.
And maybe that was what scared him the most.
He thought about what Hades said. About how he felt. About how you might feel. Did your chest tighten the way his did when you saw him flirt with someone else? Did you feel that same magnetic pull every time you were close? Did you want something more?
And what even was more? Was it just lust tangled with infatuation? Or something deeper? Something scarier?
He didnât know. He didnât know how to feel.
Zeus had made it sound easy. Months of flirting, looks, touches, that constant electricity. Couldnât you two just⊠do something about it? Take the edge off? Release the tension that had been building over months?
Poseidon thought about what that might look likeâwhat it might feel like. The warmth of your skin, the way your breath might hitch, how youâd look when you let go.
He thought about the dreams. The ones he never spoke about. The ones where you reached for him first. Where you said the things he was too proud, too guarded to say himself. Where you wanted himânot just in passing, not just as a gameâbut really wanted him. All of him.
And god, he liked the idea that you might think of him that way too. Maybe more than he should.
He should probably talk to you about it. Just lay it out, ask what it was. What you wanted. But what if that ruined everything? Would it be better to let things unfold naturally, the way they had been? Quiet, unspoken, simmering just below the surface?
But if nothing had happened yet, after all those months, all those stolen looks, all that heat, then when?
How much longer was he supposed to wait? How many more nights could he take this gnawing thing inside his chestâthis ache that wouldnât leave him alone? He couldnât take it anymore.Â
He needed to do something.
Then he saw you. Standing at the bar, laughing with the man from earlier. You leaned in slightly, one hand resting lightly on the counter near his, your smile wide and easy. You touched his arm when you laughedânot inappropriately, but it still made something coil, tight and bitter, in Poseidon's stomach.
Before he could stop himself, his hand reached for your camera. He pulled it closer, like it was second nature to protect something of yours. Then, without a second thought, he stood and walked toward youâno hesitation.
You and the man were mid conversation. He was nice, friendly, maybe even a little charming. He looked surprised when Poseidon arrived, especially when he slid an arm around your waist like heâd done it a hundred times.
âWhat are you having?â His voice was low, closeâcloser than you expected.
You jumped a little, startled by the cool pressure of his fingers settling on your hip. It wasnât just a fleeting touch, either. His thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your clothes, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine. Your mind short circuited for a moment.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus. âOh! Don, this is uhhâŠâ You scrambled to remember the young manâs name.
âNoah.â He reminded you with a sheepish smile. He didnât seem offended by you not remembering, or Poseidonâs interruptionâmore confused than anything, his gaze flicking between you and the man who had appeared at your side like a shadow. His hand, which had been resting lightly near yours, subtly dropped to his side. He clearly hadnât expected Poseidon to show up, much less to touch you so casually.Â
âItâs his birthday. Heâs here with his friends.â
Poseidon barely acknowledged him. He spared Noah a glanceâone of those indifferent, faintly bored looks. Then, as if remembering basic politeness, he offered a dismissive âHappy birthdayâ.
Then he turned back to you, eyes expectant, clearly waiting for an answer to the question heâd asked before.
Noah blinked. Coughed lightly into his fist. âUmm, IâIâll just go. My friendsââ
âOh, yeah, itâs okay!â You offered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt.
âCool.â
âHave a good night.â
âUh, thanks.â
You both stood there in the cringeworthy silence that followed, the tail end of the conversation awkward enough to make your skin crawl. The second Noah disappeared into the crowd, you turned to Poseidon, incredulous.
âWhat was that about?â
He tilted his head. âWhat do you mean?â
âHe was nice! You didnât have to intimidate him like that.â
âI didnât do anything.â He said innocently, though his voice held that faint edgeâlike someone trying very hard to sound disinterested when they absolutely were not.
âYou scared him.â
âIf heâs scared of me just standing there, heâs pathetic.â
You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. âDidnât take you for the possessive type.â
That caught him off guard. He blinked. âIâm sorry?â
âYou were starting to get a bit toxic there." You teased, stepping just slightly out of reach, letting your smile do most of the work. A part of him almost made him reach back for you, just to feel the heat your body radiated once more.
His expression twisted, half offended, half bewildered. âIt wasnât about him. Itâs you.â
He punctuated the statement by gently booping your nose with a finger, smug and accusatory. You immediately caught his hand and pulled it down, still holding it.
âSo I did it.â You said, triumphant. âI made you jealous.â
He rolled his eyes, but didnât try to pull away.
âNo, no, you have to say it. With words.â
He sighed dramatically. âYeah, yeah, you made me jealous. You can be proud of yourself as much as you want.â
Your heart nearly left orbit, but you somehow managed to regulate your breathing before it gave you away. He admitted it.
Still holding his hand, you guided it back to your hip where it had rested before. A small, slightly anxious part of you braced for him to pull away.
He didnât.
His fingers stayed where you placed themâwarmer now, more certain. As if silently saying, Iâm still here.
And yet, even as his hand stayed, Poseidon was somewhere else for a beat. Mentally turning over what had just happened. He had been jealous. And worse, he didnât even try to deny it. That scared him more than he wanted to admit. So, of course, he changed the subject.
âYou didnât answer my question.â
You giggled, the sound light and teasing as you lifted your drink. âJust some water.â
Poseidon raised a brow. âNothing else?â
âYeah, not in the mood to let you guys drink me under the table again.â You finally turned to meet his gaze, expression playfully accusing. âIâve learned my lesson.â
âIt was one time.â
âIt was embarrassing.â
âIt was adorable.â
You downed what was left of your drink, not trusting your expression to stay neutral much longer. The cold hit your chest and helped calm the storm just enough. But then you looked back toward the boothâand noticed how empty it looked.
âWhere are the rest? Are we leaving?â
Poseidon followed your gaze, then glanced at the clock on the TV screen. âWe probably should.â He pulled out his wallet, dropped a few bills on the bar, and nodded to the bartender.
Without needing to say much else, he gently guided you toward the entrance, his hand still steady on your hip.
As you passed Zeus, still deeply engrossed in conversation with the stunning woman from earlier, Poseidon didnât even slow his pace. Didnât glance her way. Just dropped a single, casual bomb as you walked by:
âHeâs married.â
The woman froze. Her face shifted in slow motionâsmile fading, posture going rigid. She stared at Zeus as if heâd grown horns.
Without another word, she stood up and walked away.
Zeus groaned, throwing his hands up like a man betrayed. âOh, come on!â
Poseidon didnât even look back. He just smirked.
ââââââđžââââââ
The bus was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine as it rolled down the darkened highway and the faint clicking and tapping of your laptopâs keyboard. The shining lights of the highway infiltrated through the drawn curtains, casting slivers of gold and silver that carved moving shadows across the narrow interior of the bus.
Hades had been the first to foldâcalmly checking his phone one last time before slipping into his lower bunk and offering a quick âGood nightâ like clockwork.
The second was Zeus. He hadnât done much more than mutter âNightâ and disappear into the bunk above Hadesâ. He was usually the last one to fall asleep, staying up for ages doing god knows what on his phone before finally crashing at some ungodly hour. That night, however, heâd passed out almost instantlyâif the deep, rattling snores behind his curtain were anything to go off of.
You had decided to stay up a little longer to transfer the nightâs pictures from your camera to your laptop. You couldn't risk losing themânot when they were so important. They were moments frozen in time, bits of chaos and beauty captured forever. Highlights of a night that pulsed with energy, with light, with the electricity of the crowd. Moments one shouldnât be able to forget.
And then there was Poseidon, the only one in the whole damn bus apparently having a full-blown existential crisis.
He stood motionless in the cramped bathroom, staring into the mirror. His braids had been undone. His expression was unreadable, carved from stillness. He looked down at the loose charms in his hands, fidgeting with them.
He thought about what his brothers had said. Words from earlier refused to leave his head, circling like vultures. âYou need to tell them.â âItâll come back a thousand times worseâ. Like it was that easy. He groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face. He hated to admit it, but he might actually take his brotherâs adviceâfor once, Zeus mightâve been right.
With a deep breath, he finally built up the courage to step back out and maybe, just maybe, face you again. He gave himself one last look in the mirror, fixed his hair half-heartedly, and opened the door.
What he didnât expect was to find you still awake.
You were sitting cross-legged, laptop propped on your thighs as you worked. Your bunk was the top oneâyou had fought tooth and nail to get it, determined not to settle for anything less. What you didnât know was that Poseidon had let you have it, even if heâd never admit it.
He paused, watching you. You were focused, brows furrowed, lip caught between your teeth. The soft blue-white light of your laptop painted your face in quiet hues, and for a moment, he just looked.
âStill awake?â
The sudden voice startled you. You flinched, snapping your head toward him.
He was already dressed for bedâshirtless. Youâd always liked his chest tattoos: ocean blue ink forming intricate images that flowed together like currents, puzzle pieces locked into harmony. His pajama pants hung low on his hips in a way that made it impossible not to look, revealing the start of his happy trail. It wasnât the first time youâd seen him like this, but it was the first time his pants sat that low, inviting your imagination to fill in the rest. And there you wereâjust sitting there, gawking like a total idiot.
He noticed. Oh, he noticed. He raised a brow, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, then casually walked past you.
You snapped out of it fast. âY-yeah, just making sure I donât lose any pictures.â
âItâs been a long day and itâs pretty late.â There was a thread of concern in his voice, so faint you almost missed it. âYou should sleep. You can do that tomorrow.â
He crouched beside your bunk, reaching into your backpack like it was second nature. Like heâd done it a hundred times before. He pulled out the small plastic container where you kept all the little charms and trinkets collected during the tour. Quietly, carefully, he dropped the ones in his hand into itâresetting everything for the next time you'd braid his hair. And heâd let you, without question, because whenever your fingers threaded through his hair, it was like every part of him unraveled in the best possible way.
You returned to your work, fingers tapping away. âI could. But itâs already happened one too many timesâpictures just... vanish. This piece of junkââ You jabbed a finger at your old camera ââneeds some serious repairs.â
âLooks like weâll need to get you a new one.â
You missed the we. âYeah, I already started saving up for a new one.â
He didnât say anything. Didnât correct you. He just reached out and gently took the camera from your hands, putting it into its case without a word, like it was instinct.
With two strides, he was in front of you again. He rested his hands on your knees, peering at you over the top of your screen.
âCan I look at them one last time?â
You turned to him, surprised by his genuine interest. "Of course."
With effortless strength, Poseidon grabbed the edge of your bunk and hoisted himself up, careful not to bump his head in the cramped space. He had to hunch a little to fit. You adjusted your laptop, angling the screen toward him as he settled beside you, shoulders touching.
You scrolled through a few shots together, laughter slipping between you as you pointed out ridiculous expressions and perfectly timed moments. Then you reached a very specific photo. The one Poseidon had grown familiar with earlier that night. He went quiet the second it appeared. You both did. It wasnât an awkward silenceâit was weighty. Intentional. The kind of silence where words werenât really needed.
Still, you felt the urge to speak. To fill it. To say something.
âYou actually managed to look right at the lens.â You said, half a laugh in your voice. âWhich is wild, because with all those lights, Iâd imagine itâd be hard to spot it.â
He didnât answer. He didnât even look at you.
You hesitated, then pushed forward. You had to get it outâwhat had been haunting the back of your mind all night. âYou kept looking at me.â
Poseidon tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking from the screen to you. His thoughts moved a million miles a secondâhis brotherâs warning, the implications, the risk, the truth. And thenâ
Fuck it.
âItâs hard not to.â
You froze.
He had leaned in to say itâso close, his breath brushed your ear, his voice deep and low. Your entire body tensed at the unexpected sensation. The space between you felt suddenly nonexistent. He was always cool to the touch, like the ocean breeze on a late night, but nowânow he was warm. Too warm. His presence was overwhelming in the best way, his body radiating heat like a fire in the dead of winter.
Your fingers stilled over the laptop. The moment stretched. You turned your head, searching his face. His eyes. The small flick of his brow. The rise and fall of his chest. You scanned every inch of him for a clueâfor anythingâwas this just more of the playful flirting he always threw your way?
He waited patiently for your answer, but the way his gaze dipped briefly to your lips... one could tell he didnât have much patience left in him.
That tiny flicker told you everything.
The air between you thickened, charged. Before your brain could scream at you to stop, you leaned in. Somethingâmaybe gravity, maybe fateâpushed you toward him. His lips met yoursâsoft, warm, lingering in a way that felt certain. No hesitation. No teasing. Just him. The scent of smoke and sea salt hit you as you inhaledâcomforting, familiar.
He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his hand drifting to the back of your neck, pulling you in like the tide. You melted into him. The only thing that could part you was the desperate need for breath.
And so it did.
When you finally broke apart, breathless, he hovered just inches away, your noses brushing, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin.
You looked into each otherâs eyes, admiring one anotherâneither of you able to break the silence. His breath brushed against your lips, warm and shallow. And his eyesâoh, those eyesâdeep, deadly, and yet they filled you with something that felt almost like life. They seemed unreal, like they didnât belong to a mere man, but a god. At that point, you wouldnât be surprised if he was one. I mean⊠have you seen him?
You didnât know what possessed you to say what you did next. âYou know⊠everyone always sees you as this rough, bad, untouchable persona you put up. And you go along with it. But I think thereâs more.â
A small part of Poseidon screamed at him to back away. To go back into the bathroom and lock himself inside until the next stop. That you were poking too close to what he didnât want anyone to see. Still, he ignored every warning. He didnât know why. He didnât know how. He just did. âIs there?â
âI know you.â
He let out a short, silent laugh, leaning back slightly at your naiveté. He took the hand he had placed on your neck with him.
Oh, you fucked it up, didnât you? Why did you say that? Fuck. You were so close, and you just ruined everything with three words.
âReally?â
Even though some part of you knew this was probably a terrible idea, you doubled down. âReally.â If you were going to screw everything up, you might as well go all the way.
He smiled, amused. âWeâve only known each other for a few months.â
â...Still.â
Far too entertained, he leaned back even moreâat least as much as the cramped space allowedâand raised a brow. âIf you know meâŠâ He paused, just briefly. âYou should know what I want right now.â
It felt like some kind of test. Torturous. Awful. If you answered the way he wanted, would he keep holding you? If you got it wrong⊠would he leave you high and dry?
âWhat you wantâŠâ You echoed under your breath, your gaze faltering for just a second.
In response, he gently grabbed your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. He was closer now. Heat rushed to your face. Your heart beat so fast you were sure he could feel it.
âWhat do I want?â He whispered, voice dropping an octave. It sounded less like a question, more like a command. âShow me.â
The next kiss was differentâhungrier. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moved over yours, stealing every breath you had to offer. His lips were warm, demanding, moving with purpose as if trying to memorize yours. Your laptop became an afterthought as one of his hands found it and closed it carefully. He pulled it off you, delicately lowering it to his bunk below, the act oddly gentle compared to the feverish kiss.
You subconsciously followed his lips with your own, not wanting to miss his touch again. At your eagerness, he chuckled into the kiss, the low rumble vibrating against your lipsâ
Thud.
He hit the side of his head on the low ceiling ledge, where the curtain rails ran. He muttered a few curses, then finished lowering your laptop, properly this time. He turned to you again just to find you trying to stifle a laugh. When you spotted him looking at you, rubbing the sore spot, you couldnât suppress it anymore.
"Oh, youâre laughing? This is funny?" Despite the words, there was no real heat to them.
"A little bit." You teased.
Poseidon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. âIâll shut you up.â
The third kiss was the best one yet. A perfect mixture of the two that came before. Hungry, but not desperate. Gentle, but not cowardly. His hand cradled the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, grounding you. Your mouths moved together with increasing rhythm, like you were beginning to find the right tempo, the right balance. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, the kiss deepened, turned breathless. It sent sparks across your skin and heat pooling low in your belly.
You finally properly turned your whole body to him. And now, without anything between you two, you were able to pull him closer, grabbed his waist with one hand while the other gripped the fabric of his pants, bunching up right over his thigh. Your bodies pressed together, chest to chest, hips aligned as if molded to fit this way.
He started lowering you back onto the mattress, your bodies a mess of interwoven limbs. He positioned himself over you, one leg between your own, the other to the left side of your body. Arms braced to the sides of your head, holding himself up in a plank position, his weight hovering deliciously close.
As he pulled away from the kiss, he playfully bit your lower lip, not enough to hurtâjust to claim. His long dark hair cascaded around you like a curtain, shielding you from the outside world. Some strands were still curled where you had braided them earlier, contrasting the rest of the silky, straight locks. God, how you loved touching itâfeeling the cool softness slide through your fingers, silky and weightless, like ink in water. You could lose hours playing with it, and by how relaxed he always got under your touch, you knew he liked it too.
Without thinking, you lifted your left hand to pull one of the strands partially covering his face behind his ear, your thumb brushing his cheek along the way. His skin was warm under your touch, a sharp contrast to the cold edge of the metallic hand that suddenly lifted to meet yours, holding it in place with surprising tenderness.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought your hand to his lips. A kiss to your palm. Then your wrist. Then your forearm. Each one slow, deliberate, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading you further into the forest of him. His mouth was soft and reverent, and each touch sent a tremor through youâlike you were being worshipped piece by piece.
When he reached your neck, he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with need. âYou drive me crazy.â
His hot breath brushed over your pulse point, and it hit you like a tidal waveâyour skin prickled with goosebumps, your lungs forgot how to fill. His mouth settled in the delicate space between your jaw and neck, and when he spoke again, it was like a confession dragged from somewhere deep inside him.
"Every time I see someone else as much as look at you the way I want you to look at me, I can barely breathe."
He kissed higher, angling your head with one hand to gain better access. You let him guide you without resistance, surrendering to his touch, your body pliant under his. Your hand slid down his side, curling around his ribcage, as if anchoring yourself to the moment.
"Iâve been thinking about this exact situation for months." He whispered, lips brushing your jaw. âHow Iâd hold you. How Iâd kiss you. How Iâd caress your skin. How youâd have me. How youâd react to all of it.â
Each sentence was punctuated with a kiss: to your chin, the corner of your mouth, the dip beneath your ear. His voice rumbled through your bones, and the heat of his body enveloped you from everywhere at once. He wasnât just closeâhe was everywhere. Around you, above you, inside your chest. Breathing you in like he couldnât get enough.
"I know itâs greedy. I know I shouldn't. I can't help myself." His forehead leaned against yours, voice thick with longing. "Please, lay it all on meâsay youâll be mine."
Your heart felt like it was about to detonate inside your chest. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your fingertips, the very tips of your toes. You had never been more aware of your bodyâand of hisâthan in that moment. The truth sat heavy in your chest. No promises of forever. No declarations of love. There was no romance in his words, only raw longing. But still⊠youâd take what you could and hold it tight. So, if only for a nightâif it was temporary, if it was just lustâyouâd indulge. Youâd be his. If only for a little while.
"Iâm yours." You whispered, your lips barely brushing his own.
âSay that for me one more time.â He whispered. âSay youâre mine.â
"Iâm only yours."
You rose just enough to meet his lips again, but he pulled away at the last second, just to smirk and mutter: "Needy much?"
Your only answer was to tug on his waistband, bringing his hips down so they met the press of your leg. The friction was electric. His breath hitched, his jaw flexed. He tried to stay composed, tried to swallow the sound clawing its way up his throat, but you still heard itâ
A soft, low groan.
He tried to play it off, tried to act like it hadnât affected him, but the slight flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. The crack in his armor only made you smile.
"Youâre the one who pleaded." You said with a smirk.
He let out a breathy chuckle, defeated. "I love it when you do that. But keep it up and see what happens to you."
The warning lit a fire in your stomach. He shifted his weight to the side, leaning into the wall of the bunk for balance. His left hand slid down and gripped your thigh, kneading the muscle, firm and slow. He pulled it up around his waist, drawing you tighter against him. His touch was confident but unhurried, like he was savoring every second of contact.
His fingers traveled upward, brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. Sparks shot down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. You could feel everything. The tension. The weight. The need pressing hot and thick between you both. He held you like you were something fragile, like if he let go too fast, you'd disappear.
With your hand still at his waistband, you moved it, splaying your fingers against the firm plane of his lower stomach. Your palm met the soft trail of hair that led downward. You hesitated only a moment, then followed it, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his pants. The air between you shiftedâcharged, electric. You glanced up at him, silently asking for permission.
He met your gaze. Didnât speak. Just nodded, slow and deliberate. A silent yes.
At your touch, his body tensed. The fabric of his pants suddenly felt too tight, too restrictive. His breathing stuttered, his jaw clenched. It was like youâd hit a switchâone gentle stroke and his composure was slipping through his fingers like water.
He didnât want to let the sounds out. Didnât want you to know just how badly he needed this. So he buried his face in your neck, left open-mouthed kisses that turned into small bites when restraint failed him. Your gasp, soft and surprised, spilled out without permission, and it drove him wild.
The warmth of his mouth, the graze of his teeth, the way his breath fanned across your pulseâit was dizzying. It made your limbs feel like liquid, your thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. You arched into him before you even realized you were doing it.
He smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. He barely had time to say anything beforeâ
âHEY!â
Zeus' voice shattered the moment. âIf you're gonna have sex, do it at the next stop OUTSIDE the bus. I don't wanna hear you two going at it!â
Heat flooded your face. You buried your face in the crook of Poseidonâs neck, laughing softly in embarrassment.
Poseidon groaned. Of courseâhe had finally calmed his insatiable need for you, and now Zeus was butting in? Telling him to stop? After he had told him to do something about his âlittle guyâ? âShut up, Zeus.â
Zeus snickered. âYouâre welcome.â It was revenge for what he had done before.
Poseidon muttered something under his breath, but as you glanced up at himâhis face slightly pink, his lips kiss swollenâyou just smiled.
You gave him one last chaste kiss on the mouth, slow and lingering, a quiet promise that this wasnât the end of whatever had just begun. Your fingers brushed over his arm in a gentle pat, grounding both of you back to reality.
"We should go to sleep." You murmured, your voice softer now, reluctant but firm.
His eyes, still hazy with emotion, softened at the sight of you. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made your heart clench just a little. But he didnât argue. He simply exhaled, slow and steady, before finally loosening his hold on you.
His fingers grazed your waist one last time as he pulled away, as if reluctant to break the connection.
"Yeah," He finally said, voice quieter now. "we should."
With one last glance, he eased himself down from your bunk, settling into his own below you. The space between you suddenly felt colder, emptierâbut the warmth he left behind lingered on your skin. You couldnât help the smile that had formed on your face from ear to ear, you had to physically stop yourself from squealing.
And with that, the bus rolled on, carrying you both into the quiet of the night.

. taglist: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @kyeunderyourbed @burnoutpisces @xdolls-crownx @fastleopard1521 @elysian-asphodel @gdfhi @itsjust-gabs7
#tagging this like itâs my shit cause I need everyone to see it#epic the musical x reader#epic x reader#epic! poseidon x reader#poseidon x reader#etm Poseidon x reader#rockstar au#epic poseidon#epic the musical Poseidon x reader#rockstar au Poseidon#natural disaster au
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Ohhhhh ok you gave way too much power by letting us ask
I'm REALLY curious about "the sea deity sandwich" đ€šđ€šđ€š
PFFT- okay so. This was not going to be the name of the chapter originally but I use a lot of goofy shorthand in my WIPs. @madscribeofthefates saw this section was titled "Sea Deity Sandwich" and went "if you don't call the chapter this I will go into your drive and rename it myself".
Anyways, here's a short excerpt (I draft in bullet points lol):
You whine and let out a breathy moan. In the corner of the room Poseidon growls.
âOh hush, you,â Amphy snaps, pulling away from your neck. âYou get her to yourself any time you want, donât be selfish.â
ââŠjust hurry up.â
âSpoils are meant to be shared, dear husband, and a sweet pearl like this is meant to be savored.â
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