#begging on my knees PLEASE PLEASE NOT ME PLEASE ON ALL THINGS ZEUS NOT ME

[saturncherrypie]

but in all seriousness i for real thought my 11 year old 4 foot ass would be a badass demigod 💀

#percy jackson #pjo series #enemies on me at every corner NO BREAK ??? #im crying spitting and throwing up at the oracles feet if it put me on a quest #begging on my knees PLEASE PLEASE NOT ME PLEASE ON ALL THINGS ZEUS NOT ME #putting my godly parent to shame just like my mortal one ✌️

[ibrithir-was-here]

@windsweptinred Another AU Drabble! This time for the old Children of the Endless AU. I know you’ve a soft spot for Destiny so I hope you enjoy this Drabble featuring him!

——————

“Please I beg you!”

The woman who until now had stood so proud, so strong, throughout the tense encounter, now at last fell at Destiny's feet; hard gray eyes softened by the sheen of tears, red hair tumbling out before her like a war banner, fallen to the dirt in defeat.

"My lord, I know the truth of what you are, the truth of your kin, the sires of cursed and accursed Helen and Paris. Lord Apollo's doom upon me has granted this clarity. But your knowledge is greater than the cunning of the Achaens, your power more potent than that of the gods on Olympus. Surely, most surely you can grant this one boon, that at least one man might heed my warnings?"

Destiny's unseeing eyes stared out over the battlements whereon the pair stood, the light of the dawn was choked and gray, struggling through the smoke that rose up from the battlefield surrounding the walls on all sides.

"Mercy is not the province of Destiny, Cassandra"

His voice, to the protastrated woman, sounded as cold and hard as the stones she knelt on, body trembling with both creeping despair and curdling rage.

"It was written in the Book of Destiny that all these things should be so, and they cannot be unwritten"

Cassandra reared up at this, rage overcoming caution as she raised her eyes once more to gaze on this being she had summoned, this being she knew in her more rational mind deserved naught but deference and respect, at least a greater doom then the one she already carried befall her.

For here was one greater than Lord Apollo, then Lord Zeus himself, one who could truly smite her not only from life but all existence if crossed.

She found, alas, she did not care.

"It is written that great Troy, envy of the living world, be razed until not a stone of it is left to us to weep over, for the beauty that was lost and shall never be again?!"

She climbed to her feet as she spoke, words ringing out in the cold dawn, her red hair flying up in the cold wind, torch like in the heat of her passion.

"That my people shall be scattered and set upon like sheep abandoned and left to the ravenings of wolves??"

To Cassandra's distress, the flames of her anger began to flicker under the rising wave of her grief, and the tears that had until now shimmered behind her eyes now at last began to fall, and she thrust forward with the last vestiges of her anger, fists raised to shake a curse at the sky, as gray and implacable as the being before her.

"That my brothers, brave and true and flawed and foolish should all to a man fall and be forgotten?!"

Her grief at last smothered her flame, and despair gripped her as she dropped her head to her hand, knees sinking once more to the ground as she choked out:

"And that I should have the power to foresee it all, and yet be powerless to prevent it?"

Destiny stood over the princess’ shaking form, as silent tears fell from her hidden eyes, looking upon her in a silence that seemed infinite even to himself.

When at last he spoke, there was smallest shift of softness in his tone, so minute that it would have taken another Endless to note it, and so profound a change within their oldest brother would have shaken any one of them.

"What is written cannot be unwritten Cassandra" He repeated, "You, Paris, Helen. All are children of the Endless. In each of you there is an echo of your sire, one that will always ring true, though you struggle against it. Helen draws the Desire of all who look upon her, whether she wills it or not. Paris leads himself and all who surround him to Destruction, whether he seeks it or not.”

And here Destiny stepped forward, only a single step, the first he had taken since Cassandra had summoned him, but it was to any else who could have witnessed it as if an immovable mountain had stooped down to touch the cheek of a crying child.

"And you, Cassandra, last daughter of Troy, daughter of Destiny, you must bear witness to the end of all and all those you most love…"

The dawn finally broke over the city, casting the shadows of Destiny and his doomed daughter across the ramparts like a pair of shrouds.

"Whether we wish it or not"

#she got him a little too close to home with that last line #I feel like Destiny reaches out to Calliope as a former sister in law to insure the story of the fall of Troy is remembered #and to Dream as well for the same thing #it’s the least he can do for his daughter #insure she and her people are at least remembered #if not saved #children of the endless AU #children of the endless #cassandra of troy #the illiad #Troy #the sandman #sandman au #my writing #destiny of the endless #helen of troy #paris of troy #greek mythology

[sardonic-sprite]

Since EPIC has been taking up 90% real estate in my head without paying rent, here goes a series of me ranting about each song <3

The Horse and the Infant

*Entire opening*

I absolutely adore how it starts so quiet, like they're in the horse's belly planning. In my head, that initial rushing sound is a single candle being lit. As Odysseus names people and gets louder, there's more and more light, until on ATTAAAACK!!! the whole Ithacan army comes BURSTING out and it's glorious

Backtracking though,

What do you live for?/What do you try for?/What do you wish for?/What do you FIGHT for?

I used to goof and end on *what do you DIE for* because that's intuitive, but Odysseus directly contradicts that intuition! You can debate or have it coexist whether he's changing the line in that vision of kindness he clings to during the first act or whether he's in denial over the real damage he's causing, but the fact that the line IS this way gives me Feels

And then--

Pe-ne-lo-pe! Pe-ne-lo-pe! And Te-le-ma-cu-us!

The way everything cuts out but but the light strings and ODYSSEUS' OWN FUCKING HEARTBEAT LIKE COME ON! He loves them so much I'm willing to let him commit atrocities.

*insert EPIC battle music*

You can feel the chaos of battle and I don't know how Jay did it but he did and I love it so much

AHHH! *screech*

The sudden shift. Is a new challenger approaching? Sorta. Again, though, almost everything has cut out, but instead of sweet strings and a heartbeat, there's this droning bass like some inexorable, heavy doom approaching, and then there's Zeus, who sounds so imperial and *unfeeling.*

A mission/To kill someone's son/A foe who won't run/Unlike anyone/You have faced before/Say no more!

The clever phrasing is on point, because it tricks us all. And then Odysseus' reply -- he's already so confident, even cocky. He thinks this is some superpowered champ and he's like HELL YEAH ZEUS MA DUDE LEMME AT IM!

*the fucking piano*

It's a lullaby. It's the sound of ice dropping down Odysseus' spine. It's a million memories spinning in his head.

It's just an infant... What sort of imminent threat does he pose...?

The shock, horror, and disbelief... Ow. Odysseus is completely in denial. And then there's almost a scoff to "imminent threat," like he's trying to make Zeus feel like an idiot for fearing a baby, like he'll change his mind.

If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save! You can say good bye to -- Penelope -- You can say goodbye to -- Penelope--

DAMN Zeus pulls the Penelope card. AND YET. They say Penelope twice, just like Odysseus did in the beginning... but it feels so intentional that Telemacus is left out. The gods don't dare put the image of Odysseus' baby boy in his head, or this child will have Telemacus' face and Odysseus will fail.

I COULD RAISE HIM AS MY OWN! he will burn your house and throne OR SEND HIM FAR AWAY FROM HOME! find you wherever you roam MAKE SURE HIS PAST IS NEVER KNOWN-- the gods will make him know

Odysseus offering all these TOTALLY REASONABLE AND WORKABLE suggestions because what the fuck is this command, it's a BABY there are so many other ways-- And every sentence, Zeus and the gods are shooting the idea down with increasingly ridiculous excuses. Ok sure, maybe adopting the kid would end in tragedy when the truth comes out. Ok I guess maybe he'd find out elsewhere and track Odysseus down, but like. BUT THE GODS WILL MAKE HIM KNOW? My dude, WHICH GODS? You want the kid to Not Do A Thing? Right? That's why you want Odysseus to kill him? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU "MAKE HIM KNOW" IF HE'S ABLE TO LIVE IN BLISSFUL IGNORANCE IT WOULD SAVE ALL OF FUCKING GREECE A GOOD DEAL OF AGONY!

I'm on my knees for ya! I'm begging please! ... *thunder* *rain* PLEASE don't make me do this, don't make me do this!

He's so desperate. I want to cry. I am also on my knees begging. I just picture Odysseus shaking his head, tears falling, clinging to hope or delusion that Zeus will change his mind. And the rain... even the sky is crying

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose/All you can choose is whose...

This is. A statement of truth? A prophecy? A curse? It gives me chills, though, especially at the end when there's nothing but the last hiss... It feels *unfinished* like there's more to say, and part of it is how the grammar got rearranged to make the rhyme, leaving out a word or two, but since the meaning is still clear, it throws everything else into doubt. There's also the subtle emphasis Zeus puts on *won't*. What the fuck does that mean? Won't as opposed to can't? As though Odysseus could choose to wash his hands but ultimately chooses more bloodshed? Won't as in it's forbidden? Why? Won't as the future tense of don't? Does that mean it's a prophecy, that Zeus is telling Odysseus a neutral fact? WHAT IS THE EMPHASIS FOR?

Final remarks:

Never read the source material, so it was hard for me at first to get invested when there's all these names, but the pure energy and emotion draws you in no matter what, and in the end everything but Odysseus *literally* fades away.

The first MANY times.I listened, up until I watched this one animatic, I was convinced Odysseus turned away and spared the baby. Or better yet, adopted him (bc Im a Bat girlie first lmao). In my head there's a happy AU where Telemacus gets a new baby brother and meets his uncle Polites and everything is beautiful and shut up don't shatter my illusions I KNOW it has to happen bc *theme*

Is it my favorite song in the musical, no, but do I always sing/mouth along once the energy picks up? Absolutely. Overall, Imma go with 6/10

#sprite said #epic the musical #epic the troy saga #the horse and the infant

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Freaks and Geeks: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

"So, both girls should be in bed by eight. Joanna might fight you to go to bed, but if she has a bedtime story, then she will fall asleep pretty easily as long as it's entertaining. Maryann is only two months old, so she will be needing naps throughout the day. If she wants to sleep, then let her.

"Joanna is at that age where she loves playing with anything she can get her hands on, so please keep the loose items to a minimum." You hand Garth your baby bag with everything he will need. "I have enough formula in here to last Maryann until we pick them up. There are also snacks in here for Joanna."

"Don't worry," Garth says with a smile. "I will take good care of them. I will have a tea party with Joanna all day if I have to."

"Thank you," you chuckle. "This is the first time I'm leaving them alone with a babysitter."

"Your girls are in good hands." Garth slings the baby bag over his shoulder and pauses. "Look, I'm sorry about Rob--"

"I will call you when we are on our way to pick them up," you cut Garth off, not wanting to relive the worst thing to ever happen to you. "We shouldn't take too long. Thank you for doing this."

Garth nods, understanding that you don't want to talk about this.

"Take your time."

Both girls are sleeping in Garth's car, so you and Dean kiss their heads before leaving them in Garth's care. You don't want to take them on this hunt knowing what happened last time with Artemis and Zeus. If you're going to keep them safe, you have to look at safer options for them.

There is a city with vampire problems, so that's where you're heading next. The sheriff has been expecting you since Sam called it in, so when you finally get there, the sheriff is waiting for you in the lobby. Instead of going in right away, you stay in the car a little bit to talk about what you might be walking into.

"So, what are we looking at again?" Dean hands Sam the newspaper that caught his attention. "Two young women found near the freeway with their throats ripped out."

"Sounds vampy to me," you shrug.

"Listen, if you want to take a knee on this one if you're not feeling up to it, I wouldn't blame you."

"What?"

"You know, with the trials and what Cas said that you got what he can't cure?"

"Which means what, exactly?"

"I don't know. You tell me. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Sam raises his eyebrows and Dean rolls his eyes. "Are you talking about my feelings?"

"If that's what you want to talk about, then sure."

"Okay. I'll tell you what. Why don't I go get some herbal tea, and you can find some Cowboy Junkies on the dial," Dean says sarcastically.

"Eat me, Dean."

"No, only Y/N gets to say that."

"Dean," you say, your eyes going wide. Sam rolls his eyes and gets out of the car, already done with his brother. You and Dean get out, following closely behind Sam. "You can't just say that."

"What, you're my favorite meal," he smirks.

You shake your head and enter the police station where Sheriff Oscar Mann is waiting for you.

"Glad you guys could come."

"What can you tell us?"

Oscar leads you three to the back of the police station as he explains what's going on here.

"Well, both victims were female, under twenty-one, and they were drained of all their blood. We found that strange, but then last night, things got even stranger."

"Last night? What happened?"

Oscar approaches a computer and brings up surveillance footage of last night's attack.

"We set up a security camera on Fuller's Point for safety purposes. It's where our local young people like to go make out. Last night, things got crazy."

Oscar presses play, and you watch what happened. There is someone on their knees begging not to be killed. Three young people come into frame, but when you see just who it is, your eyes widen. On screen is Krissy, the young girl you had to work with because her dad was captured by Vetalas. Sam doesn't seem to recognize her, but Dean does, and you make eye contact with him to show him you know who this is.

Krissy and her friends kill the vampire by slicing his head off.

"Hell of a thing, ain't it?" the sheriff says.

"Have you ID'd any of these people?"

"Well, not yet. The crime scene was empty when we got there. I'm thinking it's some kind of cult or a drug thing, so I put a statewide APB out on these three about an hour ago."

"I'm gonna need you to call that off, and we're gonna need this footage," Dean says.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard him," you back up your husband. "You just crossed streams with a federal investigation. Now, I suggest you cooperate, call off your APB, or you're not going to like us for much longer."

"Okay, no problem," the sheriff says.

He's confused, but he doesn't want to get in your way of doing your job. Sam is confused as to why you're like this, but as soon as the sheriff calls off the search, you grab the footage that's on some USB before leaving the station.

"What the hell was that?"

"One of the girls in the video is Krissy Chambers. Do you remember her?"

"Yeah, the Vetala case, right? They were working that truck stop by the freeway. She and her dad helped us shut them down."

"Well she's hunting, and I don't see her dad in the video. Either he doesn't know about it, or he's not in the picture anymore."

"Is that what kids are doing for kicks these days?" Dean scoffs.

"Maybe he's helping her out," Sam says.

"You really think he'd let her get caught on camera? Let's just find her before she gets into more trouble."

There aren't a lot of places three teenagers can stay in, so you checked all the shady motels around town. Only the sketchy ones will let teenagers rent rooms from them even though it's illegal to do so.

The last one you visit must be the right one because as soon as you see the front desk clerk, he pales.

"We're looking for three teenagers. Did you sell them a room here?" you ask.

"No, that would be illegal."

"You're right, it would be, but you did it anyway." You show him your badge, and he visibly gulps. "Tell me what room they're in, and I'll let this slide this one time."

"Room 201," he sighs.

"Good. Thank you."

Sam picks the lock before you have a chance to break it open with your magic. There can be anything behind this door, so you have to prepare yourself for anything. You walk in first with Sam and Dean behind you. Everything is quiet, there are computers set up for surveillance, and there are open snack wrappers.

Before you have a chance to explore further, you hear a gun click from the right of you, and you look to see Krissy there with a gun pointed at you.

"Hey, Krissy," Dean says without looking at her.

"What are you three doing here?"

"Saving your ass," you say.

"Does it look like my ass needs saving? Wait. How'd you find me? I paid cash everywhere."

"Yeah, well, shady motels means giving underaged people rooms. Plus, it helps when you have magical powers," you smirk.

"Krissy, where's your dad?" Sam asks.

"Dead. Well, let's do this again, like, never. Now go. We got this."

"We who? What do you got?"

Krissy lowers her gun and walks over to one of the open laptops. On screen are two of Krissy's friends walking into a room where a woman is tied to the bed. She is moaning in pain, but she doesn't seem concerned with hurting the kids who walked in on her.

"She's a vampire."

"We're in. The room's clear. Nobody here but a vic," one of Krissy's friends says.

"That's Josephine. With her is Aiden."

"Where are they?" you demand, not leaving any room for question.

Once Krissy gives up the room they're in, you three book it out of the room to save her friends' asses. Suddenly, there is a loud noise that comes from the room. Aiden turns around and sees a vampire slam the door to the room. He hisses and tosses Jospehine to the wall. You slam the door open with your magic just in time to see the vampire jump through the window.

You run over to the window, ignoring the woman on the bed and Krissy's friends. You're on the second story, but that doesn't seem to matter to the vampire. The vampire is running across the street towards a blue van.

"I got him!" Krissy yells.

She runs out of the motel room, and you curse at her eagerness. Sam stays with the two friends while you and Dean run after Krissy. She is going to get herself killed if she continues down this path like this.

By the time you get out there, the vampire is begging for his life. Krissy takes out what looks like a dart gun and shoots the vampire in the leg. He falls to the ground and turns over to face Krissy who is pissed. You pant when you get to her side, but she makes no move to look at you.

"Don't shoot me! Please, don't! It hurts so bad!"

"How did you drop him so quickly?" Dean asks.

"Darts filled with dead man's blood."

"Where's the blue van?" you ask, not seeing it on the street.

"What blue van?"

"Nevermind."

Dean takes out a knife to kill the vampire with, but Krissy is quick to stop him.

"Wait, stop! This is not your kill."

"What are you talking about?"

Josephine, Aiden, and Sam come running out to the street to face the vampire they've been hunting.

"Three months ago, this blood banger snuck into a house and killed three people in their sleep," Josephine pants to catch her breath.

"What?! No! I didn't do that!" the vampire pleads.

"One was a woman who never hurt anyone! The other two, a brother and a sister. I came home from a friend's house, and I found them. They were my family!"

"This isn't happening. I didn't do anything, I swear. Please, help me!" the vampire begs you and the brothers.

Josephine ignores the vampire and takes her own machete out. Despite the vampire's claims that he didn't do this, she slices his head clean off. Dean looks around to see if anyone saw, Sam just looks pissed, and you're disappointed at her.

"Can we talk to you, please?" you ask the young woman.

"Do you know these people?" Aiden asks protectively.

"Calm down, Romeo," you roll your eyes.

"We have a past."

Krissy comforts Josephine before complying. You and Dean take her off to the side while Sam stays with the other two.

"You're gonna have to catch us up. What happened here? Did your dad even try to stay away from this life?"

"He did. For a while, it was amazing. We had dinner every night at a table. We watched TV, went on walks, and even went to the mall. Then, the past came a-knockin'. I woke up one morning and found him dead with his throat ripped out."

"I'm sorry," you sigh.

"Me too. If it weren't for Josephine and Aiden, I don't know how I would have made it."

"So, they both lost their families, as well?"

"Yeah, by the same vampires whose nest we're hunting."

"I understand your pain, I really do, but you are way too young to be doing this."

"How old were you when you first started? You're never too young to kill monsters, especially the ones that kill your family," she says angrily.

"You're missing the point, here. Hunting isn't about revenge. Did we talk about this last time?" you sigh. "Do you have any family around here?"

"An aunt in Cincinnati. Why?"

"You're packing a bag, and we're taking you there," Dean determines.

"I think Victor's gonna have a problem with that."

"Who the hell is Victor?"

"He took us in and showed us everything we know."

"What, like a school for hunters?" Dean chuckles.

You don't know why, but that sticks to you more than you care to admit.

"Don't be such a dweeb, okay? We're not the X-Men. Victor's helping us get revenge," Krissy chuckles.

"Yeah, well, I don't care what he is. He sucks because you and your little crew here got caught, and if it wasn't for us, your faces would be splattered all over the news."

"Maybe it's time that people know the truth about what's really going bump in the night."

"Yeah, because that's smart. Let's just cause international panic. That's a great plan," you scoff.

"Look, I don't need you to save me. I'm not a little kid anymore."

Krissy walks away, clearly done with the conversation. She's only going to learn when this whole thing bites her in the ass later. Krissy joins her friends in bagging up the body when Sam joins you and Dean.

"What happened?"

"She's hell bent on revenge, that's what happened. I swear to God, if Joanna and Maryann end up like that, I'm taking them out of the world."

"I'm with you on that one," Dean agrees.

"Did she tell you about Victor?"

"What the hell are we supposed to do with that? These kids are driven by revenge and rage. They are going to get themselves or someone else killed. The only way they're going to learn is the hard way, and we need to be here to clean up their messes."

"Does this mean we're talking to Victor?"

"Looks like it."

Krissy knows you're not leaving until you talk to Victor, so she and her friends lead you to where they are staying. It's actually a very nice house that looks big enough for three families to live in. This is too nice to be a headquarters for hunters.

"This is not what I'd call a compound," Dean mutters.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fic #spn fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fiction

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Wife of Poseidon

WARNING: Contains Smut, Rape & Brutal Murder. If you are sensitive to these topics or under the age of 18, don’t read. Also, if my interpretation of Poseidon is a little off, I do apologise. And he is a little (very) yandere in this. This also contains a character of my own making… so if you don’t like that, don’t read it.

Within Poseidon’s Palace, lives a beautiful woman with gorgeous blue hair that almost sparkled in the light. Her eyes matched the blue of the ocean and her body was so voluptuous, only wearing a white bodysuit with golden accents and pale blue jewels on her collar and her hips. Along with gloves and matching stockings, a sheer blue material connecting her outfit together and trailing behind her. Her name is Aquamarie and she was Poseidon’s Queen.

She was beyond beautiful in Poseidon’s eyes and the perfect Queen for him due to her Humility and Kindness. And no one was allowed to look directly at his Queen unless they wanted their head to leave their shoulders. The God wasn’t necessarily worried that another man would steal his Queen from him, especially since she had already pledged her loyalty to him and loved him unconditionally. He just didn’t want his beautiful wife to be tainted with another ones gaze, especially from his servants.

She walked down the Palace, and into the Throne Room, only to find a bunch of dead servants and her angry husband. ‘Oh dear! Isn’t it too early for this?! I only just woke up!!!’ She ran over to him and asked, “What happened?!!” He looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek, making her blush and smile under his gentle touch. “They were tainting you with their with words of lust and perversion, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. Anyone who thinks like that about you must be taken out… no questions asked. Now, let’s leave… I wouldn’t want their blood to taint your loveliness”, he told her.

The other Gods believed that Poseidon was actually using Aquamarie more as his property than his actual wife. But the truth was far sweeter. She is the only woman that understands him, the only woman to love him for the brutal God he is, and the only woman he could love. Which is exactly the reason why he wouldn’t want anyone to taint her with their disgusting words, touch or even sight. This was just in his nature, to keep his wife from experiencing anything he deemed unworthy of her.

“Poseidon… you really must stop killing our servants though, or else you won’t have any left. Next time, just try throwing them in the dungeon”, she suggested. He hummed and asked, “Do you disagree with my methods?” She sighed and gently placed her hands on his chest before saying, “Of course not. But you should think about this logically. You cannot always resort to violence when things start to displease you.” He hummed and walked past her before saying, “You know I cannot do that my love. There are reasons for my titles, and I cannot throw that away by suddenly becoming merciful.”

Aquamarie stood next to him in silence and he looked at her before suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Hm…?” She stopped and turned back to look at him. His stance was almost as solid as rock, but she giggled when she saw the softness in his eyes… as well as the slight blush in his cheeks. She placed her arms around him and then kissed him gently. Poseidon closed his eyes and kissed her back, making every servant watch. He only had one weakness and that was the beautiful woman in his arms. No one would think that ‘The Most Fearsome God’ had a soft side and that’s because only his wife saw it. If anyone else did… they were killed.

“I’m sorry… I should’ve kissed you as soon as I saw you”, she said with blush coating her cheeks. He then whispered in her ear, “That’s going to cost you later, my beloved.” Then he held her hand and walked to the meeting room, where many other Olympian Gods and Goddesses were. Hermes bowed respectfully in their presence and then said, “Lady Aquamarie, I have tea and cakes laid out for you.” She smiled happily and said, “Thank you Hermes~!” And then she took her seat next to her husband before looking happily at her spread. “I see that your wife has a sweet tooth, brother!”, Zeus said with a smirk. “Hmph.” “Silent as ever I see.”

After the meeting was over, Poseidon walked out with his wife, who was still eating cake. “Hmm~, delicious~!” He looked at her and sighed before grabbing her chin, making her look at him. “You’re a messy eater…”, he said to her before licking her chin and then her lips. She blushed heavily and finished eating, before looking up at him. “Hm… not my first choice. But it’s not bad either”, he said to her before walking away. “H-Hey…! You can’t just do something like that and then walk away as if nothing happened!”, she protested. He chuckled at the claim she was making and then said, “Don’t dawdle then… come here if you want me to pleasure you but also punish you for not kissing me as soon as you woke up.”

Hours later, in the bedroom, Poseidon had his wife begging for mercy under his surprisingly gentle touch. He had already cum inside of her multiple times but he didn’t let her cum once, overstimulating her. Aquamarie begged and begged as he trusted into her while playing with her clit, making her scream out. He smirked and kissed her neck as he used his other hand to squeeze her breast. “M-My Lord… Poseidon~…! I’m begging you…!!! It won’t happen again…!!! Let me cum~…!!!”, she begged as she leaned her head back on his shoulder. Poseidon loved the fact that his wife was a masochist, but even he knew that she had her limits. She tried to stop herself, but she started to squirt into his hand. He smirked and whispered, “Don’t you dare… not until I finish inside of you again, my dearest.”

She screamed as she was put onto her hands and knees. He spanked her a few times, making sure red marks were present on her. Then he held her hips pretty hard, hoping bruises would form on her beautiful body. He leaned down and kissed her skin, leaving more and more markings on her. He wanted the entire world to know that she belonged to him and only him. She was his Queen, his Wife, his beloved and hopefully one day… the Mother of his children. “I want to breed you…”, he confessed. “Then please… breed me. I want your children~”, she responded before turning around so she could look at him. He kissed her and then said, “Cum with me, my love.” Poseidon grunted as he felt himself cum inside of her once more, but that was nothing compared to her screaming as she came. “POSEIDON~!!!”

Aquamarie fell on their bed as he pulled out of her and gently pulled her into his arms, kissing her head. A giggle escaped her lips and she kissed his cheek. “That was mean.” He smirked and then kissed her properly before saying, “But you deserved divine punishment for not kissing me this morning.” She cupped his cheeks and brought him down for another kiss, wrapping her arms around him. “Hmm… don’t tempt me to fuck you again.” “Hehe~. I won’t… I don’t think my hips can handle it…”, she replied. Poseidon rested her upon their bed and kissed her cheek. “Rest up, my love.” “I will.” As he exited the room, fully clothed, a few servants wanted to exact revenge on the God for his ruthless nature.

Poseidon sat on his throne, looking as bored as ever. His wife was sleeping, there were no more meetings for the day, so he felt as though he could just fall asleep then and there. He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about his beloved Queen and their future children. But that was interrupted by Aquamarie’s scream. His eyes widened and he grabbed his Trident before heading straight to his bedroom, only to see a few of Aquamarie’s maids outside, attempting to get in. “Stand back!”, he ordered. Once they were out of the way, he kicked the door down, taking it off its hinges and walked in.

His eyes widened at what he saw. Three of his servants having their way with his defenceless wife. Her eyes almost had no colour in them as they fucked her from behind, fucked her mouth and took pleasure in the sight of Poseidon’s wife being violated by them. “You filthy bastards…!”, he said, his voice filled with rage as he pulled the one watching away from her and skewered him with his Trident, not killing him though. He then pointed the bloody Trident at the other two and shouted, “Get your filthy cocks away from my wife, this instant!!!” His orders were clear, but they were ignored.

Aquamarie then screamed as one of them grabbed her hair, pushing himself further inside, hurting her. Tears ran down her cheeks, which was the last straw for him. He grabbed the one violating her mouth and threw him against the wall, knocking him out. “I’m sorry my dear…”. And finally used the end of his Trident to push the other against the headboard, knocking him out as well. His wife then crawled up to him and hugged him. “I-I’m sorry…!!!” “Don’t you dare apologise… they’ll be receiving the worst punishment possible for this”, he whispered back to her. “Maids! Take care of my Queen and clean her up!” They obeyed immediately and two of them helped her stand up before placing a robe around her.

While the servants were being tortured, the maids cleaned her up, and then got her to rest in a hot spring just after her bath. “Is that all, my lady?”, one of them asked. “Yes… please tell Poseidon where I am. I want to see him.” “Of course. Please have a lovely rest”, the maid said before leaving. Tears ran down the Queens cheeks and she cried into her hands, as she felt as if she had betrayed her own husband. The maid walked down into the dungeons and approached Poseidon, bowing in the process. “My Lord… Queen Aquamarie would like to see you in the hot springs as soon as possible.” “Alright…”.

The Tyrant of the Seas was covered in blood, looking at the three servants who violated his beloved wife. They weren’t so much as allowed to look at her, so the crime they committed deserved a fate worse than death. “Call Hades and make sure these three are tortured in the Underworld for all eternity”, Poseidon said as he walked away. “Yes, my Lord.” The God showered himself and washed away the blood before heading towards the Hot Spring, which he only had in his Palace since Aquamarie loved the ones in Japan. He wasn’t too fond of humans, if anything he hated them. But he tolerated their customs, especially if his wife did.

Poseidon wasn’t surprised to see his wife crying on the side of the hot spring. He got in the water alongside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry…! I’m sorry!” He rubbed her back and said, “I told you not to apologise. You were asleep, tired and sore. They used that to their advantage… but I can assure you, that they’ve been punished for their actions.” She nodded, but that did not stop her from crying her heart out. Unlike most Gods and Goddesses, she did not have a heart of steel and was very gentle. He kissed her and placed a hand over heart, as if he wanted to heal it. “Hey… you’re still having my children”, he reminded her. She giggled and said, “Yes… Yes I am~.”

END

#record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #canon x oc #don’t like don’t read

[hongjoongslut]

Title: Mortal Chaos

after being banished from Mount Olympus, you are forced to wreak havoc on mortals. every man that has stepped into your life, they’ve fallen to your knees and did what you asked at will. no mortal man has ever given you trouble or attitude at your requests, except for one. Yoo Kihyun.

pairing: goddess!reader (Até, goddess of mischief, delusion, ruin, and blind folly, rash action and reckless impulse) x mortal!mafialeader!Kihyun

rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.4k

warnings: greekmythology!au, tatted!kihyun, nonidol!kihyun, reader is such a bitch but thats how she was made, mafia themes, sarcasm, so much sarcasm, mentions of readers and kihyun’s past victims, reader and kihyun have a physical fight but it doesn’t last long.

NSFW warnings: dom!kihyun, brat!reader, unprotected sex (this goddess has superpowers to not get pregnant lol, always wear protection), pull out method, oral (f receiving), kihyun is a cocky little shit in bed, slight degradation from both parties but no harsh names

BTW reader's thoughts are in italics :)

Enjoy!!

being a goddess should be beautiful, right? it’s not everything it sounds like. you just so happen to be one of the few goddesses that are feared instead of loved. you’ve made men do unspeakable things countless times, they just fall to your knees and bend at your will. for years you fooled gods until Zeus had enough of your antics. he banished you to Earth. now you’re stuck with pathetic mortals, but at least you can still wreak havoc here.

you can’t exactly be in your goddess form without notice, so you pretend to be some sort of rebel among the others. you’re going to your usual club where sorry, pathetic men roam freely, unknowingly that you’re about to ruin their lives. “these mortal songs aren’t too bad.” you thought to yourself, searching for your prey. you see a few men that are far from sober and you almost pity them, almost. no one has really sparked your interest, so you go on the dance floor. “might as well act as a mortal since i’m here.” your outfit is sure to spark men at a club, how could they not fall in love with fishnets hugging your thighs oh so deliciously.

so far you’ve been looking for random men to practice on, while you wait for your target to show up. Yoo Kihyun. you’ve been in this town for a while, and everybody you meet tells you to stay away from him and his gang, Monsta X. there’s wanted posters almost everywhere you go. you thought the members would be nice to mess with, but once you figured out who the leader was, your heart was set. he was definitely a handsome man, even a blind person could see so. his men are attractive as well, you’re sure so many women fall to their feet.

you’re dancing in a crowd of people who smell of sweat and alcohol. “almost smells like sex.” of course you’ve been bumped into, but someone is getting a little to close for your liking. you push it off until someone grabs your hips and tries to make you grind on them. you turn to find some wasted dude, smirking. “back the fuck off bitch, you don’t want to mess with me.” he laughs “i can’t resist you baby…” he slurs. you scoff, shoving him away. you turn to dance again but he grabs your wrist. “feisty, i love it sweetheart.” you’ve had it. you turn and sock him directly in the nose. “don’t fucking touch me. go to hell.” he stumbles, blood beginning to pour from his now crooked nose. “you bitch…i’m gonna kill you!” he tries to run to you, but he is stopped by a tatted arm. “get the fuck out of my club before i deal with you myself.” the man turns to face Yoo Kihyun, his eyes immediately widened. the drunk runs away from the situation, leaving you and Kihyun standing there.

“im so sorry about that ma’am. you did break his nose, i’m impressed. i’ve never seen a woman do that.” he scoffs, now facing you. “can i get you anything on the house for dealing with such an asshole?” you smile. “No thanks, but is there any first aid kit in here? My hand really hurts..” you rub your perfectly fine hand. “i’ve got you kihyun.” he nods. “follow me. don’t worry, we’ll get that hand looked at.” you walk behind him, studying his features. “he really is handsome. i’m gonna have so much fun with him.” he brings you to his office, guiding you to a chair. “i’m sure you may have just bruised or maybe even broke it. you socked the hell out of him.” he laughs again. “you’d be perfect for the mafia. i’m sure you’ve heard this town is filled with gangs left and right.” he turns to you and examines your hand. “wow, i don’t see any cuts or bruises. it doesn’t feel broken or anything, you’re a strong woman.” he looks at you smirking. “thank you, what’s your name?” he rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“have you not been in town for long? everybody here knows my name. I’m Yoo Kihyun, I run this club.” he offers his hand, you reach out to shake it. “ahh, well nice to meet you Kihyun, i’m y/n.” he smiles. “what a beautiful name, it suits such a badass woman like you.” you start to admire his office. “he has good taste in decor and aesthetic.” you walk around, analyzing his office. “this office is gorgeous, who are all these people?” you point to a picture of him and Monsta X. he walks to you, seeing what picture you’re pointing at. “ahh, those are my closest friends. they work for me here at this club.” you can feel the music blaring through the floor. “you know, i actually recognize these men. i think they’re in some sort of gang.. why would you be friends with such horrible people?” you start to back away, pretending to be scared.

“so you did know who i was all along. i’m not that dumb sweetheart.” he looks at you, then walks to his door and locks it. “so, who do you work for and why are you here? i suggest you tell me willingly or we’ll have to get it out another way.” you back away from him, your butt hitting his desk. “i-i don’t work for anyone! i just came here because my boyfriend just left me and my friends suggested i come here to forget about that asshole… please don’t hurt me!” you really should become an actor, he’s completely fooled. “i’m so sorry about that y/n.. i can make him disappear you know. just say the word and it will be like he never existed.” you smiled, looking down to his feet. his finger comes to your chin, lifting your face. “you’re really beautiful darling. he’s missing out on such a kickass woman. tell me, since you’ve definitely heard of my gang, what do you think of me?” you don’t know how he’s affecting you, this isn’t supposed to happen. wetness fills between your legs.

“i think you’re very attractive and maybe you need a woman by your side to help with this shitty town. i may look innocent, but i’ve done unspeakable things baby.” he smirks, eyeing your features. “you wouldn’t last five minutes in my gang babygirl. we’re feared internationally.” you hum, biting your lip. “i’ve terrorized gods and men alike. nothing scares me.” you reach to hold his cheek. “maybe it’s you that wouldn’t last five minutes with me.” you wink, caressing the apple of his cheeks. you feel his cheeks becoming warm. “why don’t we test that theory then darling. you sure you want me and you can handle me? i wouldn’t want to be the same person that asshole downstairs.” you shake your head. “you’re so much better than him. give me your worst-“ you lean into his ear “-daddy.”

he steps back, eying your figure. “you play a wonderful lie darling, but i’m not fooled. i suggest you tell me why you’re really here or im getting my friends up here. you do not want that sweetheart.” he pulls a knife from his pocket, holding it against your throat. you laugh. “oh kihyun, you really think this knife scares me? you’re all bark and no bite baby.” his pupils dilate, pushing the knife closer to your throat. “don’t fucking push me brat.” you stare at each other for a moment before you push him away. you punch his stomach, making him stumble back. “instead of using the cowards way out, show me how tough this mafia leader really is.” he scoffs. “im not hitting a lady. get out before i change my mind.” you walk towards him. “if you want me out so badly, why did you lock the door?” you push him to his knees and knee him in the jaw, making him lay flat on the floor. “i suggest you do as i say or you’ll be my next victim.” he sighs. he wraps his leg around yours, pulling you to the ground. he punches you hard in the gut, making you whine slightly. he pulls out a walkie talkie. “boys, get up here, now.” your eyes widen.

“they will be here soon unless you apologize darling, i suggest you do so.” you sigh, not wanting to ruin your plan, “i’m sorry kihyun...im just fighting because its all i know how to do. I’ll leave you alone.” he lets you up and calls his members. “nevermind that, boys. i’ve got it handled.” you let a small smile show to your face. you turn to leave his office when he stops you. “y/n, i never thought i’d beg to anyone but we definitely need you in our group. we may look handsome but its nothing to your beauty. not to mention, you can definitely fight and defend yourself. please darling, i’ll do anything.” you smile subconsciously. “oh how dumb can you really be?” you stare at him, watching him eye you up and down. “listen here. if i tell you my secret, i’d have to kill you, but just know that i can fight a lot better than what i did with you. i’ve never seen someone so handsome...it attracts me.” he smirks. “Well, what do i need to do so you’ll join Monsta X princess?” you stare at him for a moment before softly pecking his lips. “how about you show me how one of the most feared leaders is when he’s begging to cum?” something switched in his eyes, you could see it. “i definitely will, brat.”

he picks you up with ease and slams you on his desk. his lips are devouring yours and his tongue is exploring every part of your mouth. “how the hell is a mortal making me so aroused?” he leaves your lips to mark your neck. your body is getting antsy. “as much as i love this, just fuck me already kihyun...or is it that you’re too weak to please me?” he grabs your throat, closing his hands. The loss of air is so thrilling, you almost don’t want him to leave. “princess, that’s not the case at all. you better learn your place quickly or you’re not cumming at all tonight.” he rips off your shirt, taking a second to view you. “so beautiful darling...and all for me.” you smile at his words. he removes your pants, leaving you in just your lacey boyshorts. “i swear if he judges me for wearing boyshorts, i will actually kill him” he removes them, staring directly at your pussy. “so wet...yet you called me weak? how ironic.” he licks a stripe on you, your entire body losing itself. “sweet tasting, beautiful looking and is badass? you must be my dream.” he goes back to your pussy, eating you as if he has never tasted food before. moans leave your mouth, your mind can’t even process words. “kihyun...don’t fucking stop please...holy shit.” he doesn’t respond verbal;y, he responds with pushing his index finger into your soaking cunt. “god…. i cannot wait to feel these walls against my cock. so perfect princess.” a familiar feeling is bubbling inside you. “kihyun, im so close...please let me cum!” he looks up at you, smirking at your already fucked out state. “since you asked so nicely, cum all over my tongue darling.” he starts eating you out again, his tongue and fingers moving faster than the speed of light. you scream his name as you cum. he leans up, licking his lips. “the sweetest thing i’ve ever had baby. he removes his shirt, showing you his inked chest. “holy shit, how does he keep getting hotter?” he sees you looking at his chest. “you got a staring problem baby. i know, they make me so irresistible.” you roll your eyes. “come fuck me already or i will blue ball you in a split second.” his eyes widen. he takes his pants off, slipping his boxers off with them. “are you on birth control?” he softens a bit. “im not able to get pregnant, and i wont tell you why.” he laughs. “jeez, so hostile.” he slowly pushes in, watching your reaction. “holy shit kihyun…” he sighs. “so warm and wet...i am definitely not gonna last long.” he pushes further until he bottoms out. he watches how your body is reacting, making sure he isn’t actually hurting you. “please move kihyun. i can’t wait any longer.” he pulls out slowly only to go back in harder. he picks up his pace, moans bouncing off the walls. “shit...you’re so perfect y/n, i wish i could stay in this pussy all day.” you can’t pronounce anything but his names and very explicit words. you’re uncontrollably squeezing down on his cock, making him falter his pace. “you’re squeezing down on me….god im so close.” you can feel another orgasm bubbling inside you. “k-kihyun, please please please let me cum, wanna-wanna cum all over your cock.” his breathing and pace is becoming irregular. “yes... yes princess, cum all over my cock.” he rubs your clit, making you scream. your orgasm hits you hard, your body shaking uncontrollably. “princess…. holy shit!” he pulls out of you, shooting his cum all over your stomach. he sighs, still getting over his high. he grabs a tissue from his desk and wipes you clean. he helps you back into your clothes. he starts dressing himself, wearing a permanent smile. “so, is that what i needed to do for you to join my gang, princess?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“you’re so arrogant kihyun, but hell yes.”

oh my goodness my baby is finally out!! it took a while for me to finish this but i absolutely love this

#godsamongus #kihyun smut

[teddy06writes]

Greek Myth Series: Eros and Psyche Part One

Eret x afab! reader

trigger warnings: yelling, mentions of pregnancy

premise: so the story of Eros and Psyche is kinda complicated, and no that many people know it, if you want to find out about it in a different context you can here or if you want to go into this blind, go ahead.

list of Greek Gods/characters for this work

Eros- Eret

Aphrodite- Puffy

Zephyrus- Philza

Zeus- Dream

Pan- Tubbo

{I tried to keep this gender neutral, but in the myth Psyche does end up pregnant, and its kind of a big plot point, I'm sorry.}

{also I forgot how long this story is, so I'm going to split it in two, on one hand so that I don't leave yall without content, and two because it'll be easier for me that way}

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There was a city state, long ago, near the sea, that was known for its beautiful royal family. The eldest daughters of the king had been considered the most beautiful in all of the land, until the youngest child, (y/n), came of age.

It is said that their beauty surpassed that of everyone in the kingdom, and where ever they went the people flocked, eager to earn their favor.

(y/n) knew of their beauty, but they did not look upon themself in vain, but they did know that this beauty caused jealousy among many, especially their sisters.

What they did not expect of this, was when the people of their kingdom began to worship them, as if they were the goddess of beauty, Puffy herself.

Now this was never something that (y/n) wanted, all they had wanted was to live a normal life, but now they had to stay shut up in their chambers, trying to ignore the cries from outside.

They were admired by all, yet wanted by none.

And as Puffy grew jealous, and planned with Eret to exact her revenge, (y/n)'s father sought help from the good oracle of Delphi, what was he to do if everyone in the land loved their looks, but no one wanted their hand in marriage.

As the months passed, and their chambers seemed to become even more like a prison and their sisters married other monarchs, (y/n) began to loath their beauty, wishing there was some way to be rid of it.

Having returned from his journey to Delphi, the king entered their chambers, "My child," Said he, "I have sought an answer, and answer, the oracle has given."

"And what answer is that?" (y/n) asked.

"In three days time we will hold your wedding," He took a shaky breath, "You are to be wedded to a dreadful monster, and in three days time, we will take you to the rock spire, at the edge of our kingdom, and leave you to him."

A gasp rippled through (y/n)'s throat, and they fell to their knees, "Father please don't leave me to die!"

He shook his head, "It is already done."

The three days passed in quick succession, and soon, (y/n) found themselves being led through the kingdom, dressed in a blackened wedding gown.

As their parents wept, they held their head high, having resigned to their fate.

Upon reaching the top of the spire, their family tearfully departed, leaving (y/n), wind whipping through their hair, dreadfully alone. Slowly, they inched closer to the edge, staring down to the rocky shore from which the pillar had grown.

A partially strong gust of wind caught them in the back, unexpected, and as they toppled over the side a scream ripped through their throat.

It took them a moment to realize that they had not made impact with the ground, that rather, they were floating, flying, being carried across the lands.

"Fear not," A disembodied voice assured them, "I am Philza, the west wind. No harm shall come to you."

(y/n) remained terrified until they were at last gently set upon the soft grass of a meadow.

"Go now, explore your new home." Philza urged.

Slowly, (y/n) moved forward, gaping as a huge villa came into view at the other end of the valley. As they drew further up the path, more disembodied voices greeted them.

"What is this place?" They asked softly, looking around in amazement.

"Why do you wonder so much of this finery? It is your own, do go inside, and rest and bath, and then there shall be a great feast." A soft, breezy voice returned.

Hesitantly, they did, enjoying a fresh bath, and much food and entertainment, but slowly, as night began to fall, the gayety died away, and they were urged to get ready for bed.

Having changed into night clothes, and climbed into bed, the lights were dimed by unseen servants, and they were told, "Rest now dear, your husband shall arrive soon."

"My husband?" They asked, confused, but there came no answer.

They laid awake, anxiously, until footsteps sounded on the floor.

"Who are you?" They demanded.

There was a soft chuckle, "Worry not, sweet (y/n), I am not here to hurt you. A husband should never have such intentions with his betrothed."

"Who are you?" They asked again, shuffling away as a weight settled on the other side of the bed.

"Your wife," she repeated, "I must admit, I didn't think of the consequence you might have faced upon hearing that dreadful fake of a prophecy. My dear, I am sorry, but could find no other way to take you away from the prying eyes of some."

Slowly, he retold the story, of how he had fallen in love with them, for the way that they had carried their burden, and when she had heard the plans of many, that they had to get them away.

"Alas, my sweet, you may not know my name, nor may you ever be permitted to see me, for it might tear us apart. For that, I am sorry."

There was a note of sadness in his voice, enough to tug at something in (y/n)s chest.

~~

He had away-ed at dawn, long before (y/n) awoke, leaving them to their thoughts of what had happened that night.

The following days seemed to follow the same pattern, until soon a week had passed, and then the weeks began to blend into months.

Back in the kingdom, in which (y/n) had lived, word had reached their sisters of what had happened, and each day they began to gather at the spire, calling for them, wishing they hadn't disappeared.

But, their husband warned them, that even though (y/n) could hear there voices, they must never call back, and the sisters may never be allowed into the valley.

For some time, (y/n) worked to comply, but hearing the despair in their sisters voice wore them down slowly, to the point where even when they were remind of how cruel the women could be, they did not care, and only wanted to see them again.

It got to a point, where one day, after their husband had left, they slowly crept from the villa, and dashing across the valley, called to Philza, begging him to take their sisters to the valley.

"Are you sure, (y/n)?" He asked.

"Yes, please, I'd do anything to see them again!" They begged.

Reluctantly, Philza's winds carried the sisters to the valley, where (y/n) embraced them, "My sisters! Don't weep! I'm safe!"

They hugged them back just as tightly, before letting go and looking around at the valley, and the villa.

"You live here?" The eldest asked.

"Yes, it is my husbands villa." They replied with a smile, "Come, I'll give you the tour, and then we may walk the gardens."

As the siblings moved from room to room, and (y/n) gave their tour, the sisters became increasingly jealous.

They had been married to old men, hardly holding onto their titles as king, why should their little sibling get all of this?

Soon, they were seated in the garden, nibbling on the food the servants had prepared.

"You certainly live in luxury (y/n)." The middle sister remarked.

They nodded, "Yes, I suppose I do."

"How does your husband afford all this? What does he do?" The elder asked.

"Well..." They trailed off, thinking, "I'm not sure."

"You mean you don't know?"

Slowly, (y/n) explained what had happened, and their husbands conditions of never being seen.

"Oh (y/n), honey," she pulled a sympathetic face, "He's clearly hiding something from you, and such a shame, you being pregnant with his child."

They glanced down at their stomach, they weren't showing that much, were they?

"It might turn out to be a monster, for all you know. You've never even seen him."

"No! He's not a monster!" They insited.

The sisters continued to build up the idea of their husband lying, or disguising himself, both in a subtle agreement to ruin everything (y/n) had.

"he's not!"

Frowning, one sister leaned forward and patted her hand, "Maybe, but you don't know. Just to be sure, when he has gone to sleep tonight, light a lantern, and look at him, just to be sure."

"I think you should go." (y/n)s voice was hard, and soon Philza was returning them to the kingdom from which they had came.

Night returned, and along with it, their husband.

She had fallen quickly to sleep, though (y/n) lay awake, their sisters voices filling their mind.

What if they were married to a monster?

Slowly, shakily, they rose, and finding a lamp, carefully lit it, before turning to their wife's side of the bed.

In the flickering lantern light, (y/n) beheld their husband for the first time, dark brown hair falling in curls about their head, and large feathered flings pooling at her back.

They gasped in amazement, turning to find a set of quiver and arrows at the foot of the bed, suddenly it made sense. The bow, the inhuman beauty- they had wed the god of desire, Eret.

Some how, all at once, they fell in love, toppling over the metaphorical cliff they had stood near for sometime, as the lamp suddenly felt to heavy for their hands.

Shaking, they moved to set it down, but not before a drop of oil spilled, landing on the gods shoulder.

In a cry of pain, she awoke, and looked up at (y/n) with wide eyes.

Without another word, they stood, gathered their things and began to leave, as they had come flying through the open windows.

"No! Please don't leave! I love you!" (y/n) cried, seizing his arm.

"You fool!" He roared, dragging them along with her, "I risked everything! I went I against mine own mother! She told me to punish you! and yet I fell in love! I created all this! All of this just to get you away from her prying eyes!

"Now the magic is fading you poor poor fool! She will find you now! You won't have much time! You- you listened to your sisters didn't you! They wanted this! I told you to not listen to them! You lie! Regard me as some beast to peak on in the night!" At last they shook (y/n) off, and they went tumbling to the ground.

"No love can exist with out trust."

With that they flew away, leaving (y/n)s cries for her to stay. And Leaving (y/n) alone, so terribly alone.

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Tag list: (send a request to be added, it will only be for this series)

@dreamslittlebitch

#mcyt x reader #eret x reader #the eret x reader #teddy 06 #teddy 06 writes

[writingshae]

Bring the House Down

biker!ares x madam!aphrodite

Summary: Ares and Aphrodite’s relationship has been tumultuous for centuries. Things had become more tense when he took to the road to lead a biker club while she stayed behind is Los Angeles to open up the most exclusive sex club with Dionysus. The time apart has always strained their relationship, but what happens when they find themselves reunited?

taglist: @persephone-rps for cowriting and @just-the-hiddles for test reading

words: 3.7K 

warnings: smut, smut, smut. 18+ please

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Aphrodite was livid. In the centuries that she had known Ares, she didn't believe that he still had the nerve to show such disrespect. Both her and Dionysus had been running the most successful and exclusive sex club in Los Angeles and she imagined that Ares would be present to celebrate her success, especially given that his men and women were present and in attendance. Granted, the two of them had been off and on for eons, but she felt that she deserved more respect than what was given. She managed to convince one of his gang members to disclose the God of War's location before taking her leave from the club. She barged into the motorcycle club and glared in every direction before she finally found him. "Why the fuck are you not at my club?"

For as long as Ares had been alive, he had never found somewhere he enjoyed more than the lively city of Los Angeles. The mortals living here were a bit unfriendly and rude, which made them the easiest targets for the God of War. He found pleasure in animosity and revelled in the chaos. It was only fitting that Ares started up a very notorious motorcycle gang. It gave him the opportunity to delegate a group of unruly men and women to act on his every whim. The Outlaws were highly respected and, in some aspects, held more authority than the police.

Ares was sitting at the bar in the Outlaws clubhouse, drowning his nagging thoughts about Aphrodite and her damn sex club she ran with Dionysus. There wasn’t enough whiskey in the world, though. Especially when the blonde Goddess of Love stormed in. He turned his head slowly to look at her, much too familiar with her outbursts after centuries of knowing each other.

“Why the fuck are you in my club?” He retorted with a scoff. “Tell me, gorgeous.. Why in Tartarus would I want to watch those mortals fawn over you? None of them are half the man that I am and I know you are more than aware of that.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course, the mortals of Los Angeles fawned over her, men and women alike. She was Aphrodite and she fed off of their adoration. The more they prayed and fawned over her, the more power she had. It was why it was a genius idea to set up shop with Dionysus. Everyone was looking for an escape in the alcoholic haze and the search for love. 

"I'm in your club because you're being a giant asshole by not coming to see me," Aphrodite retorted with a pout, trailing her fingers down his muscular arm. "Because they fawn over me but they can never have me. They can't handle me. As if I would bring myself down to their level and consort with them. Please. I'm not Zeus. But you... I was waiting for you. You insult me by not joining me in my temple."

It had been centuries of this little back and forth with Aphrodite. Just like the mortals, he was captivated by her beauty and he just had to have her, no matter what; however, unlike the mortals, he was a god who was able to somewhat resist that charm of hers. At least that’s what he constantly told himself. In all honesty, that was only true when she wasn’t around him because right now, he began to feel an overwhelming desire for Aphrodite. He turned in his stool quickly, grabbing ahold of the blonde’s wrist that was ghosting over his arm, his eyes moving up and down her body. She was always dressed to impressed and tonight was no exception. 

“Oh, my goddess,” he smirked softly, standing up. He gently but forcefully pushed her up against the bar counter, one of his hand resting on her hips. “I have a feeling I could make it up to you one way or another...” Ares’ smirk grew as his other hand moved up, tilting her head back as his mouth found its way to her neck.

Aphrodite was high maintenance. She could admit to that, but as a result, she demanded to be woo'd, which was not exactly the war god's style. He was rough and hard and their lovemaking always resulted in bruises. She enjoyed the rough sex, but she wanted more than that. Ares was just never one to commit, rather staying on the war path and building up his army. She leaned her head back, looking bored already with his antics. "You have a feeling? I have a feeling that you are all talk and no action," she prodded, poking holes at his ego. She knew that he would delight in her image. Who wouldn't? She was the most beautiful goddess and she had dressed in his favorite color lingerie and a skin-tight dress with a high slit.

Ares couldn’t help but to groan against her smooth skin. She always knew exactly how and when to push his buttons and tonight was no exception. Part of him wanted to push her away, tell her to go back to her precious sex club and Dionysus; however, he felt his desire for her increasing by the second. He wondered if she was using some of her powers on him and the thought angered him. Though, he figured he would channel that anger in a way that benefited them both. “What is it that you want, Goddess?” He inquired with a raise of his brow, eyes scanning up and down her perfect body donned in a tight little dress. “Do you want me to tell you how beautiful you are? How no mortal or goddess in Olympus could ever amount to your beauty? Hm?” His hands smoothed up and down her sides. “Do you not hear that enough from your followers? Or will you finally admit that my attention is what you desire most in the world?”

She could have easily used her powers on him; however, it took out the fun from their back and forth. Aphrodite enjoyed the games and enjoyed the wrath that she could draw from him just from making him second guess himself. She felt herself get wet just from hearing him sing her praises and her skin glowed from the power it gave her. “My followers, they see me and my beauty, but not like you can,” Aphrodite purred as she pressed her pelvis against his. “Your undivided attention is what I desire most in the world and I am no fool. I know that is one desire that will never be fulfilled.”

Ares couldn’t help but to smirk at the way her skin glowed from his compliments and he truly meant every word of it. Even after centuries and even after having different lovers, there was always something that drew the two of them towards one another. Take Los Angeles for example; Ares would never admit to it, but Aphrodite was part of the reason he went there. The warfare was just an added bonus. “That is very true,” his voice was deep with desire for the goddess. “Oh my gorgeous, breathtaking, absolutely radiant goddess... You have my undivided attention right now, don’t you?”

Aphrodite hummed with happiness as her fingers danced over the skin that she had access to. She loved seeing him after a war, all built up and strong. It made her even more proud when she could bring him to his knees and see how weak she could make him. "I do... but I always want more," she leaned in, lips barely grazing the stubble on his cheek. "Are you god enough to give me more?"

It was almost as if Ares was a completely different being when he was around Aphrodite. The affect she had on him without even using her powers was mind blowing and it didn’t take the war god to be reduced down to a man who was putty in her hands. His hands couldn’t help the way they explored her body until they slipped past the slit of her dress to grab her backside. Her words started a fire inside him and he let out a dry chuckle before smacking her bottom. “I think we both know that I am, Aphrodite,” he smirked widely, his hand soothing over her probably slightly sore ass cheek. “Tell me what it is you want me to do to you. And I will gladly oblige.”

She withdrew her hands from him, slowly unzipping the side of her dress until she could peel the dress off of her body, allowing the material to fall to the floor and reveal the blood red lingerie beneath. Only he was allowed to lay hands on her like he had. No one else was allowed to treat her quite as roughly, the action sending lightning through her. "Worship me..." she said, hoisting herself onto the bar counter and spreading her legs open for her. "Show me how much of a true god you are."

The corners of his lips curled up into his signature smirk and he reached a hand up to run it through his hair. Worshipping her would be easy. It was already something he consistently did, just not quite as openly or vocally as her followers. He licked at his lips as the dress fell to the floor of the clubhouse and he had to take a deep breath. The lingerie left little to the imagination and he was sure she coordinated the colors purposely. Ares stood in front of her, his large hands gripping at her porcelain thighs, spreading them a little more. “Your wish is my command, my beautiful goddess,” his smirk grew as he dipped his head down, peppering kissing up her legs teasingly, wanting to hear her beg for him.

Aphrodite spread her legs wider, loving that they had the motorcycle club all to themselves. Granted, she didn't mind having an audience, but she knew that since it was Ares, they would probably cause plenty of wreckage that evening. She ran her fingers through his hair, yanking on it when she began to grow impatient with him. After centuries of their lovemaking, he knew everything that drove her crazy. Yet they still had ways to keep things steamy between them. "What are you doing?" she groaned as she tugged on his hair again. "You're taking too long."

Ares knew that the rest of his gang were going to be out all night. They had an exceptionally satisfying run-in with a rival gang and needless to say, the men had a great time satisfying their urge for violence. Brought to them by the God of War himself. Ares felt more powerful today because of this feat as well. And he looked forward to wrecking the clubhouse with the goddess. He smirked against her thighs, letting out a chuckle. “Oh? I thought you enjoyed the foreplay, beautiful?” He raised a brow at her, “Whatever then. You asked for it.” Ares tore off her lacy underwear, discarding them quickly. The god wasted no time in swirling his tongue around her sensitive nun of nerves, lapping at it quickly.

As expensive as the underwear was, she would be fine with how he discarded her underwear. During all of their trysts, there was always some sort of casualty in her wardrobe. That was no matter. She had centuries' worth of wealth and the club had been more successful than she could have ever predicted. She could always buy more. Aphrodite pulled at his hair and moaned as he paid the most attention to her pearl. Mortals were selfish and cared only for their pleasure, but not Ares. While he certainly got his, he made sure that she was fully satisfied. "I enjoy foreplay, not teasing..." she murmured through her moans.

Ares didn’t think twice about the lingerie. He was sure he could make it up to her by a shopping trip if she were upset about it. The war god gripped at Aphrodite’s thighs as his tongue made expert work on her clit. With other lovers, Ares wasn’t nearly as attentive; however, this goddess brought out a side of him no one else had ever witnessed. “Fine, fine. No more teasing..” He hummed against her core, moving a hand up to press two fingers against her entrance and sliding them in easily. He began pumping them in and out, curling them up inside of her skillfully.

Aphrodite let out a purr of satisfaction as he filled her with rough fingers, her hips shifting to allow his fingers fill her to the hilt. She had missed this confidence and desire that no other mortal or even god could satisfy. Ares was hers no matter what they said about their relationship. They always came back to each other in spite of their wandering. “Yes, Ares.... so strong. I can feel your victory flow through you,” she moaned as she sensed the aura of a battle waged and won.

The sounds emitting from the goddess’ lips was like music to Ares’ ears. He couldn’t help but to smirk against her core, swirling his tongue around her pearl a few more times before his free hand moved up, tearing away her bra. “Mine. You’re all mine,” Ares grunted as he moved up, attaching his mouth to her breast now. He wasn’t a possessive god unless it came to Aphrodite. She was his one weakness and she absolutely knew it. His fingers continued pumping in and out of her, his speed increasing to help coax her first orgasm.

She was now completely naked on the bar counter while he was still dressed. It wasn't fair, but before she could say anything, Aphrodite could feel her orgasm wash over her. She threw her head back, a strong aura radiating out from the two of them as she hit her high. "My love, you are far too dressed for this occasion," she cooed, brushing her fingers through his hair and trailing them down his shoulders and arms.

Ares felt a strong sense of victory when he coaxed the goddess to her first release, a smirk playing upon his lips knowing that was just the first of many for the night. He pulled away from her core and licked at his lips and fingers, savoring the taste of Aphrodite. He hummed in approval, his smirk growing at her words. “Undress me then, my ethereal goddess,” he muttered as his lips found their way back to her skin. He couldn’t help himself when he was around her and it absolutely showed.

Aphrodite slid off the bar and stood in front of him, pushing his leather jacket off of his large shoulders. There were so many layers to deal with, but she took care removing each one, not removing her gaze from his even as she undressed him. It dragged on but finally, he was as bare as she was. Her slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, tugging on it lightly. “Have you been saving all of this for me?”

Ares couldn’t help but to smirk as the goddess removed his clothing one by one. It was painstakingly slow, but he knew if he had patience, it would certainly be worth it in the end. The god let out a groan as her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft and he couldn’t help but to buck his hips into her hand. “Of course I have.. No mortal woman is even worth a second glance. None of them are as gorgeous as you, my love.” he smirked, watching her aura grow at his words.

She was practically glowing from the love and attention and compliments that she was receiving from Ares. He was a smart god, knowing all the right things to say to make her happy. Now whether or not it was true had yet to be seen, but she didn’t care in the moment. Aphrodite continued to pump him despite the fact that he probably couldn’t get any harder. “Mine... all mine...” she purred, repeating the same words that he had used when he brought her to the edge the first time.

Ares was filled to the brim with desire and he was sure the Goddess of Love was more than aware of that. Despite having this little back and forth for centuries, he never found himself bored with Aphrodite. In fact, he was certain he had developed somewhat of a soft spot for her. Would he ever tell her that, though? Absolutely not. Not in a million years. Ares had a reputation to uphold. He licked at his lips harshly before picking the blonde up by her thighs, laying her down on a nearby table and spreading her legs. “Tell me how badly it is that you want me,” he smirked, rubbing the tip of his member up and down her wet folds.

Aphrodite and Ares were soulmates. That much was certain. In spite of the nature of their relationship, they always kept coming back together. No one could satisfy her the way that Ares could. But their respective life missions were the only things that kept them apart. "I want you and only you. See how I shine for you?" she teased, pulling her legs apart wider for him. Her hand snaked down the valley of her breasts over her pearl, teasing herself as he teased her.

Ares couldn’t help but to groan and lick his lips as he looked down at her. Aphrodite was truly a sight to be seen and the war god was grateful that he was the only one who got to see this side of her. Even if she had other lovers, Ares knew she didn’t put on quite a show for them like she did for him. “That’s what I like to hear,” her murmured before sliding inside of her without warning until he bottomed out, inhaling sharply at the feeling it provided him. He let her get used to his thickness before thrusting in and out of her relentlessly.

She couldn’t help herself when it came to Ares. Aphrodite moaned as soon as he filled her, wrapping her legs around his torso. As experienced as she was, his size still kept the feeling tight and full. She gripped at the table below her, knowing that they were going at it with their pace that the table would break below them. “Ares... yes, my love....”

The feeling he got with Aphrodite was similar to the one he got when he was at war. He feels powerful and in control - like the entire world was at his beck and call. His aura radiated around him in red hues and he pushed her slender legs back, his thrusts hitting her at a different angle now. His thrusts remained unrelenting as he bent down, his mouth attaching to her breasts, paying each of them equal attention.

The auras of the power that they drew from their coming together filled the entire room. Aphrodite didn't hold back the moans of pleasure as her nails raked back down his shoulders. She felt her body quickly build up to her next peak as he continued to rail into her. The newer angle was unrelenting and she couldn't hold back for anything.

Ares was a generous man when it came to pleasuring Aphrodite. Mostly because he found pleasure in it himself. He could tell she was about to reach her next orgasm. After centuries of being intimate with the goddess, he knew her body almost better than his own. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous...” The war god peppered his kisses up her neck, nibbling at her ear lobe. “Come for me... Show me who you belong to..”

Each touch of his was electric and she couldn't have enough of him. If they didn't have their own missions to accomplish, they could probably spend the rest of their lives tangled in each other. "You... I'm yours..." she moaned as she was pushed off to yet another orgasm. "Ares!"

There were no words to describe the amount of pride he felt as he coaxed Aphrodite to her next orgasm. It was a feeling similar to winning a war and perhaps that was what drew him to the goddess in the first place. She made him feel things that he otherwise would have never felt before. He loved hearing her scream his name in pleasure and he made sure to rub her pearl as she rode out her orgasm. He was getting close himself, but he wanted to ensure his goddess was completely satisfied.

Aphrodite wrapped her legs around him as he pushed her over the edge, another burst of energy released throughout the room, rattling the walls. The two of them drew immense power every time they came together and this was no exception. Her hands clung to him as though he would fall out of existence if she let go, her walls clenching around his hardness with each ripple.

The smirk that played on Ares’ lips was not one that Aphrodite was unfamiliar with. Throughout their relationship, they had gotten to know every nook and cranny of each other’s bodies and how they react to certain things. The god of war was overflowing with his crimson aura and he felt as if he could take on every god in all three kingdoms. This was a feeling only elicited from making love with the goddess of love herself. His thrusts were getting more and more reckless and soon he was withdrawing from her warm ness and finishing on her stomach.

Aphrodite felt his seed, warm on her stomach. He was playing it safe, which she couldn’t blame him for. They didn’t need to deal with another god in the world to compete with, even if it was their own child. She swiped a finger across her stomach and sucked on her finger. She savored his taste, knowing that this would not be the end of their love making for the evening. They would have plenty of time to rest and recover. Aphrodite sat up, kissing his neck. “Aren’t you glad I got angry and came all the way over here to chew your ass out?” She purred.

#ares | aphrodite #ares x aphrodite #lore olympus smut #greek gods smut #greek mythology smut

[timothypines]

The Fire of Achilles (Essay)

“He was like a flame himself. He glittered, drew eyes.” (pg. 43, Miller) Throughout the novel The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller and the epic poem The Iliad, Achilles is often compared to fire. In The Iliad he is referred to as “brilliant Achilles”—meaning to sparkle with light or luster; however, this comparison is not always positive, as the destructive side of fire is not forgotten when describing his unstoppable rage. The double-sided nature of fire perfectly encapsulates Achilles. The brightness and openness he emulates, much like the welcoming of a controlled fire, attracts the soldiers to him, while uncontrolled his rage can destroy armies like a forest fire pushed by rushing wind. But while most people can only see the war in him, the rage in him, he would never have gotten as far as he had without his gentle warmth.

The Song of Achilles shows much more of the softer side of Achilles’ flame, however, I do not think this makes Madeline Miller’s interpretation any more or less correct in the characterization of Achilles; rather, it deepens what is shown to us in The Iliad. In the early moments of the book (The Song of Achilles), it is shown that just as Achilles speaks his mind freely and absolutely, he expects the same from all others; this leads to him being overly trusting in many ways. “He said what he meant; he was puzzled if you did not. Some people might have mistaken this for simplicity. But is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?” (pg. 44, Miller). This is seen in The Iliad also, in his rage against Agamemnon when the king refused to return the priest’s daughter after the priest offered ransom. Most would never speak such things against a king, but he did not fear a thing, no, he was completely honest with Agamemnon, reminding the king that it was he who was needed, he who was asked to fight, “It wasn’t the Trojan spearmen who brought me here to fight. The Trojans never did me damage… we all followed you, to please you, to fight for you, to win your honor back from the Trojans.” (pg. 82, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). Yes, the dishonoring of him is what causes this great rage, but his honesty is part of that too. But even though this rage appears to come from unbreakable pride, I feel that it came not from a place of pride, but rather rage at Agamemnon for not being at all reasonable. While he keeps his honor close to him, he is not prideful of his abilities. “‘I will be the best warrior of my generation.’ It sounded like something a child would claim, in make-believe. But he said it as simply as if he were giving his name.” (pg. 38, Miller). In this sense, I agree with Miller’s interpretation of Achilles’ feeling in this moment and how even though his honor is important to him, he is not particularly prideful. This rage, I feel, comes more from a great feeling of unfairness, which Achilles seems to value more than anyone else in the army. Agamemnon made the mistake of not returning the priest’s daughter, out of his unyielding pride, and now he is unwilling to admit to his mistake and is instead punishing Achilles, who was the only one trying to end the great plague. I am in no way saying that Achilles’ actions to call the gods to punish the entire army so relentlessly were justified, however, his feelings of rage toward Agamemnon cannot be blamed on just himself, and therefore, neither can the punishment that falls upon the army.

It seems silly to try to talk about Achilles and leave out what he loves most. Now, in The Iliad, before we get to the aftermath of the death of Patroclus, it could be fair to assume that what Achilles loves most is his honor; damage to his honor is what caused him to call for the army’s suffering and destruction, the very army he had been fighting with for nine years. However, it is very clear that after the death of Patroclus that it is he whom he loves most. Once Patroclus has died, Achilles does not care to act honorably, he does not care if Agamemnon apologizes, he simply wants the person who took his love from him to suffer. Even his own life does not seem precious to him anymore. For the brief moments that Patroclus is shown in the epic, his character is made very clear. He appears to be kind, gentle, to carry himself with a strong grace. No one has ill-will towards him; he is a good man universally in the eyes of the kings and soldiers. This is what makes his death so impactful. This version of Patroclus that we see in The Iliad I feel is lacking when reading The Song of Achilles. In the epic, Patroclus can fight, he is quite good at it and it does not feel a surprise, “And then and there the Achaeans might have taken Troy, her towering gates toppling under Patroclus’ power heading the vanguard, storming on with his spear.” (pg. 435, Book 16: Patroclus Fights and Dies, Homer). The Patroclus we find in The Song of Achilles is awkward, unwilling to fight, even just before this moment at Troy, “The wheels gave a little lurch, and I staggered, my spears rattling. ‘Balance them,’ he told me. ‘It will be easier.’ Everyone waited as I awkwardly transferred one spear to my left hand, swiping my helmet askew as I did so.” (pg. 327, Miller) When reading The Iliad, I felt none of this from Patroclus. While it may have been surprising that he ended up at the wall of Troy, it certainly wasn’t surprising that he had fought and fought well.  I will say that both works made it heart-wrenching to see Patroclus slaughtering people, however, the epic held more integrity than the novel had. This can especially be seen when Patroclus and Hector meet on the battlefield. This is the interaction we get from The Iliad, “‘Hector! Now is your time to glory to the skies… now the victory is yours. A gift of the son of Cronus, Zeus—Apollo too—they brought me down with all their deathless ease, they are the ones who tore the armor off my back… You came third, and all you could do was finish off my life…” (pg. 440, Book 16: Patroclus Fights and Dies, Homer). And this is what we get from The Song of Achilles, “He is coming to kill me. Hector… He must live because his life, I think as I scrape backwards over the grass, is the final dam before Achilles’ own blood will flow. Desperately, I turn to the men around me and scrabble at their knees. Please, I croak. Please.” (pg. 334-335, Miller). Although Achilles’ stubbornness killed both versions of Patroclus, at least in The Iliad Patroclus died strong in himself, while the Patroclus from The Song of Achilles died a shell, lacking any self, just filled with thoughts of the fire that is Achilles.

One thing that no version of the story could ever take away is how much Achilles loves Patroclus (even if they decide to make them simply cousins for some reason). It is devastating to read Achilles discover that his lover is dead; this is not lacking in either version of the war. Something I especially enjoyed from The Song of Achilles is how much more deeply Miller built the relationship. While reading I could really tell that Patroclus was Achilles’ heart; he was the only one who was immune to Achilles’ rage and the only one who had a chance of getting through to him. “I had found a way through the endless corridors of his pride and fury. I would save the men; I would save him from himself.” (pg. 325, Miller). The building of their relationship before this moment where Patroclus begs for Achilles to fight made for a deeper understanding as to why, after so long, after so much suffering of the Achaeans, Achilles was willing to do something to help, no matter what that was. In The Iliad we are given a mention of how close they are and that is supposed to reason Achilles’ willingness to bend slightly. This deeper understanding of their relationship also makes Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death all the more painful to watch happen and his actions during the beginning of his morning also make more sense to the reader.

Achilles’ relationship with the war of Troy is somehow both extremely complicated and overly simple. It is complicated in terms of what he should bring into the war, what he owes Menelaus and Agamemnon, and how fate plays into it all. It is simple, however, when it comes to him having to perform the act of war itself. I feel that what Miller added to the story regarding this area really deepened and strengthened Achilles’ character; she really tried to show the struggle in Achilles when he was dealing with all of these complexities that came with the politics of the war, between both the mortals and gods. This is the war he was fated to have such a large part of; he was to kill the Trojan’s greatest hero, Hector. But fate isn’t the only thing forcing him to back and fight in the war against Troy, the Achaean kings he fights along side with also feel entitled to him and his abilities. In the end, however, Achilles does not feel attached to the war in actuality. “‘The Trojans never did me damage.’” (pg. 82, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). He doesn’t hold any rage toward the Trojans, that is until Hector kills Patroclus, and even then, his true rage is only toward Hector, it is only the magnitude of it that takes down the mountains of Trojans he slaughters. He is in a war he was expected to be in simply because of that fact, he was expected to fight. When discussing the war with Patroclus, Patroclus asks if he is afraid to fight, Achilles answers, “‘No… This is what I was born for.’” (pg. 220, Miller). So, if he was fated to be in the war, the Achaeans can only win if he fights, and every Greek kingdom expects him to fight, then what does he owe to his fellow Greeks? To Menelaus and Agamemnon? Simply put, in reality he owes them nothing, his father doesn’t even force him to go, telling him it’s his choice (The Song of Achilles), however,  the issue and complexity doesn’t come from what he actually owes the kings, but from what they believe he owes them. Here are two interactions between Achilles and Agamemnon from both works. “Agamemnon stepped forward. He opened his hands in a gesture of welcome and stood regally expectant, waiting for the bows, obeisance, and oaths of loyalty he was owed. It was Achilles’ place to kneel and offer them. He did not kneel. He did not call out a greeting to the great king, or incline his head or offer a gift. He did nothing but stand straight, chin proudly lifted, before them all. Agamemnon’s jaw tightened.” (pg. 194, Miller). “‘This soldier wants to tower over the armies, he wants to rule over all, to lord it over all, give out orders to every man in sight. Well, there’s one, I trust, who will never yield to him! What if the everlasting gods have made a spearman of him? Have they entitled him to hurl abuse at me?’

‘Yes!’—blazing Achilles broke in quickly— ‘What a worthless, burnt-out coward I’d be called if I would submit to you and all your orders, whatever you blurt out.’” (pg. 87, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). It doesn’t just matter what Achilles feels he owes Agamemnon because the king feels he is owed not only Achilles’ spear, but his total loyalty and an oath of such.

Despite this complexity with his motivations and responsibility to fight, when it comes to the fighting itself, it is as simple as breathing for him. As told in The Song of Achilles, “What he lived for were the charges, a cohort of men thundering towards him. There, amidst twenty stabbing swords he could finally, truly fight… With a fevered impossible grace he fought off ten, fifteen, twenty-five men. This, at last, is what I can really do.” (pg. 240, Miller). The war wasn’t truly a conflict for him, the true war was in the politics of men and gods; this notion agrees with what is shown in the epic.

While the men in power may not particularly like Achilles, the soldiers of the Achaean army do indeed, from the very beginning (at least in the interpretation that is The Song of Achilles). Here is the moment he introduces himself to the entire army, “‘I am Achilles, son of Peleus, god-born, best of the Greeks,’ he said. ‘I have come to bring you victory.’ A second startled silence, then the men roared their approval. Pride became us—heroes were never modest.” (pg. 194, Miller). Miller choosing to have the soldiers have these types of feelings towards Achilles makes sense. Up until the moment he declares he will no longer fight for the Achaeans, he is their hero, the one they look to and follow; in a society that values glory and heroes above almost all else, second only to the gods, he most-likely would have been viewed that way by the general public, those uninvolved in politics. An example of how deep this goes is shown just before the war begins, as the Phthians are sailing towards Troy’s beaches, “We stood at the prow with Phoinix and Automedon, watching the shore draw closer. Idly, Achilles tossed and caught his spear. The oarsmen had begun to set their strokes by it, the steady, repetitive slap of wood against his palm.” (pg. 212, Miller). Even subconsciously the men are following Achilles’ spear.

Achilles isn’t the only person for whom Miller develops a good relationship with the common soldiers—this  is done for Patroclus as well. I also agree with her decision to do this; it helps solidify the emotions the people feel toward Patroclus which are only mentioned and implied in The Iliad. Miller decided to make Patroclus a healer, “I developed a reputation, a standing in the camp. I was asked for, known for my quick hands and how little pain I caused… I began to surprise Achilles, calling out to these men as we walked through the camp. I was always gratified at how they would raise a hand in return, point to a scar that had healed over well.” (pg. 261, Miller). This use of his character makes sense in my mind when regarding the character shown to us in the epic; being a gentle and kind man. It also makes his motivations when trying to convince Achilles to fight all the more authentic, “All around me are men carrying fallen comrades, limping on makeshift crutches, or crawling through the sand, dragging broken limbs behind them. I know them—their torsos full of scars my ointments have packed and sealed.” (pg. 319, Miller). So, even though I do disapprove of Miller’s decision to make Patroclus seem too awkward and weak to fight, I cannot say her making a healer of Patroclus is without any merit. 

“What has Hector ever done to me?” This phrase is echoed throughout The Song of Achilles, creating a sort of foreshadowing sprinkled throughout the novel. This sentiment rings familiar from The Iliad where he expresses that he holds no feelings of hatred nor resentment towards the Trojans. The role that Hector plays in The Song of Achilles is slightly different than seen in the epic, though this is unsurprising as the novel is from the perspective of Patroclus and therefore cannot show much of Hector. Despite the lack of Hector, however, Miller included moments that are reminiscent of what we saw of Hector in The Iliad. Here is a domestic moment shared between Hector and his family when he returns from fighting, “shining Hector reached down for his son—but the boy recoiled, cringing against his nurse’s full breast, screaming out at the sight of his own father, terrified by the flashing bronze, the horsehair crest, the great ridge of the helmet nodding, bristling terror—so it struck his eyes. And his loving father laughed, his mother laughed as well, and glorious Hector, quickly lifting the helmet from his head, set it down on the ground, fiery in the sunlight, and raising his son he kissed him,” (pg. 211, Book 6: Hector Returns to Troy, Homer). Now here is a moment between Achilles and Patroclus when Achilles is coming back from battle, “I woke to his nose on mine, pressing insistently against me as I struggled from the webbing of my dreams. He smelled sharp and strange, and for a moment I was almost revolted at this creature that clung to me and shoved its face against mine. But then he sat back on his heels and was Achilles again.” (pg. 222, Miller). These are two moments of domesticity between warriors, great heroes, and the loved ones they returned to. In these moments war is more real, and it is harder to separate the men on the field and the men that return home. 

None the less, the phrase “what has Hector ever done to me?” is also meant to show Achilles’ active struggle against his fate that came with the war. He wants glory but is unwilling to make sacrifices to gain it. It is only once Hector does personally harm him by killing Patroclus that he does not care to avoid fate, in fact he does not care about glory or honor after this. In a way, it is Patroclus’ sacrifice that gives Achilles glory, which is ironic seeing as he does not fight for glory anymore, but revenge. This can be best seen in how he treats Hector’s body after he defeats him. “He rises at dawn to drag Hector’s body around the walls of the city for all of Troy to see. He does it again at midday, and again at evening. He does not see the Greeks begin to avert their eyes from him. He does not see the lips thinning in disapproval as he passes.” (pg. 346, Miller).  “The memories flooded over him, live tears flowing, and now he’d lie on his side, now flat on his back, now facedown again. At last he’d leap to his feet, wander in anguish, aimless along the surf, and dawn on dawn flaming over the sea and shore would find him pacing. Then he’d yoke his racing team to the chariot-harness, lash the corpse of Hector behind the car for dragging and haul him three times round the dead Patroclus’ tomb, and then he’d rest again in his tents and leave the body sprawled facedown in the dust. But Apollo pitied Hector—dead man though he was—and warded all corruption off from Hector’s corpse…” (pg. 589, Book 24: Achilles and Priam, Homer). In The Song of Achilles the Greeks, and gods, are not pleased. In The Iliad the gods see this as a disgrace. 

Where Achilles redeems himself greatly in The Iliad is not as significant in The Song of Achilles which left me extremely disappointed. The moment when Achilles is meant to show what a great character he is and how willing he is to forgive, even after such a significant loss, is in Book 24: Achilles and Priam. It is here when Priam and Achilles share a very vulnerable moment with each other in which they hold no contempt towards one another and the people they have taken from each other, but they cry, together, for the horrible losses they have endured in this long war. Miller makes this moment so much less vulnerable and emotional, making it feel significantly less important and character defining as it had been in the epic. Here is the moment as shared in The Iliad, “‘I put to my lips the hands of the man who killed my son.’ Those words stirred withing Achilles a deep desire to grieve for his own father. Taking the old man’s hand he gently moved him back. And overpowered by memory both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely for man-killing Hector, throbbing, crouching before Achilles’ feet as Achilles wept himself, now for his father, now for Patroclus once again, and their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.” (pg. 605, Book 24: Achilles and Priam, Homer). And this is the very same interaction as written in The Song of Achilles, “‘…it is worth my life, if there is a chance my son’s soul may be at rest.’ Achilles’ eyes fill; he looks away so the old man will not see.” (pg. 350, Miller). In Miller’s version there is not even a mention of the agreement that is come to in the epic that allows Priam to host a full funeral for Hector. This left Achilles feeling cold and unfeeling, which goes completely against his entire characterization in both the novel and the epic. For me, the watering down and diminishing of the conversation between Achilles and Priam was the biggest misstep in Miller’s novel and was a major disappointment especially since I felt she characterized Achilles so well for the majority of the novel.  

“His anger was incandescent, a fire under his skin.” (pg. 283, Miller) The comparing of Achilles to flame and fire strikes most true. He is never an emotionless man, never achieving a moment of utter stillness, instead he is always flickering under the surface. Even in times of calm he radiates warmth, and in times of great anger he rages in a great blaze. It is fire that is the perfect essence of Achilles. But this is what also makes him so controversial in the eyes of modern men. Some today still find themselves drawn to his wild flame and the brilliance of it, while others see the ash trails of his destruction and feel he is no good man, no hero. Achilles himself, I think, would agree with the sentiment that he isn’t a hero. In the end with Priam he felt shame for how he treated Hector’s body, his greatest love died because he couldn’t let go of his honor. In class people questioned why Achilles is remembered the hero and not Hector or Diomedes. I think Achilles achieved the fame he has because he is a good man who let his emotions drive him to do bad things, things looked down upon even in times of war. However, in the end, he redeems himself. He is a brilliant, shining character with intense emotions who manages to redeem himself—of course he has become the main hero of the story. Madeline Miller, in my opinion, did a very good job with the interpretation of his character, however, there were a few missteps with him and other things that were very important to his development. But despite these missteps, she has managed to bring Achilles’ light back into the lives of modern people, which is a wonderful thing. “As if he heard me, he smiled, and his face was like the sun.” (pg. 47, Miller)

#essay #literary #writing #greek mythology #achilles #the song of achilles #the iliad #literary critique #homer #madeleine miller

[thinkyoureholy]

Blessed With A Curse [1]

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Pairing : Kang Yeosang / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Future Smut, Greek God! AU

Words : 3.4k

Prologue. - Next Chapter.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-Y/N’s P. O. V-

I looked around frantically, my eyes looking for anyone I could trust but I found no one. They all looked at me scornfully, as if I was the dirt beneath their shoes. I begged for them to believe me but I could see they had already made up their minds. 

“I’m telling you the truth!” I shouted, turning on my heel quickly as I looked at them all, “I can swear to you here and now that nothing happened!”

Athena smirked at me, “And do you really think we’d believe you? We know exactly what kind of personality you have, it comes as no surprise really.”

“Fuck you, Athena. I know you’re just itching to have me thrown out so you can impress daddy with your new tricks,” I snapped, taking a step forward but the second I did lightning stuck the floor inches from my feet. 

I looked up at Zeus in shock, “Father...please believe me. I haven’t done anything! You know me! I would never!”

He narrowed his eyes at me, crossing his arms over his chest, “I don’t know you well enough it seems.”

A sharp piercing pain spread across my chest at those words, my eyes glazing over with unshed tears. No, please, you have to believe me! My eyes darted around from one face to the other until landing on her. The moment I met her eyes she looked away, my heart sinking the second she did. I then looked to the man next to her but he did the same, avoiding my gaze. 

“Even you two?” I asked, my voice strained as I tried to keep it from breaking. 

“It’s just-“

“We saw you.” Apollo interrupted his twin sister Artemis, finishing her, stepping in front of her as if to protect her from my gaze. 

“You saw me? You saw what exactly!?” I growled, waiting for a response but they refused to give me one. 

I then moved my gaze to Hephaestus, “You can’t tell me you believe any of this do you?”

“There are a lot of thing you are capable of and fucking my wife is one of them.” He spat out. 

“You have committed adultery and that is unforgivable.” Hera, my mother announced, drawing my gaze to her. 

I balled my hands up into fists, my nails digging harshly into the palms of my hands, knuckles turning white, “Unforgivable? Really? My asshole of a father has slept with countless other women, hell hardly any of us share the same mother but you’re saying what you’re all accusing me of doing is unforgivable? Bullshit.”

“Enough!” Zeus roared as he rose from his seat, “I have decided your punishment.”

I waited anxiously to hear what the punishment he thinks is just for a crime of this magnitude, a crime I didn’t commit. The stern and unforgiving look he cast upon me gave me little hope for any kind of leniency.

“You are banished from Olympus.”

My face paled at his words, my heart coming to a stop in my chest for a few seconds too long. The fear of being banished soon turned into rage, an anger so strong that I could barely control myself consumed my entire body. I felt my body tremble with the anger I was feeling, about to explode any second now.

. . . . . .

I woke up with a start, gasping loudly for air as I sat up in bed. My eyes darted around all over the place, as if looking for something but I didn’t know what. I must’ve woken up my father in the other room as he burst in, looking as frantic as I felt, a sword in his hands. 

“What, what is it!? What happened!?” He shouted, looking around once more before his eyes landed on me. 

I sighed heavily, bringing my knees up to my chest as I ran my fingers through my hair, “Nothing. Nothing happened. I just had a bad dream. I’m fine, papa.”

He took a moment to finally relax, the tension in his shoulders disappearing as he let out a sigh that mirrored mine, “Is it the same one?”

I looked away, hugging my knees closer to my body. Ever since I can remember I’ve had the same dream. Night after night it was always the same. I stood in the middle of what looked like a huge castle, it’s walls so high I couldn’t even see the end of it. The walls were a pristine white along with the columns that were in the room, separated by a few feet in between. Twelve chairs, all decorated differently, none the same were in a crescent moon shape in the middle of the room. I would always be arguing, pleading for my life to people I had never even since. I begged but they never listened. It always ended the same way. I was filled by this overwhelming anger that threatened to consume me but before anything happened I woke up drenched in sweat and gasping for air, my heart beating at a million miles per second. 

“Y/N…” My father spoke in a soft tone, putting his sword down against the wall and coming over to sit beside me. 

He placed an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face into his shoulder. This dream always left me feeling so empty inside, like my heart had been gouged out with the rustiest spoon you could find. I wanted to know what it all meant but I was never able to figure it out. I mean it just didn’t make sense. I have never seen those people before but every time I had that dream their faces and voices were always the same, as if I was reliving some type of memory but that can’t be possible. Not only that but every time I spoke in the dream the voice was never mine, it was deep, husky, and unfamiliar but familiar at the same time, like I knew him or at least heard his voice before.

“This is all his doing…” My father mumbled under his breath, squeezing me tighter in his hold.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just some nonsense your old man is thinking about, don’t pay it any mind,” He said quickly, avoiding my questioning eyes as he evaded the subject. He gave me a tight lipped smile, changing the subject, “Why don’t we start the day early today? The sun is going to rise in a few hours. If we get the morning chores done ahead of time you’ll be able to have a few hours to yourself to relax before we open.”

I smiled back at him, letting what he said earlier go as I nodded. He leaned in and placed another kiss on my forehead before he let me go, rising to his feet. He grabbed his sword and left my room, leaving me along with my thoughts.

-

“Papa I’m heading out! I’ll be back in a bit!” I shouted to my father who was organizing some things at the back of the shop.

“Okay! Be careful!” He shouted back.

And with that I left. It didn’t take long for me to get to my destination and once I was there I began my training. I don’t know why nor do I care but ever since I’ve been able to walk I’ve had this urge to fight. There was something in me that kept me from being still for too long. I never fought with anyone but that’s not to say I never had the urge to do so. There have been countless times when I found myself having to choose to fight or take flight and though I wanted to fight, to protect those that needed protecting I always found myself fleeing. I had come close to picking up a sword to fight but the second I touched the handle of the sword my vision went white and a voice rang out in my head, the words always the same. The voice always warned me to never pick up a sword, a shield, a spear, or even a bow and arrow. The voice was so frightening that I listened to it every time until I stopped trying to involve myself in things where I needed to even think about fighting in the first place. But the urge was still there so I did the next best thing, I trained to fight on my own. I found that when I did that the urge to fight would dwindle and I wouldn’t have to hear that voice in my head the second I did. It was the best compromise I could find.

I looked over at the lone tree that stood a few feet from the cliff’s edge, the roots it dug deeply into the ground keeping it from falling into the sea below. I glanced down quickly at the bag I had brought over months ago with all kinds of weapons. I had buried it in a secure place and used what was in it whenever I pleased. I can’t quite understand why but the moment I touched one of the weapons I felt stronger, more in control of my body than when I didn't have a weapon in hand. I bent down and picked up a few of the daggers, the blades fitting in the palm of my hands perfectly.

“Ah...I must be crazy…” I breathed out, a wide grin spreading across my face as I brought my arm up before throwing the dagger, watching the blade embed itself into the trunk of the tree, “To think I enjoy things like this…” I chuckled softly before throwing another, then another, a surge of energy going through me. I felt like I could run for miles without stopping on this type of energy, it was exhilarating. I picked up my twin swords, they were a bit shorter than the swords used by the soldiers of the kingdom but that was the whole point. They were made so they were easier to carry and hide if I needed to. They were so light I was able to use both at the same time and two swords were always better than one. I turned my wrists, twirling the swords in my hands with ease. I raised them slowly to start training with them but before I could even get one swing in it started drizzling. 

I looked up to the sky in confusion, wondering where the rain was coming from when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky a few minutes ago. Seconds into my staring up into the sky aimlessly the rain got harder, the small drizzling now turning into a full on storm. I sighed heavily, sheathing my blades and secured them behind my back. Seeing that they were secured I hurried over to the daggers that were still embedded in the trunk of the tree. I pulled one out with ease but the second one wouldn’t budge so easily. I pulled as hard as I could but I couldn’t get it out, it felt like it was glued in there. I frowned, grabbing the handle of the dagger with both hands and pulled but it didn’t budge. I grit my teeth and grabbed it as tightly as I could, planting my foot against the trunk and pulled. With the amount of force the blade finally came out but since I was pushing against the tree with so much force I was sent stumbling back, falling back into the now muddy ground. And as I fell to the floor I heard the skies above roar with thunder, lightning striking the ground mere inches from my face. I stared at the ground in shock, my heart beating loudly in my ears, the sound of my heart drowning out the sound of the rain. I scrambled away from the spot the lightning had stuck, my back hitting the tree. 

I didn’t know how long I stayed there just staring at the spot the lightning had stricken but it couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, another crack of thunder bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up, frightened that I’d be hit by this next bolt of lightning. I pushed myself away from the tree, stumbling a bit as I looked up towards the sky, my eyes growing wide as bright light shined right above me. But before I could be struck I felt something warm envelope my body, sending me to the floor. I let out a small scream and shut my eyes when the lightning struck the spot I had just been standing in.

“Fucking asshole.” A deep voice growled out above me.

I opened my eyes at the sound of his voice, staring up at the man that was now shielding me from the rain. I stared at him wide eyed, unable to look away from his perfectly sculpted face. He was...gorgeous, he could give any statue any of these artists tried to pass off as the perfect human a run for their money. I’ve seen good looking people before but never like him. He had high cheekbones but they weren’t too high that they took away from the rest of his face. His eyes were that perfect almond shape, eyebrows perfectly shaped and his jawline was so sharp I’m betting I could cut my finger on it. Just as I was losing myself he finally met my gaze, a flush of color rising to my cheeks when his eyes met mine. 

“What the hell are you doing out in the middle of a storm? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Who the hell just stands around waiting to be hit by lightning? Do you have nothing going on in that head of yours or are you just that stupid?” He scolded in a harsh tone, a frown adorning his face.

Yeah, I take everything I said about him being gorgeous back. With a scoff and a roll of my eyes I pushed at his chest roughly, shoving him off of me. He landed on his back next to me with a thud. I sat up and began to rise to my feet when he spoke again.

“What? Cat got your tongue??” He asked, his tone still firm and maybe even harsher than before.

I ignored him and got to my feet, shaking the mud off of me and was about to head back home but I was only able to take a few steps away from him when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. Without warning he began dragging me with him, I don't know where but I didn’t want to find out.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Let go of me!” I yelled over the rain, struggling against his grip but he was too strong.

I would’ve used the swords I still had strapped on my back but I didn’t really want to have to hear that voice again at this moment. So I kept struggling but no matter how much I struggled his grip wouldn’t let up. He finally let me go when he brought me into a nearby cave, dragging me out of the storm.

“Oh so you can talk, great. Maybe your next words will be ones of gratitude, I did just save your life.” He said in a cocky tone, ruffling his hair with his hand, droplets of water falling to the ground.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” I shot back, taking a step away from him, wanting to make a run for it.

“No, but I gave it to you anyway and help with or without being asked for should be rewarded with a word of thanks.” He said as if lecturing me. 

I stared at him, mouth hanging agape, “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

He seemed stunned by my question, a shadow falling over his eyes as he averted his gaze, “Nobody important.”

Now I was confused. First this man comes out of nowhere in the middle of a storm to save my life only to reprimand me for no good reason. Then he drags me to a nearby cave that I didn’t even know was here and talks to me as if he’s known me my whole life when I barely just met him. Just what is this guy’s deal? I narrowed my eyes and studied his face once more, wondering if I actually did know him. I huffed out a breath, combing back the wet strands of hair that fell over my face. I was grateful for his help but his attitude made me not want to voice my gratitude. So with that I moved to leave the cave and head home, my father must be worried by now. I took one step out of the cave when I felt him grab my hand again. 

I pulled my hand away and pushed him back, my swords now in hand as I faced him, “Touch me again and I’ll cut both your hands off.” I threatened, pointing the blades at him but the second I did my vision went white. 

I groaned at hearing the voice in my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I shook my head to rid myself of the annoying voice that now seemed more distorted than I remembered.

‘You must never fight.’

I stumbled back, slipping on the mud but I managed to stay on my feet. The ringing was getting to be too much, the pain now becoming unbearable. I dropped a sword to bring a hand up to the side of my head, as if doing that would somehow alleviate the pain but it did absolutely nothing.

“Am I not even allowed...to defend myself?” I asked in a choked whisper, knowing the voice wouldn’t respond with an answer to my question, only repeating what I’ve heard so many times before.

‘Never pick up a sword, a shield, a spear, nor a bow and arrow to harm another.’

I cursed, dropping the other sword and cradled my head with both hands as I sank to my knees. The moment I did that the ringing stopped, my vision returning to me. 

-Yeosang’s P.O.V-

I watched as she fell forward, all the strength seeming to leave her body. I took a tentative step towards her, hearing the skies rumble with thunder the second I did. I clenched my hands at my sides, my nails digging into the palms of my hands and drawing blood. The bastard was trying to kill her and now he’s pissed I’m with her in here, just what the fuck is going on in that head of his?

“Ah, fuck it.” I cursed under my breath and quickly went over to her.

I turned her onto her back, relieved to see that she was only unconscious. Without wasting another second I scooped her up into my arms, carrying her deeper into the cave before setting her back down, leaning her back against the wall of the cave. I crouched down in front of her, staring at her face with what others would probably describe as a look mixed with affection and concern. I let out a sigh, reaching out to gently brush the back of my fingers against her cheek.

“I had planned to stay out of your sight but he’s forced my hand. I refuse to let you end up like the others…” I muttered, pulling my hand back to my side as I continued to watch her as she slept soundlessly, “What I did for you was the only good thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. If Zeus wants to use you to get to me then he has another thing coming. I swear to you I will protect you with everything I have, you have my word, as the God of War known as Ares. So long as I live you have my word no harm will come to you. Ever. If anyone dares to go against you I will wreck havoc and chaos upon this world like no one has ever seen before. And that is no mere threat, but a promise.”

I growled out that last part looking up, glaring through the roof of the cave and towards the sky, directing it at the bastard I had the misfortune of calling my father.  

#ateez ff #ateez fluff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fanfiction #ateez kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang ff #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang angst #kang yeosang fanfiction #kang yeosang scenarios #kang yeosang #yeosang ff #yeosang fluff #yeosang fanfic #yeosang angst #yeosang smut #yeosang fanfiction #alternate universe #greek god au

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

soulmate!tom holland au

a/n; ugh hi. i’m so sorry this took so long to get up. there’s been a lot shit going on with my college moving online and my anxiety going berserk and yeah. also once i wrote this it didn’t turn out as well as i wanted it too so i didn’t really want to post it but i hyped it up so...i’m just going to post it. it’s not the best but...enjoy !

warnings; mentions of abuse in one scene, mistakes here and there

word count; 2.3k

No one knows how it started. 

Some believe the original Greek myth; that Zeus was terrified of the power the original human form had and split them in two, forced to live the rest of their lives searching the world for their other half. 

Others believe whatever their chosen religion preaches; that God wants them to stay monogamous with one person and never stray to the Devil. That the Hindu Gods say that good dharma follows meeting your chosen one. 

Few don’t believe anything at all. They say soulmates are a load of crap. That the words etched on our skin from the moment we’re born means nothing. That the Universe can’t decide who we love, we choose. 

You were one of these people. 

At first you loved the thought of soulmates. That someone out there was destined for you, would always love you no matter how many times you trip over your own feet or spill a drink down the front of you. Someone out there was ready to cuddle you after a depressive episode or help you breathe through the anxiety attacks. It was magical to think about. 

But years passed, first meetings with numerous people came and went. And as your friends found their loves, as you watched your parents grow old and happy together, as you gave your sister the ring to go on her wife’s finger, as everyone found someone while your words remained black, you began to lose hope. 

Until you met him. Him with the stormy blue eyes and caramel hair. Him with the charming smile and tan skin. Him with the nice lips and funny personality. You fell almost as soon as you met. Your words didn’t turn gold, they did burn and send a shock through your system. But your heart skipped a beat. Your hands shook and your stomach flipped, and that’s all you needed to say yes to a date. And then another, and another, and another until you were moved in with him and smiling every day from his texts. 

It was great. It was nice. It was as magical as you thought being with your actual soulmate would be. You forgot about the words on your arm, about the stories of what being with your soulmate feels like and what being with someone not can do to your body. You were in love. 

It was perfect. 

Until it wasn’t. 

-

-

His words were in place that someone had to really look in order to see them. 

And he’d never let anyone look. 

As a child it was fine, no one cared about his words other than his family. 

As a teen, after The Impossible after In the Heart of the Sea, it changed. He had to actively make sure no one saw. It wasn’t that hard. Pants all the time, long swim trunks, no nudity scenes, which, was a given since he was a kid. 

For years Tom did good at hiding the silly words. Silly because who says “I think i’m going to pass out” when they first meet someone? He did good. 

Until he didn’t. 

Until Harrison scared him when he was leaving the bathroom in the middle of the night in just his boxers. Until Harrison decided to post the video and Tom let him, not thinking. Until the video went viral and it all went to shit. 

The only good thing was that not the whole sentence went public. Just the first three words. “I think i’m -” and that's it. 

But it was enough. 

After that Tom had random people coming up to him daily to yell at him sentences starting with “I think i’m -”. Signings and red carpet events were never the same. Casual golfing outings with his dad and brothers became crowded and unfun. One time someone did get it right. They locked eyes with him at a red carpet event, screamed it in his face, and smiled. But he felt nothing. There was panic at first. An ‘oh shit is this it?’ But his arm felt fine. His body felt fine...as fine as it could when faced with a bunch of screaming fans and cameras in his face...but fine nonetheless. 

Tom always loved the idea of a soulmate. Of someone being there for him to help run lines, to walk down carpets with him and support him through all his endeavors. 

But now he’s convinced his one and only soulmate is his dog. 

-

-

“I’m going to be late for work David. You have to let me go.” You try not to let your voice shake as the grip on your arm tightens. The bruise there from the last time he prevented you from leaving is still fresh and you know by the time you get to work it’ll be a vibrant purple. 

“Why do you even stay at that place anyway? How many times have I told you that I can provide for you! You don’t need to go an whore yourself out every night.” He says it with such (fake) compassion you’d think he really meant it. But then he goes ahead and says that word and you’re reminded of the type of person he truly is.

“I’m a waitress not a stripper. I just take orders and try not to drop trays. David, seriously, I have to go.” You yank your hand away as hard as you can and hold it to your chest. He scoffs out a demeaning laugh, one that shakes you to your core and let’s you know you fucked up. You don’t even see, more feel it, as his hand makes a sharp contact with the side of your head. 

“Don’t. Talk to me like I’m some dimwit. I know what you do at that place. You flash a little breast, bend over just a little too far, you’d do anything to get a tip. I wouldn’t be surprised if you went out to the alley on your breaks.” He sneers and laughs and pushes your head down when you try to stand up. “Look at this. You’re in your element aren’t you? On your knees begging for more.” 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I - I don’t - I don’t do -” Your head is starting to pound. His laughing became distorted. Where did he hit you? You’re on your ass in the next second, his smug face getting ready to spit at you.

“Get out of my house bitch.” And you do as fast as you can. 

-

-

“Haz, mate, can’t we just get takeaway again? I really don’t feel like going out.” Tom huffs as Harrison throws him his jean jacket. 

“You never feel like going out anymore. So that’s why we’re doing this. It’s three blocks down the road mate so get up off your arse and let’s go.” It’s true. Since returning from his most recent press tour Tom decided to take a break from everything, acting, press, social media, going out into the public eye; anything to avoid getting asked about his soulmark or getting another fake soulmark declaration. It’s easier to be a hermit than to fake a smile and change the subject. 

“Tom. Please. I’ll pay okay. I’ll even let you get dessert just, anything to get you outside.” The pain is obvious in Harrison's voice and it hits Tom to his core. 

“Haz, you know i’m not mad at you. I never was. I'm just...fine. Let’s go.” Harrison smiles at his best friend and they leave his apartment in search for food. 

-

-

“Y/N darling, are you okay? You don’t look too well.” God bless your boss for being one of the rarer ones who have a heart. 

“Yeah Michelle I’m fine. I just hit my head getting out of the car.” The lies come so easy now you almost believe them yourself. 

“Are you sure, love? I can call in someone to cover.” You shake your head no, but that was a mistake, it makes the room spin too much and the music playing overhead go weird. 

“I’m fine. I gotta clock in.” You leave Michelle standing in her office and hope she knows to leave well enough alone. You got this. You’ve worked through a concussion before. You got this. 

-

-

You don’t have this. 

An hour into your shift the room is constantly shifting and your head is pounding and when did Michelle turn up the music the max? Water. Some water will help, yeah. 

“Y/N! Table four!” God why does everyone have to be so damn loud. 

“Yep.” You think you say. You aren’t entirely sure. You take a few deep breaths before grabbing your notepad and heading to table four. It’s two boys around your age and the one looks like he’d love to be anywhere but here. One more deep breath and - oh - oh no.

“I think I’m going to pass out.” You're too busy falling to the ground to feel the burning on your arm. 

-

-

“This place is a bit fancy Harrison, aren’t we underdressed? Maybe we should go back home.” Tom goes to turn but hands on his shoulders stop him and guide him inside. Eh, worth a shot.

“C’mon man, the food is great. Better than the cheap chinese and pizza you’ve been eating the past two weeks.” 

“Hey, you promised you wouldn’t judge my eating habits.” They laugh a bit as a hostess leads them to their table. They thank her and begin to look at the menus in a companionable silence. It’s a few minutes before Tom sees someone approaching from the corner of his eye. He looks up, and his heart skips a beat.. 

You’re beautiful. From your eyes to your lips to the way your hands wrap around the notepad. You’re beautiful. But...you’re sick. Yeah, that’s definitely sweat on your brow and deep breathing you’re doing. 

The words are out before he can stop them. 

“Are you okay love?” And then his heart really does stop. 

“I think I’m going to pass out.” You fall to the ground in a lump and people around you jump into action. Tom is one of them. His burning thigh telling him he has to stay by you no matter what. He slaps Harrisons’ hand away as he tells him to back up. He yells for someone to call for help. He keeps his fingers on your pulse point just to make sure. Just to make sure he doesn’t lose his soulmate before he gets a chance to know them. He didn’t go through all those fake declarations and over-interested reporters and consoling family members to lose you now, the moment you meet. 

“Sir, you need to back up. Sir, sir. Back. Up. You can ride with us but you need to let us get to them. Please.” It physically pains Tom to back away. To see you be loaded on a gurney like a sack of potatoes. But he’s allowed in the ambulance. He’s allowed to hold your hand and whisper in your ear and pray to any God in head that you’re fine. Because you are. 

You have to be. 

-

-

It’s too bright when you wake up. Too bright and too cold, so you know you’re not home. The beeping next to you is also a definite giveaway. You open your eyes slowly, blinking away the slight pain in your head and letting your eyes adjust. It’s a hospital room. You’re in a hospital room with an IV in your arm and thin blankets covering your body and a pulse oximeter on your right hand. And on your other hand is...another hand? That’s not Davids? 

“You’re up. Oh God you’re up. We gotta - we gotta page a nurse. Nurse!” Who the hell is this dude and why is he yelling so goddamn loud? 

“Oh shit love i’m sorry. I - you’re right this is - okay, introductions - um, I’m -” The door opening cuts him off and your eyes divert from his, admentaly attractive face to a doctor and a nurse carrying a new IV bag. 

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N. Good to see you’re awake. Do you know what happened?” the doctor asks. She comes over to your right side and begins to shine a pen light in your eyes. . 

“Um. I passed out.” 

“Yeah. You had a mild concussion which usually doesn’t cause such a drastic reaction but combined with it’s starting location and your dehydration, the passing out occurred. Luckily though, I predict a speedy recovery with the IV fluids and rest.”  She’s smiling softly while she goes along and writes on your chart. 

“Um. I just - I just hit my head getting out of the car. It was a little bump, I swear. How could it cause a mild concussion?” This is not good. Not good at all. David is going to walk in any moment and you’ve had this doctor before. You know she’s going to push for more conversations, again. A tightness forms in your chest and you’re ready for the panic attack, but then it...stops? Suddenly a feeling of calm and warmth spreads over you. That never happens. It spreads from your chest down to your fingertips and all the way to the tips of your toes. Your arm is burning, a soft sort of fire that makes you glance at it and gasp. There, the words that you thought would permanently be black are a glittery gold. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” the doctor asks, but all you can do is nod silently. “Okay, well, we’ve changed your IV and put some painkillers next to your water pitcher. We’ll be back to check on you in a bit, okay darling?” You nod again, your eyes not leaving the soulmark. 

“Um. So yeah. I see, you see it.” The guy next to you says. You look over at him, at his honey brown eyes and soft smile that forms a little dimple on the one side. It’s cute. 

“Soulmate. You - you’re my -” A smile involuntarily comes over your face, a real smile that feels like it won’t leave anytime soon.

“Um, heh, yeah. I’m Tom.” That’s a nice name. 

-

-

You’re smiling. You’re smiling and it’s beautiful and Tom can’t look away. 

“Y/N,” you say. And yeah, yeah you’re definitely his soulmate.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #soulmate!tom au #soulmate!au #soulmate!tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Intermission I: Keeping Up With the Olympians

We met up at a coffee shop in a little known place where few have entered: Idaho. I had arrived via one of my private helicopters. Angelos, one of my private chauffeurs landed the helicopter in the parking lot of a hardware store. According to my calculations, which I had made none, I was right across the street from the coffee shop.

“Most appreciated, my dear daughter,” I thanked Angelos, as I made it a habit to show gratitude to anyone I associated with.

“Not your daughter, but not a problem,” Angelos smiled and I could tell she gave me a wink even through her pitch-dark sunglasses. Her short, brown hair was slicked back, and she always made sure to wear a tuxedo when flying me first-class anywhere I wanted to go. I leaned over and kissed her hand.

“Please wait for me while I pick up my other daughter,” I beseeched her, then strolled off to the coffee shop. Traffic be damned, I strutted my stuff and caused a pile-up. Just as a refined lady should, of course. If beauty didn’t cause a calamity, what use was there for it?

Our meeting place was but a humble coffee shop, some kitsch place called Espresso Self.

I gave a fanciful chuckle as I wiped my shoes against the mat outside the entrance, then I stepped inside to the arid atmosphere of such a chic location: everyone looked to be in disco outfits, some clown costumes, others wore scuba gear. However, one person who stood out among them all was one seated at a table in the far back: a young woman in a violet hoodie with the hood up. She had short, blonde hair and...wait, blonde?

I must bring this up at once.

As I approached her, I slammed my hands down at the table and leaned over.

“What happened to your precious green?!” I demanded, the ferocity in full force.

Rather than shocked or scared out of her seat, she gave me a dull expression, then took a sip from her cup of coffee.

“I washed out the dye,” she stated, deadpan.

“I don’t approve,” I gave a disgusted look.

“Bite me.”

At first, I was shocked by such a disrespectful remark. But then I looked deep within her eyes and saw a raging fire which I hadn’t seen before. Well, it might not have been a literal raging fire, it may have been a reflection of something behind me that was orange. Always hard to tell with those things.

“You’ve taken a life, haven’t you?” I implored, no longer a voice of disgust, but instead discovery.

“Yes, and I hated it.”

“Eh. It’s an acquired taste. But never mind that, what are you drinking?” I pointed to her cup.

“Triple-shot espresso, I reckon. Also an acquired taste, and one which I have not acquired.”

“So why are you drinking it, then?”

She shrugged.

“I told the barista: ‘just fuck me up’, so she did.”

Ah, easy mistake to make. I’ve been there once or twice.

“Will you be all right?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Probably. Just gonna be a little jittery, is all,” she spied the room and shifted her gaze from side to side, “can we get this show on the road, or what?”

“Eager to put your detective hat on?” I pondered and turned to a toothy grin, the excitement of seeing her in a deerstalker was quite the fantasy.

“More or less. I’m going to want the details so I know what I’m working with. Once this is all settled, you’ll hold up your end, yes?”

Ugh, that was the problem with the younger folks: they didn’t know that in order to have a good mystery, you needed to drag things out as long as possible.

“Of course, of course, dear! But once we’re at my place, yes?” I clapped my hands.

She let out a dramatic sigh, then got up and tossed her drink in the trash.

“I just know I’m going to have a heart attack later,” she grumbled, then headed out the door.

“Wait up! So impatient!” I chased after her. Such a shame, too: I never got the chance to order anything.

She was much more cheery over the phone. What gives? Hell, I’d say we were on opposite ends of the mood axis: I was in a slump and she seemed cheerful as a beaver in a lumberyard. Of course, once she knew the details of my predicament, she too would be in a foul mood. Well...if she wasn’t already. No, I didn’t want to make her mood foul!

I remember calling her, distraught and in tatters.

“Demetria! I need your help!” I bawled into the phone.

“Would you look at that? Perfect timing. Been a while, hasn’t it, Hera?” She rasped but I could feel the joy foam out from her mouth.

“Yes it has, and I do apologize! I’m sure you’ve had countless sleepless nights just thinking about me! But fret no more, I am here now and I need you to come over! It’s an urgent matter!”

“Oh my. You want me to come over? Gee, I’d love to do that but I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t have...how do I put it...the coin,” she spoke with a sly rascal voice which would have made the sly rascal in me proud. However, money should not have been an issue for someone of her caliber. Well...any old fool would have thought it was about money, but not me, no: I knew better.

“Never mind the ferryman! I’ll come get you, myself! Just tell me the place and I’ll be over in a heartbeat! Maybe two heartbeats, depending on traffic!”

“Wait. You’ll come get me? Well this changes everything. Okay. Hold on. Slow down. I’ll meet you in Caldwell, Idaho. You can probably find me at a coffee shop. Thanks so much,. Bye.”

I knew of no such place (Idaho. Or Caldwell, Idaho. Coffee shops, I have heard of), but that didn’t matter in the name of familial love. I’d do anything for a daughter of mine.

It didn’t take long for Angelos to drop us off at my place. As soon as we landed, Demetria and I began to walk up to the musical steps which lead to the paradise of Olympia: my house.

“You sounded much more cheerful on the phone,” I remarked, glancing off to the side so she could get my good side. Of course, all of my sides were good, even the sides of me that weren’t good.

“Well yeah. Over the phone I was all eager to get back to Olympia, but then once I sat at the coffee shop, I got to thinking about the ordeal I had to go through last time with you and then I was like ‘just endure it, Demetria. Remember your goal.’ But I just know I ought to prepare for trouble, and hell, make it double.”

“Yes, my dear, these are troubled times indeed,” I grabbed a handful of skittles from out of my pocket and shoved them into my mouth. “Troubled times.”

Once inside, I lit a few candles, as in my misery, I had trouble flicking light switches.

“Just as gloomy as I remembered it,” Demetria commented as she looked around.

“I know, right? Absolute beauty, right here!” I showed off my collection of vintage plates, but in her straightforward fiery eyes, she paid no mind.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Okay, but once you hear me out, you might shed a few tears, so get ready,” I drew in a deep breath, “Zeus has gone missing!”

Rather than weep, Demetria just let out a yawn.

“So you want me to find him?”

“Yes! I’m willing to pay you anything as a reward! Money is no object!”

She nodded, then let her eyes wander to the ceiling.

“Indeed, but objects are objects.”

I put my finger on my chin and pondered that one.

“I suppose...I haven’t considered that one before…”

“You know what I mean, surely,” Demetria slammed her fist into her other palm. “I want a weapon constructed, and I know that will cost me a great deal.”

Ah, just like before. When she rejected that million dollars in favor of a pretty looking knife and some throwing knives. Their value wasn’t even equal, but...I mustn't question the logic of a brilliant detective like my soon to be daughter.

“Why certainly, deary! If that is what you desire, so be it.”

“Sweet. I’ll get on this case right away!” She just about jumped for joy. Now there was my precious daughter I (barely) knew and loved.

“Great, but before we get started on the details, I must say,” I shook my head in lament, “I miss the green.”

“You know what? So do I.”

I was filled with a gross sensation of elation. My eyes widened and so too did my smile and I ran up to her, got down on my knees, and begged.

“You must let me dye your hair!” I took her hands and pressed my forehead against them.

“Oh? You’d do that?” “I would be delighted to! Now tell me, what shade would you like?”

“I was thinking of a darker shade of green, actually. Like, maybe seaweed green.”

“Say no more! Come with me, to the grand bathroom, also known as my personal salon!” I dragged her away as I ran through my halls and down a flight of stairs, then a little off to the right, and bam! A shiny silver room with many sinks and a golden, leather adjustable seat.

“Sit! Please!” She plopped down into the chair and spun it around.

“Don’t get too giddy. You’ll need to lean back into the sink, okay?”

She gave a single nod, and then I spun her around a bit until her back faced the sink. Yes, the marvelous sink made of marble and copper, not just porcelain, but the finest of fine materials.

I let the sink run and I opened up the cabinet above her where a mirror rest. Within the cabinet contained many dyes, bleaches, shampoos, and conditioners. You know, for when you’re having one of those days. Her head leaned back and soaked up the shimmering sink water. After she was thoroughly soaked, I turned the water off and lathered in the dye while massaging her scalp.

“Ah, this feels so nice,” she let out a sigh of pleasure, “I could get used to this. It’s like all the negative energy I’ve had is being released.”

“We are our worst critics, dear,” I comforted her, both with my words and the magic of my massaging hands.

“Ugh, yeah, I hate that critic. I hate myself. Oh, there’s that negative energy again, welcome back,” she turned glum just as fast and she lost her glum.

“No, no, no. Love your critic. She’s there for you when you need her, always looking for the best in you.”

“Huh, I never looked at it that way.”

“Yes. My inner critic tells me that Zeus is always cheating on me, and she always turns out to be right.”

“Ugh. Why do I listen to you?”

“Because half of the things I say have a kernel of wisdom to them,” I answered her as I continued to massage her scalp. “Also because it’s okay that he’s always cheating because I’ve slept around too and I don’t need him, I can have any man I want. Woman, too. I don’t see why I need to be picky.”

“Aah – this is nice. So, what’s the deets with the mish?”

‘Mish’. In all my years, that was a word I’ve never heard before. Perhaps it meant, like, mish-mash, or Misha, if she knew of any Mishas. For the record, I did not, and I didn’t see how a ‘mish’ could be related to the task at hand, but no matter, I’d tell her all I knew.

Oh dear. Am I really prepared to be so intimate with the details?

“Well, you see, dear, there’s been…” I felt a lump in my throat. Perhaps the other day I swallowed an Adam’s apple and had forgotten about it. Whatever the case, I knew I had to continue.

“You must know that both Zeus and I are something of ‘swingers’. ‘Libertines’, if you will. ‘Sluts’, if you’re feeling fancy. There is no shame in enjoying life’s greater pleasures, so I feel no need to mince words.”

“Fair enough, but it sure sounds funny the way you put it,” she remarked. “Also, I think I already knew all that.”

“Okay, well, lately I’ve been thinking, this whole sleeping around hobby, it was great and all, and I don’t regret anything, but at the same time, it just hasn’t brought me the same enjoyment as it used to. Throughout our escapades, I always considered Zeus to be my number one, and he always said the same about me. But now I think I want him to be my only one, you know? Monogamy, as the stuffy ones call it. Yes, I can imagine you find the word boring just by hearing it.”

“Not really. One person, many people, whatever. You do you.”

Wow, I have such a supportive daughter. That settles it. I am going to spoil the hell out of her.

“Well, it’s always been monogamy, I suppose, but there’s always been side dishes, even when Zeus was the main course. Now, I think I just want the main course and nothing on the side. A full platter of man, if you will. Besides, what with us both growing older, I figured he’d want to settle down, too, and when I spoke to him about it, he agreed, and he told me it would be just the two of us from here on out.”

“Oh, okay. So he’s cheating on you,” she concluded without so much as a second thought. No evaluation whatsoever.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump to conclusions!” I cautioned her. “Yes, he probably is, but he might not be, and I’d like to leave room for doubt. Besides, he agreed. I’m tired of sleeping around and I’m sure he feels the same.”

“Yeah, but if I find him and he’s off with another woman…”

Really? A whole other woman when I’m right here? No, unfathomable. Yes, he would do such a thing, but what woman could be as great as me, Hera? If that happens to be the case, there can be no other conclusion than that he was tricked somehow…

“Then I’ll kill her,” I had my answer ready in my arsenal.

“I get why you’d be mad, but don’t you think you’d be directing your anger at the wrong person when he’d be the one cheating?”

She raised a fair point, but he promised. That should be worth something, right?

“What makes you think it’s his fault? Are you in league with her?” I went on the defensive.

“No? I don’t even know who ‘her’ is, if it even is a her. I’m on your side, remember? I’m just saying, him cheating is a possibility, and not even all that unlikely.”

“Yeah...you’re right…” I conceded. “I just don’t want to accept it as a possibility, is all.”

Just the idea made me want to weep.

“I get that, I do. You’re a little kooky, I admit, and I don’t always get what you say or do, but I imagine how I’d feel in your position, and if it comes true that that’s what he’s up to, just know that it’s not any fault of yours, and you’re plenty great on your own. You two talked about it and had a deal, and if he can’t respect that, then he should’ve just left.”

“No! No way!” I stamped my foot.

She looked up.

“Or you should just leave, too,” she suggested an alternative. Now that was much better.

“Yes,” I sniffled. I wasn’t crying or anything, I was just really congested due to living near the sea. “Thank you, deary.”

“No prob. For the record, I’m not about to be a relationship counselor or anything. Just common sense, really,” she sounded like she was trying to backpedal, something I found both cute and endearing of a little daughter of mine.

“We’re almost done. You’ll have to let it sit for a bit, but then I’d love to see the amazing seaweed girl that you are,” I informed her.

“Why do I have to be a seaweed girl?”

I let out a grand chuckle and continued working on her scalp. Once we were all done, and I rinsed it all out, I wrapped a down feathered towel around her head and headed out.

“Come see me in an hour, dear, or whenever it’s dried! I’ll be waiting,” I waved and winked as I headed to who knows where. I first thought to enter my bedroom and slip into a nightgown, but then I decided it wasn’t late enough in the night for that, so then I thought to enter the other bathroom and do some light contemplation, but I didn’t even know what that meant, so at last, I decided to do the reasonable thing and lay off to the side on my armchair, my legs dangling off of one end and my head rested against the arm of the chair. Now if only I had a glass of wine or a bottle of perfume, I’d be the definition of exquisite.

My eyelids began to grow heavy and I thought I would take a little nap or nod off, but before I managed to do that, out walked my precious daughter, Demetria, with the towel over her head, and as soon as I looked up, she released the towel and let down her shoulder-length, wavy dark green hair.

“So? What do you think?”

I clapped like an elephant seal.

“Amazing! Ten out of ten! Your hair looks like a fresh bag of spoiled lettuce!”

She slumped over and gave a disgusted look.

“Did you have to make that comparison?”

I failed to see the problem with that, but at her behest, I tried a different one.

“I could put rice on your head and a cut piece of salmon and roll your hair, then eat it all up!”

“Please don’t eat my hair.”

“I’m not saying I would, dear, just that I could.”

“Well, could you not?”

I closed my eyes and smiled.

“Very well, dear.”

Our night was still young, ripe time for the two of us to hit the streets – which meant that she had requested me follow her to Hephaestus’ forge. Ah, my estranged son. He was a bit on the reserved side, but I knew our love for each other was unparalleled.

“It’s so strange stepping in…” I muttered as I opened the wooden door to his weapons shop.

“Why’s that?”

I scratched my cheek and gave an awkward smile.

“Well, you see...he generally doesn’t like it when I visit. He says he doesn’t like to see me.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” She gasped.

“Honey, as the self-proclaimed matriarch of Olympia, I’d say I know my fair share of everyone.”

“Oh. Huh. For some reason, I’m not all that surprised,” she remarked. At that, I gave the door a gentle push with my palm, and the two of us entered.

“Hephaestus!” I bellowed. “My beloved not-yet daughter wishes to have a weapon forged for her!”

“Excuse me?” Demetria looked up. “Not-yet daughter?”

“All in due time, my dear.”

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then thunderous footsteps made shockwaves and little weapons hung on the wall moved in place, some danced along, and a few looked like they were about to fall. On the third footstep entered the bulky frame of Hephaestus, equal measure dispassionate as he was passionate about his craft.

“What are you going on about now, Hera?” He demanded in his bored tone. I knew deep down, he cared with a deep aching. Even if that care had to do with the weapons he forged, and nothing to do with me.

“Hey, remember me?” Demetria stepped up.

Hephaestus squinted, then leaned in. Once he stood back up, he clutched his belly and let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s the friend of the troublemaker, Sunny! Oho, what a surprise! How’s your yakutian knife working out for you? I hope you’ve been treating her well.”

“I have, but I think I’m ready for something new,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’ve written up the schematics for a brand new weapon. Think you’re up to the task.”

His eyes darted around the page of the sheet of paper and I couldn’t get a single view of what was on it.

“Hmm...Hmm…” he mumbled while looking it over, then at last declared, “your drawings leave a lot to be desired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not exactly meant to be an artist. But you are, yes?”

“How would I go about making this?” He asked in response, something which baffled me. Wasn’t he the one who could craft any weapon he wanted, and there he was asking such a ridiculous thing?

Demetria set down her backpack and pulled out a bunch of shiny rocks which seemed to move in place. Except they didn’t. I wasn’t really sure, I might have been on acid.

“I’d like you to forge it with this, along with the finest steel you have.”

“What kind of material is this? Is it corrosive, because let me tell you, I will not deal with such toxic metals.”

Demetria shrugged.

“Dunno, but should be fine if you’re wearing gloves. So, what do you say?”

“Girl, even if I am able to make this to your liking, it will cost you dear –”

I interrupted.

“I’ll be paying for all of it,” I informed Hephaestus and I could see sparks fly in Demetria’s eyes, “so the cost won’t even be an issue. Just make this for my soon-to-be-daughter, will you?”

“Hera…” He growled. Not one more word directed my way. Such a shame, but such is life. He instead turned back to Demetria. “I’ll make your weapon. It may take me a while. I can’t give you an estimate as I’ve never worked with such material. Just know that when all is said and done, I’ll be wringing Hera dry.”

“Fine by me,” Demetria replied with a shrug. “By the way, what’s with this ‘daughter’ crap?”

“It’s a Hera thing,” he stated.

“But she’s not my mom,” Demetria argued. It broke my poor little heart to hear such words.

“Not yet. Trust me, girl, she’ll find a way,” he grumbled.

“Well...I’m just not going to pay it any mind and get to work on the task at hand! See you two later!” Demetria ran off out of the store, leaving Hephaestus and I to stare into each other’s eyes with a pronounced longing. Well, his was a longing which said, ‘get out of my sight right now’ as well as a longing to return to his work. Mine was a longing for longing’s sake.

“Why do you insist on trying to adopt every person you deem adorable like they’re a lost puppy?” He spoke at last, breaking the familial tension. Or adding new tension. Either way, they were words.

“It worked out for you, didn’t it?”

“Only because I was already an adult and was living on my own by the time it was revealed I was your son!”

“You have to understand, dear, that mommy was very young and reckless and I employed the surefire method of dropping you off on someone else’s doorstep. Also, for your information, technically speaking, Demetria and I are already related.”

“Oh? Do tell. Wait, never mind. Don’t.”

Too late. He shouldn’t have indulged me.

“You remember Aphrodite, don’t you?” I asked with a Cheshire cat grin spreading across my face.

“Don’t remind me. I’m glad I finally have some space. I was never really into her anyway.”

“Yes, but you did marry her for a short time.”

“Only to shut her up. She kept trying to interrupt my craft.”

“Yes, but you did marry her.”

“Okay, okay! What’s your point?”

“Well,” I leaned up to the glass casing of the counter and folded my hands together, “she was my daughter-in-law, due to you two being married, and now she’s in a relationship with Demetria’s older sister. Check-mate, dear son.”

“I think you’re stretching the definition of being related. And how do you know that?”

If my smile grew any wider, my face would split in two, but I couldn’t help myself.

“See, a while back ago when she first visited, Zeus and I decided to do some sleuthing into Demetria’s family.”

“So in other words, stalking.”

“Oh, but stalking has such a negative connotation. I prefer sleuthing. Anyway, we found out that her eldest sibling, Hestia, was quite beautiful, and single. Which meant she was fair game for either one of us to try to pursue. However, Aphrodite overheard our plans and intercepted us, and somehow managed to woo her.”

“You really are horrible, you know that?”

I waved him off. Children could be so disrespectful.

“Anyway, Hestia is old enough to be one of my daughters, so I think I found a better prize.”

“You don’t mean –”

“Yes. I’m going to pursue Demetria’s mom.”

“What about Zeus?”

Oh shit. I totally forgot about him. He was missing and could be in danger and there I was thinking about romantic conquests. We were still married, after all.

“Never mind that, then. Maybe I’ll keep that plot in the back of my mind in case Zeus is cheating on me.”

“Good news, then: he probably is. That’s his thing.”

“No! He wouldn’t! He’s probably scared and hurt somewhere!”

“Yeah, he probably hurt his penis in a tragic fucking accident,” my vulgar son shot back.

“Enough! Demetria’s looking for him and when she finds him, then you’ll see!”

“No I won’t. I’m going back to my forge. I’m not dealing with this crap.”

“Fine, but you better make the perfect weapon for my precious daughter!” I yelled to him as he walked away.

“She’s not your daughter,” he called back, his voice boomed with a lack of interest in continuing the conversation.

“Not yet!” I yelled, then stormed out.

Nobody was on my side, especially not my son who didn’t like me, but I would show them.

Back at my house, I decided to take matters into my own hands and grabbed my pistol. Before the night was over, I would find my husband if it was the last thing I did. With any luck, Demetria was already close to finding him, so if I found Demetria, I’d find my husband. Win-win.

But in the dead of the night, there were no guarantees. Silent were the streets, and silenter still were the confines of others’ homes. Even with my due diligence and my keen senses, I picked up nothing. Hell, I even tried to use echolocation, and that too failed.

All through the town I crept along and listened for even the slightest of discrepancies. At one point, I thought I heard someone shuffling behind a dumpster, but when I walked into the alleyway, it turned out to just be a rat.

However, when I was willing to give up my search, I heard the sound of someone running by just one street over. Then, a high-pitched shriek pierced through my eardrums. I ran toward the sound at once, and what I saw left me trembling.

Out from an open apartment door ran a screaming, mahogany colored haired woman in a bath towel. Following her was none other than my missing husband, arms stretched out, Zeus.

“Hey! Wait up! I can still go one more round! I may be getting old, but I’ve got the stamina of a donkey!” He called after her.

“Get away! I didn’t know you were married!” She shouted back.

So that’s the seducer! I didn’t even know her name, but that didn’t matter. What was it about her? Younger? Slimmer? Darker hair, maybe? Whatever it was, it had led Zeus astray.

Beside the temptress was Demetria.

No. No way. We had a deal. She was supposed to help me.

“Stop!” I shouted with a firmness that halted everyone in their place. My pistol was aimed at the other woman, then I shifted my aim over to Demetria, then Zeus. Finally, back at the other woman, the true target.

“You. You were the one who took my husband from me!” I declared and my arms shook as I held the pistol. In a panic, the woman pleaded and her lips quivered.

“You’ve got the wrong idea! He came onto me, he said he was just a down on his luck old man!”

“Lies!” My voice grew shrill and I shot at the ground next to her feet. She jumped back and squealed in fear.

“Hera, listen to me, you have the wrong idea!” Demetria jumped to the woman’s defense.

“You’d take her side as well?” I felt a sour taste fill my mouth and I was about ready to vomit.

“I’m not taking her side, I’m trying to explain to you the situation!”

“Enough!” I fired the pistol, a deafening howl which caused me to shake further when I was already shaken.

Dust filled where I had aimed, and when the dust settled, I was in shock over what I saw: there Demetria stood, her arm reached out as well, as a barrier had been erected from a strange device. She was in front of the other woman, and stood tall and proud.

That time, my lips quivered as well, as did my eyelids.

“Why? Why would you deny me my justice?”

“This isn’t justice, Hera,” Demetria replied, her tone flat, yet just as firm, “Maybe if she knew and was willing to go along with it anyway, she’d be culpable as well, but that is not the case.”

“But...but…” tears flooded out from my eyelids and sullied my face. “It hurts so much. Why? What did I do wrong?”

“In this case, nothing. You didn’t have to do anything wrong. The one at fault isn’t you, and it isn’t this woman, it’s Zeus.”

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. There was no way…

“And you can continue to hate the ones he sleeps with, but the fact remains that the one sleeping around is the one who’s getting away,” Demetria continued with conviction. Then my eyes darted toward Zeus and...damn it! He really was getting away. He started to turn tail and ran.

“Just so you know, it’s not my fault either! Can’t help myself!” He yelled behind him. I pivoted my aim and shot the back of his knee. His head lurched up as he cried out in pain, blood splashed out from the wound in his knee and landed on the concrete beside him.

I walked over to him, slow and deliberate in my motions.

“Geez, woman! Was that really necessary?!” His face was red and it contorted to an upset scowl as he spat out.

“If it’s the only way to get us to talk, then yes,” I informed him.

“Fine. Let’s talk. What is it? What do you want?”

In his enraged state, he looked truly pathetic. But I sure would miss seeing him on his knees. Alas, this wasn’t the type of thing a collar and leash would fix.

“I want you to know that we’re through.”

His faced relaxed, and then turned to a pout.

“But why?” He whined.

“I’m just tired of sleeping around. It used to be fun in the beginning, but now I want someone who only wants me, and you told me that you would stop and be that someone, yet you continue to sleep around.”

“But who will I cheat on now?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“Sleeping around just won’t be the same without you.”

“You’ll manage. Goodbye, lecherous hairy man.”

I walked off and left him where he was. Next was Demetria.

“Come, daughter-to-be. Let’s head back to my humble abode.”

“Enough with the daughter thing, sheesh!” She complained, but followed anyway. As for that unfortunate woman…

“You in the towel,” I glanced behind me. “As an apology for tonight, I’ll send you a gift basket in the mail.”

“Uh...okay...what?”

Back at my home, I sat and wept, head in my hands.

“What will I do now? I’ve gone most of my life without being single!”

Demetria sat on a small kitchen table with her legs folded.

“Hey, where’s the stupid confident Hera at? The one who says she could have any man, or woman?”

I knew what she was doing: the legendary pep talk.

“Yeah,” I looked up, tears still streaming down my face, “I could have anyone! I may be getting into my sixties, but I’ve still got it! Meryl Streep’s got nothing on me!”

“I don’t know who that is, but that’s the spirit!”

“Anyone would be lucky to be with me, including your mom!”

Demetria blinked, then gave a blank stare.

“Wait, what?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having two moms, hun,” I smiled a crooked smile.

“Yeah, that’s true, but I don’t even know if my mom swings that way, and even if she does, I’m not sure I like the idea of you and my mom dating.”

“Don’t be surprised if it happens. I’m hot stuff,” I snapped my fingers and pretended a flicker of flame was above my hand. There wasn’t any flame, but the imagery was nice.

She slept over that night, and several more nights after until Hephaestus was done with the weapon. I didn’t get a chance to see it, but from what she told me, it was perfect. When I went to ask Hephaestus, he just said:

“Eh. It was a knife,” without any more specifics. I couldn’t believe he’d keep a secret from his own mother, especially since it was regarding his craft.

“I think I’m ready now,” Demetria told me, nearly a month since she first arrived.

“Ready?” I asked, unsure what she meant.

“I’m going to head to the diner in the arctic, where my other family is,” she explained, which I then felt a tinge of jealousy over. But I let it pass.

“Mm...I think I’ve heard about that place. There’s a fog in the area right now. The ferryman won’t operate in such a fog,” I informed her, “if you’re adamant about going, I can give you the coin to a ferryman, but they’ll drop you off somewhere outside of the fog, which means you’ll have to walk the rest of the way through it.”

“So be it. If that’s what I gotta do, then I’ll brave it.”

I admired the courage she had, even if I didn’t see why she would go through such trouble in the first place. From out of a drawer under the coffee table, I fished out a ferryman coin and tossed it to her.

“Thanks! I just realized that before I go, I should dress for the cold. Are there any clothing stores around?”

“Indeed there is. Shall we go shopping?”

“Yes! I think I could use your judgment when it comes to attire.”

I wondered why she thought that, but I appreciated the compliment. Of course, once we went shopping around the streets of Olympia, I began to understand and after she covered herself up, I saw her off.

We’ll meet again, I thought. And maybe by the time we do, I’ll be in the arms of your mother.

#remoras full #intermission #a quick side story before chapter 39 #family #drama #hera #hephaestus #zeus #cheating

[queen-fenestra]

okay so, i wrote some solangelo fanfiction and here it is. also, @wundersimp you said you would be interested and also tagging @simping-for-solangelo and @bookingfangirl

“It isn’t the 1900’s anymore, Nico. Nobody except stuck-up, homophobic drew is gonna hate on you. Just please, come outside. Please. Just come to the dining pavilion with me. You have to eat,” Will said, pacing the Hades cabin. Drew Tanaka had seen Nico and Will holding hands. It had been the first time, after Will had spent weeks trying to convince Nico that hardly anyone at camp would at him. As Will had just said, it wasn’t the 1900’s anymore. Drew had been put on kitchen duty for the next month, and had to do all her activities supervised by the Stoll brothers. They could hand out as many even remotely fair punishments, as long as Katie approved. Katie was the only one who could make Travis do something, and, more impressively, make him not do something. Though Drew was getting a very fair punishment, her words didn’t stop hurting Nico. now he wouldn’t leave his cabin, or talk to anyone. Will had iris messaged Jason, Reyna, and Hazel, and they came immediately, but Nico wouldn’t let them into his cabin. Will came to Nico’s door today and knocked. He had heard no sound and went in, seeing Nico pointedly ignoring him.

“Yeah, alright. Sure,” said Nico dryly, “I have sooo much proof of that, considering what happened.” Nico sounded like he was heavily rolling his eyes. His voice was filled with so much sarcasm that it hurt Will to hear it.

“Nico, Drew is an asshole, but others aren’t like her. Just come outside. Doctors orders?” Will finished, sounding uncertain as to whether saying doctors orders would help.

“Why should I come outside. I have KD stocked up, and I don’t want to. And nobody wants to see me.” 

“Nico, KD isn’t good for you. And you need water.” Will pleaded. Nico pointed to the tap.

“One good reason, Will.” Nico said. 

“Because I love you Nico. That's why.” Will said. He was done with Nico’s shit. He was playing the ace up his sleeve. He looked at Nico. Nico started shaking, and Will rushed over to him. Will carried Nico to the couch.

“Did you not believe that I loved you? That I cared? I came to your cabin every goddamn day, hoping to see you. Your pretty face, your chocolaty brown eyes. I wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just you telling me to scram. I missed you.”

“Nobody likes me, I’m the loner. Everyone thinks I’m creepy. Son of Hades, raiser of the dead, now the weird gay kid. They all wish I would leave. I don’t know why I haven’t yet. No one can like me. It’s not natural,” Nico said, struggling to escape Will’s iron grasp.

“Nico, please,” Will begged, reaching out to brush a tear out of Nico’s eye, “Please. Not everyone will always like you. If you’re holding out for universal popularity, you’re going to be in here a long time.” Nico looked down into Will’s begging face.

“That sounds like it’s from something you made me read or watch,” said Nico, glaring accusingly into Will’s eyes. Will hid a grin.

“Maybe. I’ll tell you if you come outside with me,” cajoled Will, gazing hopefully up at Nico.

“No. You may like me, but everyone else wants me gone. I don’t want to go outside, just to have other people wishing I was gone.” Nico said, looking away from Will. 

“Nico, I know eight people other than me who care. Three of whom came earlier this week to get you out of this cabin. Reyna, Jason, Hazel, Frank, Percy, Annabeth, Leo, and Piper would hate a world without you. They were so concerned, Reyna, Hazel, and Jason came and sat outside your cabin for three days. Travis and Connor brought them food because they thought their cause was worthy. Travis and Connor cared. Other campers came and sat with them as you blatantly ignored all the people who cared about you because you didn’t believe people could care about you since Bianca died. But people do care. And you thinking that they don’t hurts them as much as it hurts you, because they think they aren’t being good enough to you. They think they hurt you in some way. But they didn’t and they deserve better than what you’re giving them. I understand that you’re hurting, and that Drew is a little shit and you have full permission to hate her, but we just want you back. Tell me Nico, when you say ‘other people’ hate you, do they have a face. Who are they?” Will asked. He let out all his emotions to try to get through to Nico. 

“You wanna know who other peoples faces are?” yelled Nico, “You wanna know? It’s Drew, yes, but also the kids at camp Jupiter sneering at Hazel and I as we walked past. It’s my dad as he told me I wasn’t as good as my sister and never would be, as he took Percy and locked him up, even after I asked my dad for a favour, saying it was for my crush. It’s the aphrodite kids shoving Percy and Annabeth into the lake. It’s Travis and Connor teasing me about HAVING A CRUSH ON ANNABETH when I saved them all from destruction at the battle of manhattan. It’s cupid- it’s cupid outing me in front of Jason in croatia.” Nico’s voice broke as he started sobbing. Will pulled him back onto the couch as he crumpled into tears. 

“Nico, people hurt you. I recognize that. But Hazel and Jason and Reyna and I sitting outside your cabin trying to help you aren’t those people. Your dad tried to make it up to you, he gave you a french zombie chauffeur. Travis and Connor tried to help us, bringing us meals in support of you. Cupid doesn’t matter. He’s an ocean away. All these people who mentioned aren’t going to attack you the moment you step outside your door. Come outside.”

“No.”

“Fine then,” said Will, “I’ve tried everything. Bye I guess.” He stood up and left. He wasn’t always calm and cool. He most often felt like an elastic band stretched almost to breaking point. And sometimes he snapped. He wasn’t the carefree, relaxed guy they always saw. He had his fair share of hurt. He had seen his siblings die, sometimes in his hands, as he tried desperately to save them. All the fallen campers, an inch away from death, lying around him at the end of the battle, knowing he couldn’t save them all. All the hours he worked in the infirmary after the warriors of the battle who got all the credit relaxed. All the times he needed a shoulder to cry on and having to be someone else’s shoulder. All that. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Nico left his cabin as soon as Will was out of sight. Not to go eat food or be with other people, but to be with Bianca. He shadow traveled to Zeus’s fist, where he had said goodbye to Bianca. Now he was saying goodbye to times with Will. He still shouldn’t have been shadow traveling and was almost incorporeal when he arrived. He sat there, sobbing silently into his knees. He wanted to disintegrate into the earth. He ran his dagger along his arms and legs, drawing trickles of blood. He didn’t want to leave, so he didn’t. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Nico?” Will called tentatively, “Are you here?” the door to the Hades cabin creaked slightly as he opened it. There was not a living thing in it. Nico wasn’t there. Where was Nico. Nico. If Nico was gone… Nico. No. Where was Nico. 

Okay Will, Will thought to himself, don’t panic. Where would Nico go? I have no fucken clue. Who knew Nico the longest? Percy. Who knows Nico the best? Jason or Reyna or Hazel. Problem, they are all the way on the west coast. Guess I gotta go see Percy.

____________________________________________________________________________

Percy set his homework down and walked towards the door of his apartment. Why did people come right when he was starting his schoolwork? He got distracted and never got back on track. Percy opened the door and was met by Will. Will looked very anxious, so Percy let him in.

“Please say there isn’t another war and you’re here to recruit me for it,” sighed Percy, already resigned to his fate.

“No,” Will assured him, “It’s not that. It’s Nico. He left. I don’t know where he is. Do you have any idea where he could be hiding?”

“Yeah,” said Percy, “I’ll take you there. Follow me.” They walked down to the street, where Paul’s prius was parked, and drove to camp.

____________________________________________________________________________

Nico felt like an asshole. He had driven Will away from him, just like everybody else he cared about. He had been so annoying his sister had joined the hunt. Percy had mistrusted him so much after his father had tricked Nico, and now he always felt that Percy didn’t fully trust him. The members of the argoⅡ had been glad to get rid of him when he left with Reyna. Why did this always happen to him? He couldn’t have other people in his life. It didn’t work for him. As soon as he got attached to someone they always left. He didn’t deserve them.

____________________________________________________________________________

When Percy and Will got to camp, Percy set off at a fast pace towards the forest. They walked through the woods in a straight line, never varying in their direction. Will soon realized where they headed. They were a couple of meters away from the clearing around zeus’ fist, when Percy stopped. 

“This is my best guess,” said Percy, “He said goodbye to Bianca here. This is where he’d go if he lost someone. You might want to go alone. I’ll wait back at the big house. Annabeth told me something I should tell Chiron.” Percy turned around and walked back the way they had come. Will stepped into the clearing.

“Nico?” he called tentatively, “Are you there?” He looked and saw a crumpled from leaning against the rocks. “Nico!” Will rushed to Nico. Nico was sobbing and had blood running over his arms. He had scratched his werewolf cuts open.

“I’m sorry Will,” Nico sobbed into Will’s shirt, “You don’t deserve me. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” Will whispered, “Don’t be sorry. I know this is hard for you. We don’t have to go back right now. We can stay here, but we have to go back eventually. We can stay here for a while though.” He comforted Nico, letting Nico sob into his shirt. It was too much for Nico. He had just made up his mind to run away to the yukon, where he wouldn’t bother anyone again. He had no idea how long he sat there, sobbing into Will’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry that I’m difficult, Will. I’m sorry I made you snap.”

“Nico, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Let’s go back to camp. I’m hungry.” Hearing Nico say he wanted to go back to camp made Will smile. They headed out of the woods to the dining pavilion, where Nico ate healthy food, doctor’s orders. And Nico sat at the Apollo table, doctor's orders.

[fullsunalicia]

ooh idk if requests are open, but if they are could you write a sort of spin off to the tale older than time for jaemin??? bECAUSE YES SON OF EROS FALLING IN LOVE AND HIM NOT SEEING IT COMING?? yes pls,,,,oh and if you ever plan on making it a series with all the dreamies as demigods i will literally worship you and set up a temple for you !! you write so well !!

love and war - NJM

maybe the fates mixed something up when they tied the red string of the daughter of ares to eros’ son instead of aphrodite’s, but jaemin wasn’t complaining. after all, it was love at first sight, and eros is the next-best thing, right?

son of eros!jaemin x daughter of ares!y/n

hello my love! yes, they’re open, so request away as much as you’d like! thank you for this one, i hope you will enjoy it 🤍 also, that sounds really intriguing! for you, i will go ahead and try to write a greek mythology au for every dreamie 🤍 but i’ll have to say that no matter how many temples you build for me, i’ll build dozens more for you! thank you so much for your kind words bubs 🥺

Jaemin was used to playing matchmaker.

Not once did the students on campus flock to the children of Aphrodite when they needed help with love, even though Jaehyun was literally right there. They trusted Eros and his genes, because everyone knew the story of Psyche and wished to find a love like theirs.

Sure, he bended the rules a little bit when he helped Jeno... but what the Fates don’t know, shouldn’t bother them, right?

Little does Jaemin know that they’ve decided to take Na Jaemin’s love life into their very own hands. Somewhere in Greece, up high on a mountain, Cloto, Lachesis and Atropos are having the time of their lifes tying little (y/n)’s red string to Jaemin’s. Not even his father can hinder them, because Jaemin knowingly broke the rules.

They’d like to see how Jaemin would manage with the ill-tempered, hot-headed (y/n), demi-goddess, Ares’ pride and joy.

After all, you’ve never fallen in love.

❀ ❀ ❀

There’s a reason why your knuckles are split open nearly every week.

One look at the you and everyone determines that you must be really weak. Frail, pushed aside almost too easily. You hide it well, because the second they under-estimate you, they’re already dead. (l/n) (y/n) looks nothing like her elder siblings, but you pack quite the punch. It’s the golden, godly blood flowing in your veins that throws in that extra swing, just the amount of strength needed to break someone’s jaw. That’s a blessing only the children of Ares possess - there is not a single fight they ever lose, or at least lose immediately. They were born to conquer, fight and win, meant to be leaders, warriors and protectors.

So when some assholes on campus make your best friend Yuqi uncomfortable, you’re the first to start the brawl. It’s really not your fault those jerks couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. If a girl says no several times and they still can’t accept it, they’ll just have to sort it out with your fists.

You’re not like your father. You don’t actively search for fights, even though there’s nothing that makes you feel more alive than a well-delivered kick or the satisfying feeling of bones cracking beneath your grip. You inherited the love for a good fight, but not the stupidity to look for it at every corner. There’s a hot temper boiling beneath your skin, but you keep it in check pretty well. Unless of course someone bothers Yuqi. That’s something different entirely and you welcome that particular red haze every time it comes.

“Please, please stop hurting yourself for me,” Yuqi begs you as she holds your bandaged hands tightly in her own. You see no reason in putting band-aids on them, but your best friend can’t live with herself if she can’t atleast treat your wounds, so you let her do her thing every time. “I wish you’d just let someone else do it. You know it’s not possible to win every time, (y/n), you’re a daughter of Ares, not the god themself.”

“I warned them not to touch you.” The shrug of your shoulders only upsets Yuqi more. “That was their own fault. I’m not standing aside to someone bothering and harrassing you like that. Not until someone else does it for me, like a future boy- or girlfriend.”

“I’m straight.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

Yuqi laughs, pink blush settling on her cheeks. You’re only joking, but you know she ponders over that thought, her beautiful mind wrapping itself around the fact that Yuqi was still discovering herself. Her wisdom shone through every thing she said, and she was a good match to you as a daughter of Athene. She was the brains, you the some-what muscle. Even though your parents couldn’t stand each other, Yuqi and you loved each other like sisters.

The girl reaches out to brush your hair out of your sight, then she interlocks your fingers and pulls you forward. Weirdly, you adore skinship. The feeling of a warm body beneath your touch, living, breathing. Not in the violent way. In the sense of finding something and using as an anchor. A heartbeat did so much more than telling yourself to calm down. A smile, a heartfelt spoken sentence. You were as easily to calm down as any other demigod, even though it takes a little bit more than others.

You crave touch. Meaning. Or as they said in Mulan - a guy worth fighting for, even though you’ve never fallen in love.

Butterflies have never lived in your stomach, and you never get weak in the knees because of someone. Sure, you blush a good amount of times when you are complimented and hugged, but never once did that feeling expand into something romantic. It was ... disappointing.

Maybe you weren’t mean to fall in love. You’re only a pawn in the battleground your father laid out for you.

Across the room, Na Jaemin looks you in the face and feels his heart skip several beats.

❀ ❀ ❀

You’re perfect.

That’s the only word Jaemin’s head can offer as he looks at you, his heart seems to tremble in his chest at the sight of your pure smile. It’s not even directed at him, for fuck’s sake. But still, you are so lovely, and he almost stands up to walk over you. He’s Jaemin; if you’re born to break bones, he was born to flirt.

Almost. He decides against it, because of one single reason.

Jaemin has fallen in love several times. But he’s never met a soulmate before, and especially not his own. It’s different, the flower that begins to bloom in his heart for you, different from anything else in the world and only distinctive to children of love. Forget-me-nots, gardenias and cherry blossoms, they all settle in his heart, waiting for you to pluck them and make them yours. He doesn’t want anyone else to have them but you, and it didn’t matter if you are going to tear them apart or treasure them.

He had asked his father before, if soulmates were real. Not a very serious question, but nonetheless still spoken out of curiousity. Jaemin sees relationships like an outstander, able to change and fix, more than easy to manipulate. Love is unsure, it can never be caged. It’s meant to be free. Undeciding. Unraveling.

“They’re real,” Eros had responded. “Of course they are. There is a little truth in every myth. I don’t know if they’re really the people who were conjoined and cut apart by Zeus and his cowardice. But every once in a while, the Fates sit down and meddle with our business, for a relationship made in the stars. It’s not common, son. I haven’t seen them for a long time.”

And yet here you are.

He’s heard about you. That Ares girl, the one who’s so over-protective of a certain chinese business student.

He wonders if you attend NCT parties often.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yuqi doesn’t want you to go to parties. She says your temper explods too fast whenever you have a swig too much and she doesn’t know how to control an angry, intoxicated demigod. Everybody knows that whenever an Ares child is involved in a fight, someone ends up in the hospital. As a consequence, you are rarely offered a drink.

The only reason you attend parties is to watch your friends and/or play designated driver. That’s why you’re standing in this kitchen you’ve never been in clutching a glass of ice tea, and not the whiskey you’ve been eyeing across the table for half an hour now. It’s a shame, really. Drunk you is always so funny. People were denied of that show by Yuqi’s rule against getting drunk in public. Every fifteen minutes, she sends you a checking glance, and you’re still sober every time she does.

Na Jaemin is not. He’s not drunk, really, just buzzed, and that’s enough liquid courage he needs to approach you. The smile adorning his lips makes your stomach flip in an unknown way, and you let him approach you, curious of what he’s planning to do. “You’re not drinking,” he states inquisitively, free hand pointing at your alcohol-free cup. “Don’t like getting drunk?”

“Oh, I do. But I tend to beat people up when I do.” You sigh, crossing your arms in front of your chest, hoping that your silly heart would catch the drift and stop beating at multiple hundred miles an hour. He’s so stunning; This must be what Adonis had looked like, there’s no other explanation. The dazzling smile, the honest eyes that let you see every corner of his soul willingly. Not a single wall pulled up to protect himself. “But you seem to be having fun.”

“Only a little,” he laughs. That sound does wonders to your heart. You also wonder what the hell is going on with you. “But not too much, you know how we Eros children can get when the alcohol hits at once. Not a nice sight.”

“Can’t believe anything that has do with you not being a nice sight.”

The pick-up line is spoken with confidence, yet your cheeks heat up in an instant. Jaemin gauges your reaction, and his fingers twitch. He wants to cradle your face and take you up to his room to show you what else kind of sights he offers. And somehow at the same time, he kind of wants to squish your cheeks and run his fingers through your hair. Very conflicting. Jaemin tends to feel too much, too fast.

But with you, everything moves smoothly. Meant to be. Like the universe had mapped this out a long time ago.

“You’re cute,” he tells you, liking the way you shyly lower your gaze. He cannot possibly imagine you punching someone in the face, but he likes the fervor and passion he finds in your eyes. Love and war are very similar. It’s the first thing Jaemin was ever taught.

He tugs at your fingers, and you don’t stop him when he curls his pinky around yours. “Come on. Let’s do something fun.”

The house is stuffed with people who are trying to have a good time. Jaemin takes you deeper into it, leading you towards a group of people you recognize, but don’t actually know. Amazingly, they were playing billiard in their drunken state, and even though most of them have been drinking for a long time, they still hit their targets dead-on. You join them, and the entire night, Jaemin doesn’t move from your side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and your waist every once in a while but other than that, he respects your boundaries and follows the game intently, pouting when he loses and grinning smugly when something goes his way.

Jaemin throwing his head back in laughter is the most ethereal thing you’ve ever seen in life. He sets off electric currents in your veins, the very same ones you chased every time you were fighting someone.

Is this what a crush feels like?

❀ ❀ ❀

Jaemin decides that the perfect way to wake up is next to your pretty face.

He’s aware of the fact how creepy this is. But he cannot take his eyes off you, unable to will his gaze away. Every curve and slope of your body is breathtaking. Your hands are resting beside your head, and even though he winces at the cuts that adorn the back of your hand, it just... fits you so well. Never ever in his life has Jaemin felt like this before. It’s just impossible, how you wrap him around your little finger just by looking into his direction. You’re the sun, and he’s the planet orbitting you.

Matchmakers aren’t usually made into a match. But he finds himself perfectly content at your feet, even though the feeling is powerful and foreign. His mind is haywire.

Jaemin likes it. He likes it a lot.

When your eyes flutter open, his heart nearly jumps out of his chest because of the blush settling on your cheeks. “Hi,” you whisper, and he angles his body towards you, desperate for any kind of attention you’re willing to give him. “Hey, princess,” he answers, fingers twitching to hold yours. “Slept well?”

“Yeah.” You don’t move. Instead, you set your pretty eyes on his hands which are resting just below yours, and he wishes for you to take them. He’s too much of a scaredy-cat to do it himself. And that is so untypical of him - Na Jaemin isn’t scared of shit, affection is his second nature.

But you’re different. You were the match that set him ablaze, and his entire existence has shifted to accomodate you.

“Thank you for letting me stay over.” Fingers brush past his. He almost groans in frustration. “I was way too tired to drive home yesterday, and it was really fun, even though I was sober.”

“You don’t need to be drunk to have fun, princess,” is all he says, and it takes his entire courage for him to raise his hand and brush his knuckles against your cheek. Jaemin feels like ascending to heaven when you nuzzle his face against them, and he cups your face. You don’t stop him. You watch him, eyes curious, waiting. Jaemin inches closer.

Children of Eros don’t hold back. They exist for love and for passion, for lust and for loyalty. Emotions for them are inner explosions, felt more intensely than any other person in the world. And right now, he’s dying from anticipation.

“(y/n),” Jaemin murmurs. “I’m going to kiss you.”

His hand leaves your face to rest beside your shoulder, and your breath hitches when he lifts himself to hover over you. For a second, he thinks he’s overdone it. Instead, your fingers find his shirt and grip it tightly, godly strength shimmering through, tugging just so slightly. “(y/n),” he repeats. He needs you to say it. Needs you to give him permission to get lost in you and your touch, his very own paradise in the form of the stars locked in your eyes and all the love in the world in your smile.

If angels really exist, Jaemin is pretty sure they look like you.

“Please,” you whisper. Jaemin’s free hand moves to hold your waist, and you let him tug your shirt up so he can rest it on naked skin. You’re going to make him pass out, he realizes, because you’re so much to take in. So beautiful, so stunning, so alive.

“Please what, princess?”

You pull at his shirt, but Jaemin doesn’t move. You look cute when you bite your lip. “Please kiss me.”

You’re even cuter when you beg.

It should disturb him that the scent of blood lingers to your clothing like a constant afterthought. The bruises you’re going to leave on his shoulders because of your grip should scare him away. But all it does is draw him more in, and even though he’s the one in control right now, Jaemin feels like the little mouse walking right in your trap.

Hook, line and sinker. The moment your lips touch his, he’s a goner. Jaemin grips your waist tighter, hand sliding down to grip your thigh and guide your leg around his hips. He’s very aware that you could crush his shoulders with his bare hands, but the pain you inflict starts to turn into a guilty pleasure. How are you so powerful without knowing it? He tugs at your lower lip, welcoming the whine you let slip a little bit too enthusiastically, tongue meeting yours in a heated frenzy.

Jaemin thought he knew what love was. If not him, who else would? But after this, all his definitions are rearranged and they all spell out one name: yours. He’s barely able to abandon your lips, finding solace in the way you arch your back when he nips at your neck, leaving love bites wherever he can reach. The sound of his name falling from your lips is seriously messing with his sanity. Your hands move on from his shoulders to his hair to tug at the dyed locks, and Jaemin moans at the feeling.

Your taste of heaven is interrupted by someone furiously knocking against his door. Once, twice, until someone angrily yells from outside the room: “Na Jaemin, I’ve told you a thousand times that you have clean-up duty! Get your ass up!”

Jaemin groans, lips still attached to the column of your throat. Your legs keep him trapped against you and you close them tighter, to Jaemin’s delight. Neither of you want to be seperated right now. “Go away, Mark.”

“If you don’t get your ass outside in two minutes, I’ll come in and say hello to your female companion, you dick.”

You giggle at that. “Go, go,” you urge him, shyly cupping his face in your tiny hands to kiss him for a few seconds, way too short for his liking. He’s going to kill Mark for this. Jaemin looks you in the eyes for just a few seconds longer, then he rolls off from you in a pout.

The room feels really warm now. Sitting up, you fix your hair and he watches you, entranced. Like you’re his favourite movie and he didn’t want to look away. Mark keeps his promise, bursting in through the door to get his friend, but Jaemin pushes him out and steps into the hall with him.

“Write down your number before you leave, princess,” he calls over his shoulder, and then the door is shut.

❀ ❀ ❀

“I can’t believe you hook up with someone the second I leave you alone.”

“For the last time, Yuqi! I didn’t hook up with him!”

Your best friend is sprawled across your floor, fanning herself with her hand. It’s hot outside, the blue sky calming you down just by looking at it. For someone who lives to destroy you sure have your knack for aesthetics. “Then what else do you call it?” Yuqi hums.

You don’t know what to call it. You don’t have a noun for the feeling that Jaemin ignited, and you couldn’t get rid of it, despite avoiding him for a full week. Someone like you wasn’t supposed to feel like this. So ... weak. At someone’s beck and call. You are made out of conflict, strength and violence. Love wasn’t something Ares had in mind when he created you.

No, you scold yourself mentally, don’t refer to it as love. It’s not love. Love is stupid. But there isn’t any other way to describe it. All the books lie. There aren’t any fireworks or butterflies in your stomach. It feels like war elephants are running rampant, and your heartrate spikes the second someone mentions the J in Jaemin. The worst thing is that you miss him, had longed for him the entire week, inner turmoil caused by your wish to fall into his bed again or to run away from this university as far as possible.

You may not notice, Yuqi watches you. Your nervous antics of cracking your fingers and tugging at your hair. Both of you know there’s no way to win this war, no matter how long you sit down to think about a good strategy. There’s only one solution: admit defeat.

Something you were very, very bad at.

“(y/n),” the girl sitting on the ground speaks, voice soft, careful. Her eyes remind you of an owl’s. “You should have just left him your number.”

You breathe in shakily. “I don’t know him.”

“But you want to.” Her hands grip yours, finally pulling you out of that terrifying place in your head where you punish yourself for never being in love before and making this so hard for yourself. “I know this is new territory for you and you dislike things that are unknown to you. But just because you were born to fight, doesn’t mean you automatically aren’t born to love and to be weak. Your father loves war. Your mother loved him. Was she weak because of that? Absolutely not. She taught you how to fight and survive in this world, to stand up after being kicked down, to earn your place. Is that not what true warriors do? Is that not strength?

You bite your lip. Then you nod. Yuqi raises her head to kiss your forehead. “Don’t forget that love is the most powerful thing in the entire world,” she reminds you. She looks like Athene more than ever right now, her gaze firm, determinded. Razor sharp mind cutting apart this scary new feeling for you so you can digest it.

“Now go get your man.”

❀ ❀ ❀

[1:33pm] y/n: i should have written down my number

[1:34pm] jaemin: why didn’t you, princess?

[1:36pm] y/n: i’ll tell you personally if that’s okay with you

[1:36pm] y/n: dream café in five minutes

❀ ❀ ❀

Love is an act of surrender to another person.

Your father never taught you what that is. There is only victory in being the last one standing, winning, living to tell the tale. There is no room for error, or for weakness.

The strong ones never admit defeat. That was what Ares had imprinted into your mind from the minute you were born into this world. But what Ares doesn’t know is that he’s wrong. He’s not all-mighty, no God ever is. Their countless myths are living proof for that. And that is why you know that surrendering doesn’t mean being weak. It’s the most brave thing you could ever do, and not every one is able to do that. That itself is a strength. A streng not everyone possesses, but you’re willing to take the risk to acquire it, to step into the unknown, a blind fall.

It would be worth it if Jaemin was waiting to catch you.

He looks as beautiful as always as he approaches you, hands tucked into his leather jacket. You had been terribly afraid of him being angry with you, but he only sends you an angelic smile and dips down to drop a feather-light kiss on your cheek. “You changed your mind,” he beams at you.

Puzzled, you blink up to him. “What?”

“You had a change of heart.” Jaemin raises his hand and rests it on his chest, eyes never leaving yours. The amount of trust and joy you find in his eyes is astounding. “I felt it right here. I knew you’d be able to do it.”

You suddenly remember who Jaemin’s father is. While he grins at you, your cheeks heat up to a thousand degrees, and you cough to cover it up. “I did,” you mumbled. “And I’m so sorry of letting you wait. I... I’ve never felt for anyone like this before. I’m not used to feeling alive unless it’s because I’m breaking someone’s nose.”

Jaemin wraps both arms around you, and you rest your hands on his shoulders. Moving on instinct was common for the both of you. “I’m glad you found that feeling by being with me and not actually punching me,” he teases you. “And for the record, I’ve never felt like this either. You’re very special to me. And that’s why I was willing to wait. So stop apologizing, princess.” His face inches closer to yours, mischievous glint in his eyes. “I haven’t even taken you on a date yet. Very scandalous, if you ask me.”

“So that kiss meant nothing you? Traitor.”

“Hey, that’s hot how I meant it.” You both laugh, though you’re disrupted by him kissing you sweetly. “I don’t need any dates when my heart’s already yours. But you deserve to be treated like a princess, and to get properly taken out and pampered. I want to give you the world, (y/n). Will you let me?”

You do.

Somewhere in Greece, three old, angry hags are disappointed with your lack of protest. They had expected more ruin and punishment for Na Jaemin as an effect of tying your strings together. They should’ve remembered that Jaemin learned all his tricks from his father, who secretly lent his son a helping hand.

What did Jaemin say again? What the Fates don’t know, shouldn’t bother them.

#again i wasnt sure where i went with this LMAO but i quite like how it turned out #i’m still working on writing my one-shots longer; it’s kinda strange not tying everything together at once #but it’s getting better hehe #i hope you guys enjoyed the read #tell me what you think about it 🤍 ask box is open #na jaemin #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin fluff #nct dream #nct #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin scenarios

[childofhelios]

“flower blooms and falls scars cure and buds shoot”

ship: Hades!Doyoung x Persephone!Taeyong

characters: Doyoung, Taeyong, with appearances by Jeno and mention of Zeus!Johnny and Poseidon!Ten 

rating: general/teen for slight injury and mentions of blood, also slight possessiveness from Doyoung but he regrets it very soon after

genre: fluff with angst for like .5 seconds

word count: 2.8k

title was taken from seventeen’s fallin’ flower, which is really good to listen to while reading! also, tell me if there are any mistakes bc i did convert a piece of my other writing into this fic. but anywho enjoy and feel free to send a message/ask about what you think about it :DDDD

“Taeyong, please just come out.” I lean my forehead against the black, walnut door where I can hear him franticly running around her room.  “We can talk about this like civilized people.” I hear him begin to mutter under his breath and I catch him saying my name and a few unpleasant phrases that I wish weren't associated with my name, but alas. “Taeyong, don’t you think you’re being a little immature? You’re acting like a child!” 

I almost fall forward as the door opens suddenly. Taeyong’s eyes were ablaze with fury as he stares at me in front of his door.  

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, Doyoung. I just didn’t expect to get kidnapped by someone that I’ve never met, starved for six months, accidentally eat a pomegranate, and then be stuck in this terrible, dreary place with no other company other than the dead and you. And I would rather spend time with the dead!”  

“Believe me, the dead are worse company than I am.” 

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” I jolt at his loud voice echoing through the manor. I’ve had his presence for over six months, and I’m still not used to having people around me. To having an actual living, breathing person in my company. He sweeps a hand through bubblegum pink bangs and takes a deep sigh. “Doyoung, I beg of you. The humans need me. Without me, they’ll die. I need to go back on the surface to assist my mother.” 

I roll my eyes. “Humans are made to die. It’s how they're made to be. Plus, She’s is a goddess that has been around for centuries. She was able to assist humans without you there. Besides,” I take a hold of his hands, his beautiful tan contrasting against the blueish pallor of mine, “didn’t you say you loved me?” 

Yanking his hand out of mine, he says, “I said I loved you a little. And if I knew that it would go straight to your head and you would try to use against me, I wouldn’t have said it. If you had given me the chance, maybe it could have grown. Maybe I would have been able to become your bride.” 

“Taeyong, you can’t leave. I finally got used to having someone with me. You can still become my husband.” 

“Doyoung. You can’t just keep me here because you’re lonely.” 

I sigh and rise to my full height, towering over him slightly. “You’ve misunderstood me. You can’t leave. I forbid it.” 

He scoffs and pushes past me. “Haven’t you heard of free will? I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” Before he rounds the corner, something whizzes by his face. He whips around, furious with a small cut on his cheek beginning to spill golden ichor. I stride up to him and yank the sharpened ruby out of the wall.  

“It seems that you've forgotten who I am. I am Doyoung, the god of the underworld and riches. I am one of the oldest gods to exist and I’ll be one of the last to disappear. Did you think you’ll be able to leave that easily? This is my domain and I decide what comes in and out of it. And you,” I crush the ruby and let the powder run through my fingers like sand, “aren’t going anywhere, my little lotus. Now, you can walk to your room on your own, or I can have Cerberus escort you back there. Your choice, my dear.” 

If looks could kill, I would already be six feet under as Taeyong stares up at me. Slowly, he steps away and walks in the direction of his door. I watch as he leads a trail of ichor and shuts his door with a forceful SLAM! 

 I begin walking towards my quarters. As soon as I close my door, my knees give out. “Gods, why did I do that? You know that he’s right. We can’t force him here; he’s going to be unhappy and what’s the point of having him here if he’s upset the entire time?” I stare down at my hands as they tremble slightly. “I injured him. On purpose, I made him bleed.” It’s a weird feeling to be shaken by blood when that’s what I deal with every day. I see the most gruesome of murders and war causalities but injuring a minor god has me shaking in my boots. I wobble over to my sink and submerge my face underwater. I came up gasping for air and catch my reflection in the mirror. At the rate I’m paling, I’ll look more like a ghost than the people outside the manor. My eyes resemble the darkest of obsidian and have deep eye bags underneath them, my face is sunken in as if I’m a beggar from the streets, and my hair is matted in every which way. The longer I stare at myself, the more I can see the monster Taeyong must see.  

“JENO!” My voice booms and seconds later, a pile of bones bursts through the door. No, quite literally, a disassembled skeleton falls through my door and onto the ground before me. The skull, sporting a flat cap, turns towards me and grins widely.  

“Master Doyoung! What can I do to help you today?” 

“Please tend to Mr. Taeyong from now own. First, make sure his wound is taken care of. Second, make sure he eats, sleeps, and does whatever else he needs and wants to do. Do you understand?” 

“Absolutely, Master. He’s in the right hands. Or, um, bones.” 

“No tricks, Jeno. I don’t think our guest would appreciate that. And neither would I.”  

Jeno’s voice takes on a mischievous tone. “Guest? Don’t you mean groom, Master? Unless you’re having second thoughts?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean. But I do know this.” I pick up the skull and stare fiercely where the eyes would have been. “If you do anything to upset her, I will crush your bones into powder and use it as incense for the next 30 years. Do you understand?” 

“Would my bones even last that long?” 

“Do you really test me right now?” 

“Fine. I understand. Now, can you please put me back together again?” I roll my eyes, but I set down the skull in the middle of the bones. My eyes glow a bright gold and with a wave of my hand, the skeleton assembles once more. He fidgets with his cap.  

“Now, that’s much better!” 

“What happened to you?”  

“Cerberus tried to use me as a chew toy. Again.” 

“I knew there was a reason he’s my favorite.”  

“I would take personal offense to that but, he’s my favorite too.”  

“Go to Taeyong. Make sure she’s alright.”  

“Your wish is my command, Master.” As he walks out the door, his bones clatter and then I’m left in silence. I fall back into my bed, wondering if I should just apologize to him directly. I did act unreasonably, and I shouldn’t have let my anger explode like that, but I don’t want him to leave. As I lay there, I slowly drift off.  

 The next month is difficult for multiple reasons. First, immediately after I send Jeno to take care of Taeyong, he throws a fit and makes flowers grow out of every hole in his skeletal body. Then, he refuses to eat with me or even look at me. I would walk down the hall and he’d sprint into a side room just to avoid me. And let’s not even get started with the escape attempts. You would think after about 10, he would give up. But no. He has tried to escape more than 50 times. Fifty. I swear to the gods, he’s making me grow gray hairs just from stress. Then we have Johnny, Ten, and practically the entirety of the Pantheon breathing down my neck trying to bring her back. And I’ve explained to them multiple times that it’s the law of the underworld and I can’t change it simply because one young goddess is down here. But now, Thunder Thighs and Kelp-for-Brains can’t grasp it for some reason.  

I sit behind my desk, grasping my head as I glare at the piles of scrolls in front of me. You would think death was pretty cut and dry, but no. I have to deal with making sure bodies end up with families, people don’t act on stupid grudges and become monsters to kill people, or something else entirely stupid. I pick up one scroll when the door cracks open.  

“Jeno, I thought I told you if you disturbed me, I would- “  

“Let Cerberus year me apart and keep me as his chew-toy, I know, I know. But it’s urgent.”  

I drop the scroll in my hand. “If it means I can get out of my work, I’m all ears.”  

“Mr. Taeyong…. He’s disappeared again, Master.”  

The pounding in my head worsens. “Oh.” 

“Shall I go after him? Or maybe send some people after him?” 

“No, just leave him. If he’s this persistent to leave, then we should just let him go.” 

“But, Master!” 

“Enough, Jeno. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a rest before I break the law of my land.” I stand and stagger my way to my bedroom, ignoring Jeno’s shouts and how my head worsens with each step I take. Ugh, this whole affair is such a mess. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved with him in the first place. I close my eyes and the next time they open; the sky had faded from the morning’s light dusk to the afternoon’s midnight blue. I rise with my robes wrinkled and sleep in my eyes. I find my way to the kitchen and snag an apple before heading to the endless pile of scrolls I left. On my way there, I see Taeyong’s door slightly ajar.  

“Jeno, I thought I told you about going through other people’s things? You never-” Instead of seeing that insufferable skeleton with a guilty grin, I find Taeyong unpacking a bag. “You’re back.” 

“Not by choice, unfortunately.”  

“Oh? I thought you had left. Did Jeno stop you? I told him not to and not to send anybody either.” 

“No, my mother stopped me. Talked about how if I came back before my time here was finished, you would kill any human that even breathed wrongly. So, now I’m back here. I’m sure you’re ecstatic about it.” 

“No!” He looks at me suspiciously, setting down the robes he took out of his bag. “I knew you didn’t want to be here, so I thought not going after you once you had left would finally let you be happy. But it appears to be untrue.” He shakes his head and turns back to his clothes. “If there’s anything I can do that would make it easier for the next five months, please tell me.” 

“I don’t know. Not being here would be pretty great.” 

I wince. “Other than that?” 

“Answer this for me. You say you want me here, but you act like a shriveled prune every time I’m near. Why?”  

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean.” 

“I mean this! This is both the most you’ve ever spoken to me and the nicest you’ve been to me. It’s been a month and we’ve barely talked.” 

“So, what should I do?” 

He walks past me to the door and looks back at me from the doorframe. “Show me. Be sincere and I’ll see if I’ll want to stay.” He walks off and I’m just left stupefied in her room. I all but sprint to my office and start scrawling out two letters.  

I summon Jeno and give him a message. “Give this to Ten and Johnny. Tell them to respond to me immediately.” 

If immediately means 6 days later, I fear for their subjects. As I skim through both of their letters, I see the same pattern of making fun of me, attempting to help, and then making fun of me again. I should have expected it from Airhead, but I thought Ten would be at least somewhat helpful. I throw both of their scrolls in the fire because there was no use in keeping those around. I slam my head into my desk a couple of times, wallowing.  

Over several days, I tried every trick known to man and god. But it either ends with me making a fool of myself or just making Taeyong even angrier. I squat in the garden and hang my head in defeat. The artificial sun in the sky beats down on my skin and my hands are covered in coarse dirt.  

“Master, are you sure you don’t want us to help you? We have staff for this sort of thing.”  

I look back at Jeno. “For the fifth time, Jeno, I truly don’t mind doing this. At least, this is something to distract me from my work. I think my headache is getting better too.” 

“That must be true, sir, because you haven’t stopped smiling since you started planting. “ 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I look towards the lavender sprigs sitting next to me. “I was just thinking of Taeyong’s reaction when he sees this. I hope this brings a little bit of happiness to his stay here.” I continue planting the lavender until there was a cluster in the section closest to the entrance. At this point, I’ve only put half of the flowers in the ground. But I feel pride swell in my chest as I look at the tiny cluster I planted.  

“What are those?” I whip around to see Taeyong standing on the steps. 

“Oh, um. I was just planting some flowers in the garden. I know you’ve missed nature so I thought I would try to bring some to you.” 

“Wouldn’t they just die?” 

“No. I’ve been trying to grow different types of flowers down here and lavender was the only one that survived.” He continues to stare at me with a mysterious look in his eye. After a couple of seconds, he speeds down the stairs and gets on his knees in front of the sprigs I just planted. “What are you doing?” 

He snaps at me. “Shut up.” If it had been anybody else, they wouldn’t have been saying another word for the rest of their lives and even after that. But I close my mouth and I study Taeyong and he studies the lavender. His hands glow a soft pink and the lavender turns vibrant, almost energized. “There. That should help it for a little while.” 

“What did you just do?” 

“Just gave it a little pick-me-up.” I nod in understanding and Taeyong moves where I had placed the other flowers. “Where were you going to put these?”  

I point at the other side of the garden and he strides over there with the flowers in hand. “Ah, Taeyong. There’s no need. I have this under control.” 

He scoffs. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for the flowers because you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“Isn’t it just simply putting the plants into the ground and tending to their needs?” 

“Oh, gods. It’s so much more than that. You must be gentle and treat them with the utmost care. You move slowly and fluidly. Come here, I’ll show you.” I squat next to him and see him sprinkling dirt to cover the roots. “Doyoung?” 

“Yes, Taeyong?” 

“Did you know that there’s a language just for flowers?” 

“Really? Fascinating. Is it possible for me to learn? Can you understand it? Wait, has the lavender been speaking the entire time?” 

Taeyong giggles and the artificial sun shines brighter. “Not that kind of language. Each flower has its own meaning. Roses are passion, daisies are innocence, carnations are good fortune, etc.” 

“Wow, then what’s lavender?” 

He stares directly into my eyes, the mysterious look back on his face. “A lot of things but to name a few: purity, calmness, and... devotion.” 

The sun beats down harder, feeling like ants are crawling over my back. “Oh.” 

“Mhm. That’s why they’re one of my favorite flowers. They have a pure message, they’re absolutely beautiful, and they’re able to grow anywhere.”  

“Oh.” 

“Doyoung, do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t the faintest idea.” 

His eye twitches and throws a handful of dirt at my chest. “You’re a fool. I’m saying I return your affections. I acknowledge your feelings and feel the same way. Gods, I’m saying I love you and I’m willing to become your husband.” 

It didn’t fully register so my response was: “Oh, that’s nice.”  

“Let’s just continue planting these before it gets too dark, or at least darker. Then, we can discuss this later.”  

And so, we spent the afternoon tending to the flowers and as the day faded to night, we fell asleep with “I love you’s” littering the air like the sweetest and most intoxicating perfume.  

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