"You were a princess. A princess behaves. So, you pressed your lips together until they were thin and pale, nodded stiffly, and let the weight of his words settle over you. Still, as the servants poured more wine and the conversation turned to other matters, you couldn't stop your mind from wandering. Somewhere across the sea, a boy you'd never met was being told that you would be his bride. Was he just as disgusted? Just as helpless? Or was he laughing with excitement, eager for the day when he could claim his prize? The thought made your cheeks burn with something that wasn't quite anger, wasn't quite embarrassment. Whatever it was, you didn't like it." --- Or, where you are betrothed to Prince Telemachus of Ithaca.

"But now-now Telemachus is here. His hand doesn't grip, doesn't force. It hovers by your cheek, his touch so light it barely brushes your skin, as though even that might be too much. He waits, his breath shallow and steady, as though the world might come crashing down if he moves too soon. There's no pressure, no force, only the quiet assurance that this moment belongs to you and no one else. The contrast is stark, a chasm between what was and what is, and it makes your chest ache with a strange, bittersweet relief. You look at him, truly look at him, and all you see is patience and care. His expression is open, unguarded, as though he's laid himself bare before you." --- Or, where you share your wedding night with Telemachus. (This oneshot is part of the 'Amaranthine' universe, but it is not required to read it - it just adds context.)

"We're not friends," you snap, narrowing your eyes into a glare sharp enough to pierce stone. "And stop calling me that." He tilts his head, his curls catching the faint, flickering light of the soul-lamps nearby. "Calling you what, darling?" he asks, his voice smooth and lilting, every syllable soaked in feigned innocence. Your teeth clench so hard it's a wonder they don't crack. Heat rises in your chest, crawling up your neck like an itch you can't quite scratch. His smirk only deepens, clearly reveling in your irritation, and you have to fight the urge to hurl the pair of gardening shears in your hand at his insufferably perfect face." --- Or, you are the immortal servant to Hades and Persephone, and Hermes cannot help himself but to get under your skin.

You blink, your brain taking a second too long to process it. "She drugged you?" His golden eyes flick to yours, sharp, something almost dangerous sparking behind them. He huffs a laugh, dry, strained, like he's hanging on by a thread. "She called it a 'gift,'" he mutters, rolling his shoulders. "Said I was taking too long to make a move." His breath hitches, his chest rising and falling too quickly as his gaze drops-trailing over you like he can't help it, like he's starving and you're the only thing that could ever satisfy him. "So..." His fingers twitch again, and when he looks back up, his pupils are so blown out that the gold is nothing but a thin ring around the black. "This is me. Trying to be good." His jaw flexes. His breath is shaky." --- Or, Hermes takes an aphrodisiac from Aphrodite and neither you or Hermes can help yourselves with the consequences. [Cross-posted on Wattpad: @tomialshrike-]

"He let out another breath, this one slower, measured, but no less strained. "She told me I was a fool," he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "That I was reckless. That I shouldn't have risked so much for a mortal." Your fingers twitched where they still clutched his sleeve, but before you could speak, his expression shifted. The bitterness drained from it, something else creeping in-something quieter, something raw and open. His hand lifted, covering yours where it clenched at the fabric of his shirt. His fingers were warm, even now, even after everything. "And then she told me," he murmured, voice hushed, fragile like glass, "that she's never seen me love something like this before." --- Or, where Apollo returns from his punishment on Olympus.

"Such a good thing I brought you along," he mused, voice thinner now, the edges of his usual teasing laced with something heavier, something real. His fingers twitched against the armrest before finally reaching out, lazily tracing along your jaw, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. "What would I ever do without you?" You smirked, letting your teeth graze the pad of his thumb before pulling back, fingers tightening slightly around him. "Crash this car, probably." A sharp laugh, warm and genuine, but it melted almost immediately into a shuddering sigh as your fingers wrapped around him completely. And oh, what a view." --- Or, it would be a waste not to put Hermes' car to good use.