pfp by duvetbox! 🔞 some of my writing is 18+, most for 16+. The rating will say if it’s explicit UPDATES FOR TBWS ARE GONNA BE EVERY WEEKEND BUT IM FURTHER ALONG ON MY AO3
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: EPIC - Jorge Rivera-Herrans (Albums), The Odyssey - Homer
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Telemachus (EPIC: The Musical) & Original Character(s), Telemachus (EPIC: The Musical)/Reader, Odysseus/Penelope (EPIC: The Musical)
Characters: Telemachus (EPIC: The Musical), The Suitors (EPIC: The Musical), Penelope (EPIC: The Musical), Odysseus (EPIC: The Musical), clumsy Telemachus, Original Female Character(s), Fed up telemachus, Athena (EPIC: The Musical), Athena (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Antinous (EPIC: The Musical)
Additional Tags: Telemachus is done, fuck the suitors, bloody telemachus, Bloody Fucking, Antinous Being an Asshole (EPIC: The Musical), Telemachus Needs A Hug (EPIC: The Musical), Odysseus Needs A Hug (EPIC: The Musical), Everyone Needs A Hug, Odysseus returns, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Jay I’m sorry, fucking on a corpse, the corpse is antinous, Childhood Friends, potential domestic fluff??, Blood As Lube, POV First Person, Rough Sex, rough sex and love making, patching up wounds, Hidden Feelings, Mutual Pining, Pining, why the fuck did it take so long for them to admit their feels? Fuck if I know, theyre both dumbasses, Loss of Virginity, Loss of Parent(s), she ain’t got a dad fr, Slow Burn, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Warrior of the mind is a freak, FIGHT LITTLE WOLF, Friends to Lovers, Penelope Loves Odysseus (EPIC: The Musical), Odysseus has PTSD (EPIC: The Musical), Telemachus-centric (EPIC: The Musical), Telemarket is a sweet boy, but a FREAK, switch Telemachus, Bloody Sex, freak shit, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Just Sex, lotta sex goin on here soon I promise, gimme time I’m building to it
Summary:
Telemarket and Lyra (you) are childhood best friends navigating life with the suitors. Both of you discover your sick fantasies are shared. You hardly have time to process that fact before a storm reaches the coast of Ithica... wait is that man on fucking raft fighting the god of the sea? Hello??
Anyway they fuck on Antinous’ corpse.
Heyyyyy so a lot of chapter are gonna be smutty now that the homies are smashing. I realize they don’t get as many views— are some of y’all under 18?? 😭 should I split the chapters up so the smut is posted as its own thing and work around it? because the plot would get lost without reading those chapters.
Or should I just stop marking all my writing as mature and just put the 18+ smut warning on the nasty parts
Lemme know
Try to work around the plot and post the smut in seperate chapters-maybe choppy
Post the entire uncensored chapter but with a warning
Something else (comment!)
Voting ended onApr 18, 2025
This is strictly for tumblr, everything on AO3 is totally untouched.
Chapter warning: !!SMUTTTTTT 18+!! And bloody smex
Overall story tropes: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual and occasional smut/PWP, fluff
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
Only 3 mortals stand tall among 108 bodies.
The palace is silent aside from our challenged breathing and the dripping of blood.
Odysseus takes a last scan over the room. It’s hard to tell if he does this to spot any possible survivors or because he wants to bask in the fruits of his labor a little while longer. Now that he’s sure there’s no remaining threats, his gaze falls on Telemachus.
He gently puts down his weapons while making his way across the room. His face is the polar opposite of what we’d seen. His eyes are still sunken in with dark circles surrounding them…
But they’re soft…genuine.
He lets loose his hood so Telemachus can see his face.
“Son...”
There’s no doubt in his voice, no hesitation. This was the child whom had been fighting off men and monsters for.
He saw his own flesh and blood in the boy's beautiful brown eyes the moment he met them.
In a world where Odysseus didn’t become the man that he is today, he would’ve said his boy is his spitting image–a deadringer, really. But alas… Telemachus is bright… And he’s is not that man anymore…
“Father,” his son says as those brown eyes shine with excitement and pricking tears.
Telemachus half-walks-half-runs to meet him in the middle. He stares in sheer disbelief. He had tried for so long to envision what he might look like, and now he doesn’t have to. He struggles to speak,
“…All my life I’d have died to meet you…” He says with emotion swelling in his voice.
Odyssey’s eyes soften more so.
He’s looking into the grown face of what was once his small child before those 20 long years. Images of the ages he never got to witness flash in his mind.
His first steps, his first words, his first fight…Every birthday he’d missed. He sees all of it fly before him.
Athena is looking in wonder from the sidelines. Ares is bewildered by the violent change in tone. It renders him curious.
To give them their space, the pair vanish from the mortal plane. Athena is warmed by the reunion…She’ll return to them soon enough.
“I’d have given anything to know you...I dreamt for so long what it might be to know you beyond the likes of your name…” Telemachus chokes back tears,
“…And now you’re here…”
Odysseus is rendered completely defenseless. Even if he tried to imagine the feelings he was experiencing right now, he would never be able to.
Telemachus continues,
“I’ve always wondered if we’re like each other…If I have your strength… if you could see yourself in me…”
Odysseus interjects,
“My boy, look how much you’ve grown…” his voice quivers as he tries to find the right words.
“My darling, strong boy… the sweetest joy I’ve ever known…”
His eyes sparkle as he continues to speak,
“I was never around to see you become the man you are today. And for that I will live a lifetime of regrets…” Odysseus says, with a trembling smile.
“The time I suffered away from you has nearly killed me… You’re everything I could possibly imagine and more, my son.”
His voice cracks,
“I can only imagine the things you yourself have suffered… the trials you’ve gone through…”
“Father, how I’ve missed you!” Telemachus exclaims, no longer able to hold back his tears.
“Telemachus…” Odysseus cups his son’s face in his calloused hands. He feels the tears run down his cheeks.
“…I’m finally home.”
Telemachus throws his arms around his father, making him stumble backward with the force of it. Odysseus holds him dearly—tightly enough that no man dead nor alive could unclasp his grip on the boy.
He’s home.
They embrace, heads on each other's shoulders. Telemachus grips his tunic tightly and softly sobs into his father’s shoulder.
I watch from a ways back, feeling my own tears faintly roll.
Unbeknownst to me, Alekos and a guard had come to stand in the doorway to the aftermath.
My friend joins me and puts a hand on my shoulder. He keeps it there as a token of comfort and watches with me.
After some time, they part.
Odysseus finally takes notice of me and his servant.
“Tell my wife I’m home.” He kindly directs Alekos,
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
He watches as he and the guard depart for Penelope’s room. He looks at me, then gives a questioning look to Telemachus.
“Oh—!” Telemachus exclaims, a tad flustered that he’d forgotten my presence in the past couple minutes spent catching up. He stumbles over his words,
“That’s my friend Lyra…I’m sure you saw.. Um,” he rambles. He’s not sure how to navigate his reunion with Odysseus AND the whole word-vomit confession bullshit from earlier.
“...saw her fighting by my side—She made sure mother was safe too! I’d love for you both to meet properly,” he says.
Odysseus nods and gives me a small and genuine smile—the kind that seems to know something.
“I would love to. You two seem… close.”
He shares the same look with Telemachus. He ruffles his hair lightly and goes forth to the bed chambers, leaving us alone in the middle of the large room.
Tlemeachus turns red and looks away, then he takes a moment to really take in the aftermath of it all…
There’s red running out of necks, stomachs; everything. Men filled with holes and gashes litter the palace. His blush from earlier faded quickly as he was reminded of where he is and what carnage there is.
We mutually decided to walk silently through the palace to see what kind of shape we’d left the other rooms.
Some of the men lay on top of one another. In some areas, there are fewer wasted than in others.
In the great hall, you can faintly hear drops of blood slowly hit the floor, echoing throughout, tapping rhythmically. There’s thick puddles of it; and some messy hand prints. Gore has found its way into every corner of the room,
I’m in awe, just taking it all in…. It’s almost… arousing.
What had previously been a boisterous hall of drunken, loudmouth wannabe rapists and killers and is now a sullen and hollowed room.
We stand there close together and mesmerized by the sight in front of us… There’s no longer any kind of threat. And with Odysseus home, I doubt there will be any of the likes again.
The air smells metallic. You can almost taste it. The room is full of a thick and heavy feeling.
I look at Telemachus.
His clothes are entirely ruined with blood—as are mine—His chiton has tears, revealing skin and mild wounds… which I’m sure I’ll be fixing later.
My eyes follow the string of rips in his tunic, taking in the exposed bits of his chest and thighs.
Fucking hell.
His skin is splattered; blood drips from some of his own injuries too.
Thanks to the high from the whole ordeal, he can’t feel the pain at this point even if he wanted to.
I reach out hesitantly to trace one of his wounds through the torn fabric to test how bad it is and get a better feel for it. His body tenses at my touch.
I look at him, worrying about the injury at first— until I see his expression isn’t one contrived of pain.
His pupils are blown and his complexion is completely flushed. His breathing has gotten significantly heavier with the contact.
Fucking hell.
The leftover adrenaline flows heavily in my bloodstream…I feel warmth rushing between my legs; and I feel myself losing my mind.
Telemachus’ hand twitches open—a tell that he’s feeling anxious or antsy—or maybe something else. I don’t think it’s anxiety, but… excitement.
I know that tic is not nerves from the killing.
There it is. There’s that tension in his body.
SMUT WARNING
I quietly look at his tremored hand knowing what’s going through his head is exactly what’s going through mine; and when I look at his face… He’s hardly the same sweet, innocent, sometimes sheepish boy that I know and love. This is someone I hadn’t yet met… But someone I’d love to get to know.
My heartbeat is thumping so loudly in my ears that I wonder if he can hear it... Or feel it in my touch—my hand hasn’t moved from him— it’s planted in place.
The silence between us is deafening.
I take in the way his chest rises and falls prominently… how his eyes are darker, how his lips part.
I can barely hear it, but his breath starts to quiver as he takes in shaky inhales.
Our eyes are locked—both of us are waiting.
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly puts his hand on mine and presses it into his chest.
It’s enough.
I crash my lips into his.
He doesn’t even consider hesitating before he’s kissing me back heavy.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he grabs me by my hips with aggression, moving his lips in perfect tandem with mine.
His kiss is rough. Dripping with lust and need. He backs me into a gore covered pillar—making me groan desperately. My back arches into him as I moan into his mouth. He growls and tightens his grip on me in response.
He pulls the small of my back into him so that our bloody bodies are as pressed together as they can be.
He needs me.
Desperately, he pulls my tunic so that it’s bunched up right below my breasts. He slips his hand into my undergarments, all the while never letting his lips escape mine.
I shutter at the feeling.
“Fuck you’re wet,” he mumbles into my lips as his fingers start to massage my heat. His words are met with a moan as I buck my hips lightly as a means to get more friction.
I’m so turned on that any and every touch is extremely stimulating. Everything Telemachus does to me sends a chill down my spine.
He plays with my clit, trailing his fingers up and down, teasing me with such a slow pace.
I whimper, needing more.
His response is to sharply push me further into the cold pillar to get a better angle. He teases a fingertip into my entrance. Before the frustrated groan could even pass my lips, he shoves two fingers inside me.
“Fu—Fuck!” I cry out.
He buries them deep, twisting and turning roughly, his actions determined to please me. His face is in my neck, leaving wet kisses and love bites.
I squeal in pleasure as he hits my g-spot. His fingers glide in and out of me, pushing in and up, causing the pressure to build.
He presses into my body more, begging to get closer and feel every inch of my soft skin. I shove him off me and grab his tunic before I tear it off. Leaving only his undergarments on him.
“Take this shit off of me,” I demand.
His smile is borderline sinister as he heeds my words. Gods I’ve never seen him this way, it’s so strange… but damned if it doesn't do something terrible to me.
Both of us make quick work of our clothes. Telemachus grabs me with possession as he picks me up and carries me to Antinous’s body.
He lays me down across the man and forces his lips onto mine in a sloppy, hard kiss.
He rips off the last of my small clothes.
Telemachus throws aside his undergarments as well in one fluid motion. I finally get to see him for the first time…
And by the gods…
He’s huge.
In my daydreams of him, he definitely had some length to him… but gods, I didn’t expect that kind of girth.
The way he’s looking at me…
He’s needy… so, so needy.
With my permission, he’d lined himself up now. I bite my lip wondering if I should say anything…
“Do you want this?” He asks, trying to hide the urgency in his voice so I don’t feel any pressure to say yes.
“Tel,” I start breathlessly, “Do you remember that conversation we had about our sex lives…?”
It had been a conversation from maybe a year ago, I forget how it came up. But I do remember how shy he got about it.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he smiles sheepishly, his demeanor faltering.
I whimper at the feeling of him still being so close to fucking me. My body is hardly able to take my arousal,
“…I’m still a virgin.”
He stops for a moment, then his eyes soften.
He’s glad that I’ve taken him as the one to give my innocence to… He’s happy that we get to figure this out together—He’d always hoped his first time would be with me.
“I am too…” he admits a bit embarrassed.
“In all honesty…I was holding out for you… You think there wasn’t a reason I never took my mother’s options for me seriously?” He rests his forehead on mine,
“She’s not the only one who’s good at stalling~”
He says, moving to kiss my neck gently.
I take my hand to where I know he wants it the most and stroke him slowly. I feel him shutter against me.
“You’re a problem,” I chuckle.
“You make me want you too badly.”
Telemachus removes himself from the crook of my neck to look into my eyes.
“Would you like me to stop teasing?”
“Absolutely. But—can we start out slower? Just until I can adjust?”
He places a kiss on my forehead,
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. The last thing I want is to hurt you.” He reassures me and places a single kiss on my lips.
“We can stop entirely if it’s too much.”
“Fuck no– I can take you. I don’t care how long we need to make it happen,” I say, extremely determined.
His expression is soft–which is a stark contrast to our surroundings. One of the hands he’s propped up on is in a pool of Antinous’ blood.
He nods, knowing I’m too stubborn to not try.
He crawls over my body, falling back into the disposition he’d set aside previously. His eyes take in my body like a predator.
For a few strokes, he teases my pussy. Tracing my clit. He wants to make me as wet as possible for a painless entry.
He eases the tip in ever-so-slowly—studying my face for signs of discomfort—so far so good.
My face is flushed and my body is aching. He can see it…he knows I need it.
He pushes in with an inch or two.
I can’t hide my wince as much as I’d like to.
He carefully pushes in another inch. Even with how wet I am, a hiss of pain escapes me.
He stills.
“Hey, hey… look at me,” he whispers, his eyes are more nurturing.
In tracing his thumb on my cheek, he accidentally smears some blood on the spot—he ignores it though as I don’t seem to care.
“I’m gonna play with you a little, see if we can’t get you a little more ready for me, yeah?” He offers with a comforting smile.
I nuzzle my face into his shoulder.
“Please…I want to keep going…”
Switching to his clean hand, he applies light pressure to my clit, rubbing circles with intention on the right spot he’d found effortlessly somehow.
He does this for a while, listening to my whimpers and moans for clues on how he should touch me.
I’m well wet now.
He looks at me to ask if it’s okay.
I respond by putting my hands around his neck as a brace.
He carefully attempts a few inches again. It’s quite a bit easier—But I’m still tensed in anticipation and he realizes this. He kisses me and plays with me to loosen the pressure.
He leans in into my ear, “You’re doing so well~”
I smile, still squirming a little bit as he pulls back and pushes maybe three more inches in. I kiss him and hold him tight; then there’s more pain.
“Breathe, love….” He strokes my hair reassuringly.
He eases another inch or two in and feels my body seize.
“Do you want to stop?” He asks with clear concern.
“NO!” I say quickly, giving him no time to argue.
He knows it hurts…He considers the options…
“Maybe you just need to be more lubricated…” Telemachus trails off.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BLOOD KINK stop reading here if it’s too freaky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He takes his hand to the still weeping hole in Antinous’ neck. He holds up two fingers coated in the liquid in front of his face, observing the consistency. He looks at me expectantly.
I stare at his fingers with wide eyes.
He spoons some more into his hand and coats his cock in it—applying some to my pussy— fingering its way inside me and making me groan and shiver.
Under his watchful eyes, my body relaxes, responding well to his touch.
He fingers me with care, getting rougher when he can tell it’s what I want. Once he has 4 fingers deep inside, he knows I’m ready.
“Are you—?”
I nod, eyes fluttered shut,
“Please~”
He gets the first two inches in with ease, no painful reaction from me. In fact, by the way I’m clenching around his dick, he knows I really don’t mind.
He smiles contentedly. He sees the way I’ve begun bucking my hips in a trance of need, clearly the pain has been replaced with full on desire now. He watches as I allow most of his length. “You’re almost full—Do you want me all the way in?”
“Yesss~” I breathe, there’s no pain anymore; pleasure is all I know.
He beams at me, then pulls back, and enters me fully until he hits a wall.
Again he pulls back—almost all the way out before pushing his cock inside of me as far as possible. I moan at the feeling of having my tight pussy filled so completely.
“You like that don’t you?” Telemachus grins,
I bite my lips and close my eyes.
He realizes he can move a little faster. His confidence increases as my continued groans of pleasure escape me.
He growls in my ear with a Cheshire smile,
“You like using all that blood to get yourself nice and wet so you can be stuffed properly?”
His thrusts are growing to be especially hard, knowing I can take it rough.
All I can do is moan in response to his filthy words.
He nips at my ear, breath making me quiver,
“Love feeling me up in your guts?”
“If you don’t fuck me harder I swear to Zeus—~“
He immediately gives me what I want and begins slamming into my body violently.
He pulls out and flips me around, pushing me so that my face is down and my ass is up. He grabs my hips like they’re handles and pulls me into him harshly, exchanging his prior grip for one that pulls my hair. My head is forced up while my back has no choice but to arch against him.
I realize that I’m dripping down my thighs.
He fucks me brutally.
My eyes roll back in ecstasy and I pull myself so my weight is on my hands—which are on either side of the Antinous—making me curve into Telemachus’s chest. He pulls my hair harder so I’m even more bent into him, he leans into my ear and whispers,
“Come on…come on…~”
I growl and nuzzle my face into his from where he’s hunched over and pounding me harder.
My moans turn into pants and huffs,
I make my hips meet his with every move.
“Take it like a good girl~ that’s it~”
He fucks me until I’m completely ruined—my hair is disheveled and my sounds are coming out more primal than anything human—he’s ramming into my cervix.
He grips my chin in his blood stained hand. By now he’s left so many bloody fingerprints on me you can almost see every single spot he’s laid his hands.
“Mmpfh~!!”
My moans have turned into cries with his ruthless pace. The entire hall echoes with the sound of his body hitting mine. My cries and his grunts join in the symphony.
Holy shit that alone has me on the edge.
“Telemachus—fuck—“
“Come on sweetheart~ come on~” He feels himself getting close but he’s determined to make me to cum first.
His movements have to have some sort of divine influence because there’s no way in hades that he can keep going harder and harder like this. I’m just about at my breaking point.
Then I feel his warm breath against my ear.
“Cum for me, love~”
That last word does me in.
I fall apart almost instantaneously, feeling ecstasy I’ve never imagined possible.
I tighten around him and cry out as my orgasm takes a hold of me.
That was all it took for his to hit him.
He pulls out just in time to turn me on my back cum on my quivering stomach.
The warmth of it only adds to the rippling pleasure that’s overtaken me. My moans turn into whimpers as my energy depletes.
Telemachus lays down next to me, not letting his embrace with me fail. We stay like that for a moment, exhausted and satisfied. He turns his head to look at me, still trying to catch his breath, his grin spans his rosey cheeks.
“You seemed to really enjoy that~”
I hardly try to contain my laughter,
“Shut up~” I say as he presses a soft kiss to my mouth
Overall story tropes: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual and occasional smut/PWP, fluff
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
Athena guides Telemachus in the darkness, allowing him the vision to see through the blackened hallways that Odysseus had already breached.
There are only a few stray men still running. They knock themselves into the corners of the winding walls in their haste—only to be met by the prince’s blade.
In the distance, he hears cries of pain. Spurred on by gripping fear, he burns a path through the halls.
Thank the gods.
As he gets closer, relief washes over him as he realizes the screams don’t belong to his mother nor Lyra.
He carries out attacks skillfully through the hallway, taking down any man he crosses. He’s about to skewer another, but a blade from behind beats him to it.
The suitor drops to the ground.
“ You’re safe,” Telemachus breathes.
“You expect less of me?” I smirk, flicking the waste off my sword.
“Mother’s okay?” He asks more seriously.
I confirm,
“Of course. Her gate is locked and well-guarded. The men are done for.”
Telemachus gives me a reflective gesture and sees Alekos a ways back behind me. He nods to him in acknowledgement, signaling for him to hold his post.
“My father’s back. He’s here,” Telemachus says with resolution.
He grabs my hand.
“Come on.”
Together we weave through the trail of bodies we’ve slain, making our way from room to room.
Every single one is locked.
Any remaining suitors fall dead at our feet.
We find direction by way of choked screams in the distance.
There they are.
We came to realize that the weapons room was left unlocked.
This was no accident.
Odysseus knew this would be a means to lure them in.
He planned to bait them by leaving their weapons in the unsupervised room— allowing them to think they’d stand a chance.
Once the first man found the arsenal, he knew the rest would follow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Telemachus and I fly through the entrance to the room—Slicing necks and severing arteries and limbs.
The scene we walk into is a ruthless one.
Odysseus brutally murders men at a terrifying rate.
Our foes and their appendages decorate the marbled floor. You’d never know it was white.
Arrows have been shot in numerous vital areas of the body, killing the victims after what were likely fleeting moments of excruciating pain. He is cruel, yet efficient.
He’s so light on his feet he’s practically weightless.
He shoots with sadistic accuracy, through heads, into eye sockets, and even through the hanging mouths of the assailants.
Seamlessly, he switches between sword and bow, favoring the latter. When he’s not single-shooting them, he carves the men like a butcher does a pig, a fitting punishment.
Telemachus and I tear ourselves away from the spectacle… we don’t have time to gawk.
We decide covering more ground by splitting up in the giant room is the best idea.
With the weapons at the suitors’ disposal, our efforts are slowed–and more challenged. Make no mistake though, this doesn’t mean we fold under the pressure.
In Telemachus’s corner, the men have decided he’s their means to victory. A large group of them surround him, calling to one another,
“GET THE PRINCE!” Someone grabs him before Telemachus slices his arm off and yells,
“STOP THIS! YOU CAN STILL WALK IF YOU YIELD!”
The suitors ignore his offer,
“HOLD HIM DOWN! HES OUTNUMBERED!”
“DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS” he exclaims.
One gets him in a chokehold.
Athena directs him in a flash.
He escapes and cleaves the man’s carotid.
He continues to stay impressively strong as strikes hurdle his way—multiple men grab at him.
Staving them off becomes harder and harder. Telemachus falters; one slip-up was all it took.
A dozen hands take him to the ground.
~~~~~~~
By now, red has stained my skin and chiton—which has lost its himation in the fight.
Ares keeps my breathing consistent and my stamina high.
His quick-thought makes it so much easier to strategize.
I realize how grateful I am to him for his aid.
However, the thought is interrupted.
I become aware that the suitors nearby are turning to run the other way… but they aren’t retreating.
I see them funneling toward Telemachus—he’s knocked down. They’ve seized their opportunity.
Fuck
I beeline to him, fatally—or damn near fatally—cutting everyone in my path, dodging blows. I slide between the legs of men, lacerating them as I go. My sword clangs with blocked attacks as I move.
In my absence, the bastards wrestle Telemachus to his knees. They twist his arms behind his back, forcing him to cry out sharply.
“Got you ~”
“DON’T!”
He shouts.
The suitor holding his arms twists them further.
The prince gasps loudly in pain.
Another gets behind him.
“Let’s make him suffer..” the pig says with a skin-crawling smile.
The man raises his blade above the boy’s held wrists—
*ACK—*
He coughs blood, eyes turning cold already.
Telemachus’s eyes widen as he looks down at the man’s chest. Through it is the end of a sword, just about as far as it can go.
“Mer-mer…”
Musters the man as he falls to his knees—revealing Odysseus to be his killer.
“ Mercy ?” He says with humorful anger.
“MERCY?”
The suitors flee in every direction trying to escape. Many flock to the gate.
Once more, the door is locked.
Odysseus smiles darkly, exchanging his sword for his bow.
“You’ve no chance at mercy— ”
One by one, he picks them off. His eyes gleam, enthralled by every dropping body.
He notches arrow after arrow.
“—And I’m going to enjoy watching the light die from every.”
*thwap*
”Last.”
*thwap*
“One of you.”
A petrifying smile breaks on The Old King’s face. He cackles loud enough that everyone still alive in the room can hear it.
He turns men to corpses in seconds, ruthlessly stomping them out.
He takes two decades worth of anger out on the remaining men. Shanking some with arrows and stabbing them repeatedly as the blood spurts onto his face.
I‘ve sprinted to where Telemachus is sitting dumbfounded.
Overall story tropes: Telemachus x reader/oc, slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut/PWP,
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1:
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
The suitors grow impatient at Penelope’s challenge.
No one has even gotten the chance to loose an arrow.
They aren’t strong enough to curve the bow backward and get anywhere near stringing it.
It’s getting late, well into the night. It’s a dark, moonless one. Torches light the way of the halls.
Antinous is enraged. Not even the strongest men have mustered the power to come close to accomplishing the endeavor.
Finally, the time has come to try his hand. He’s cocky.
The anger has subsided once he’s calmed himself by reviewing the facts:
He knows he’s leagues above these men.
Everyone before him was merely too weak. Too void of resolve.
But not Antinous.
Convinced of his preconceived win,
He plucks the bow. It’s curved in the opposite direction that it would need to be in order to be strung. It’s a hard pull.
He tries to use the corners of the walls as an anchor; and even greases it. Nothing.
“This shit is rigged!”
He throws the weapon down, running a hand through his sweat-ridden hair.
“Screw this. It’s time we stop sitting around and take matters into our own hands. What are we to do, let the crown play us any longer? I say we strike now!”
The suitors cheer in agreement, knocking mugs of ale against one another’s.
They’ve been held back far too long. Now is their time
Ares shakes his in disgust at we observe.
My breath hitches and I feel Telemachus’s hand rest on the handle of his sword as we anticipate a coup.
I speak up,
“I’ll ensure Penelope’s safety and find you afterward.” I assert as I white knuckle my weapon.
We have to act fast.
“Agreed.” He says steadfastly.
With that, Ares and I embark on our journey to Telemachus’s mother’s chambers, sneaking quickly along the walls and into the long hallways.
“Now is not the time for hesitation. Put on that helmet.” Athena says telepathically as she fades behind Telemachus, readying him into a state of quick-thought.
“Understood.” Telemachus grits.
As Telemachus starts to devise his strategy, Athena stops him, pausing his thoughts. He looks at her questioningly, then follows her gaze.
Their weapons are missing. The suitors were too busy drinking and moping to see it.
Not only that,
A beggar has emerged from behind the crowd of men. He’s cut to the front of the line where the bow lays.
The old man is rough and weak with age from the looks of him. Grimy and wrinkled.
The suitors process his appearance and laugh.
“What kind of wasted are you, old man?” Antinous laughs.
“You think you have the gull to play us? Should I be offended?”
Wordlessly, the old man picks up the bow. Stringing it effortlessly.
He aims as if honing the bow is second nature.
Immediately he lets the arrow loose.
It’s a clean shot. All the way through.
The suitors are shocked. Out of everyone, an old man can do the impossible?
…No…
“It’s the old king…It’s Odysseus!!”
Antinous bellows.
The realization hits Telemachus like a ton of bricks.
In an instant, Odysseus turns around and lets another arrow fly.
*THWAP *
Antinous falls dead, an arrow shot clean through his throat.
Odysseus’s disguise recedes and his voice comes out thunderous, echoing in the stunned silence.
“Twenty years,” He starts.
“TWENTY. Years. And this is what I’ve come home to?” He stands tall, voice booming.
“A defiled palace and sad excuses for men filling my halls?”
He looks across the room, barrels overturned. Tables ajar. Ale spills and empty mugs strewn about.
Then he looks at the pitiful men. Arrogant. Loud. Devilish.
“Don’t think I haven’t heard your words and whispers,”
He speaks from beneath a hood, eyes deadly.
“You wished to kill my son? To rape my wife?”
The chuckle he lets out is enough to freeze blood.
“ I. Have had. Enough.”
He takes off without another word.
Moving with ungodly speed, he knocks out the torches in the room, effectively leaving everyone in the dark. Some frantically flee for the gate— these are the men who know what kind of threat they’re up against.
It’s locked.
Terrified, they scatter, threading their way through the halls. Most of them chase the likes of those who are already after Odysseus—who has a head start killing the remaining lights of the palace.
Telemachus—still in shock—leaps into action. He sprints toward the halls, determined to ensure that the men don’t reach his mother and Lyra.
~~~~~
Even though Penelope is safeguarded by the sentries with her door locked, the men come running with lit torches. If they can turn Her Majesty into a hostage, surely they can win.
A few fight their way past the guards, letting the others pass while beating the sentries to the floor.
Amidst this, Alekos manages himself well. He surprises both me and himself with how naturally he takes to a sword. Despite this fact, a handful of men slip by.
The suitors come to a halt in front of me.
There’s fleeting laughter from multiple men,
“They chose a girl to protect The Queen? Is this a joke?” They scoff with smirks on their stupid faces.
I smile widely—eyes reddening as Ares’s power surges through me. I correct my stance and ready my sword wordlessly.
With no inhabitants, I carve through suitor after suitor. Defenseless, they make futile efforts to retreat.
Much to The God of War’s approval, I strike most of the men in places where they’ll bleed out the most. It’s effective.
And merciless.
Bodies drop as I charge into them with both graceful and brutish tactics.
I don’t even need to make harsh cuts. Half the time it only takes a precise swing through the stomach to spill a man’s guts.
I take pleasure in their screams as they realize their fates.
I can feel that Ares relishes this too.
I keep my attacks fervent.
“I must say, you’re not too terrible.” He mutters gruffly.
Chapter warning: Brief mentions of plans of rape (as in the cannon)
Tropes: Telamchus x reader/oc Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut and fluff, eventual bloody smut hehe~
Chapter synopsis:
Story synopsis: Find here in Chapter 1 ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
Meanwhile, the mob has become violent; the sentries are outnumbered. A few of the suitors have already torn a couple down, urging the other men to follow suit.
“SILENCE.” Penelope commands, to no avail this time.
She tries again, raising her voice,
“VERY WELL--I SHALL CHOOSE A KING… TODAY.”
This time, her words reach.
The suitors contemplate… then comply.
Sated with her submission, the men pause their brawl.
“I have prepared a challenge,”
Penelope is composed, despite what’s unfolding in front of her.
“Whoever can string my husband's bow—shooting an arrow through 12 axe heads—will take the crown.”
The men look hesitant.
They don’t want another setback.
However, a realization strikes them simultaneously.
They can’t all be king. Once they overtake Penelope, what then?
Without determining which man would be crowned, it’d end in piles of bodies.
She takes their silence as an answer.
“Very well. I’ll have the servants set everything up. While they do, choose who amongst yourselves will go first.”
Penelope says as she is escorted away by the guards and Alekos.
~~~~~~~
In a moment, I sneak back to Telemachus’s side.
He breaks his stare at the mob to make sure I get to him safely.
“What did Alekos tell you?”
The angry pit in my stomach grows heavy again,
“They’re planning to murder you… and—rape your mother, at any moment. They won't be distracted long.”
He’s silent, but I can read the unadulterated anger burning in his eyes. So much of it floods him that he can’t speak. The crease in between his eyebrows deepens.
“He wants me to flee the palace when things get too dangerous. I appreciate his concerns; but I’m not doing that.”
He stills for a second, considering sternly.
“Lyra, I know you’re a challenging opponent, but some of these monsters are big men—“
I cross my arms at his resistance,
“You say this as if you haven’t challenged the likes of them before.”
He knows that he has, he does. But he also knows our one-on-one training is not on the same level as cutting through 108 men at once.
“And I admit to that, but this. Is. Deadly. DEADLY deadly. If I die protecting my mother that’s how I want to go. That’s my personal conviction—“
“Telemachus.” I interrupt.
“If not for my queen and my dearest friend, what is truly worth fighting for?”
“You can stay alive for your mother.” He states strictly.
That shakes my resolve a little bit,
She’d already lost one loved one, I don’t know if she could handle another…
“Then we have no choice but to win.”
“Lyra…— ”
He pleads with me.
“We’ll be wise about this. We need to find a way to separate them so we half their chances.”
He shakes his head and takes my hand to try to let me feel how strong his stance is on this.
“I’m serious, Lyra. It’s fucking dangerous—”
“Telemachus you can’t stop me. My mind is made up.”
He drops my hand and crosses his arms, growing frustrated.
“I’m telling you you can’t stay here”
“Yes, I can. And I WILL.”
“NO, you won’t! I’m not going to fucking lose you, Lyra!”
My irritation fails with the emotion in his tone as he stifles a shout—I’m taken aback. I’ve never see him so serious.
“Please…”
His voice cracks.
“…Telemachus… I don’t know how to convince you.” I say quietly,
“Ithaca needs its prince and queen alive. Do you want the suitors to overtake the kingdom?” My expression is softer but more serious,
“…I can’t lose you. And refuse to. I’d rather die by your side than have you be killed and have to say I did nothing to stop it.”
I say finding my own voice breaking.
He stares at me with eyes filled with defeat.
“…I can’t convince you, can I?”
“No. You can’t.”
“—I hate to interrupt,”
Startled, we find Athena in our midst. We were too involved in our argument to see that the goddess had materialized.
She’s got to stop making surprise entrences like this
“I’ve never had to call in this many favors…” she pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly not enjoying her newfound debt to the gods she’s had to petition.
From behind her, Ares appears.
“I was promised bloodshed. Decided I wouldn’t mind getting a front-row seat.” He says with a hearty chuckle,
“Wasn’t a hard pitch to make.” He scoffs.
“The odds are in our favor.”
I see Telemachus has brightened up a bit, seemingly decided, but still cautious. I grin from ear to ear.
Chapter synopsis: Takes place during “Odysseus”. Ody is on his way to kill the leaches that have overtaken his palace, Telemachus and you are trying desperately to devise a plan in the meantime.
Story Tropes: Telamchus x reader/oc Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut and fluff, eventual bloody smut hehe~
Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
Still donning our sparring armor as we arrive at the palace, we’re greeted by 108 men all shouting at once.
The guards have barred the platform of the throne where Penelope stands.
“WE DEMAND YOU CHOOSE A KING, NOW!”
One angry man spits,
“CHOOSE!”
“IF YOU DON'T WE’LL TAKE THE THRONE FOR OURSELVES—“
“ENOUGH.”
Penelope snaps—totally outside of her typical graceful demeanor. Her booming voice bounces off the walls of the atrium.
A silence falls on the crowd.
She clears her throat, returning to her usual disposition.
“Now that I finally have your attention,”
The Queen continues, attempting to keep the mob at bay with her commanding tone,
“Tomorrow I’ll prepare a challenge for my hand. By the end of the day, one of you shall take your place on the throne as the King of Ithaca.” She decrees void of any readable emotion in her diction.
“WE WON'T WAIT!” One of the suitors calls out, beginning to rally the crowd again.
Antinous stands with the men at the front; a glint in his eye as he finds The Queen’s gaze.
“If you don’t choose a man, we’ll take exactly what we want from you…”
His threat stands out from the shouts of the others.
Penelope merely smiles at him.
She’s not scared.
She’s pissed.
While we watch intently, I’m situated beside Telemachus at the edge of the crowd. I awkwardly hold my hands clasped in front of my body.
Currently, I’m trying to focus on what Penelope is saying and not on the tension of being pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Telemachus. I stare straight ahead. My thoughts and my stomach are twisting with all kinds of feelings.
Let's see how many I can name:
One. Fear. Fear for Penelope’s safety and Telemachus’s; and for the fight we’re anticipating.
Two. Anxiety; and impatience. He and I haven’t concluded our little conversation after Poseidon’s interruption. There’s so much I want to say... But the time is far from right.
Three. I’m enraged at the suitors. No. Rage is too kind. I’m just about ready to drive my blade into the back of any given man in an instant. And honestly? I can’t wait to.
Four. Grief.
I find myself grieving my father for a second time.
I’m also anxious for Telemachus and his reunion with his own kin. I pray that Odysseus is everything that he’s imagined. But.. at the same time… I’ve had no father return to me today. Not even in an urn.
For that, I feel a fifth thing.
Jealousy.
I’m fighting the urge to look at Telemachus and try to read his mind.
The air around us is so tangibly tense you could cut it with a knife. There’s a shared understanding that our feelings are not a priority right now… even while the effects of his confession have an iron grip on us.
I do notice something out of the corner of my eye though.
Next to me, Telemachus is clenching and unclenching his fist.
It’s a nervous tic I’ve taken notice of ages ago. His whole body is ridged.
He’s violently aware that the suitors are at their breaking point.—
But so are we.
Penelope is trying to buy more time and I know it. All three of us do. And damned if we don’t need it to devise a plan.
We’re incredibly outnumbered by 108 power-hungry men, many of whom are pushing twice my size.
I don’t like these odds.
On a far wall, I notice our friend Alekos.
He's been trying to catch my eye; he subtly gestures for me to come to him
I look to see if Telemachus has noticed. He hasn’t.
His vision is narrowed, skimming every move of the suitors with keen eyes.
I gently tap his hand; he snaps out of it.
I tilt my head toward Alekos.
He looks at me and then the men, then back at me.
“Go,” he whispers with understanding. He’s holding his post.
I nod, slipping quietly along the outskirts of the crowd.
I make my way to Alekos.
He silently greets me as I join him.
“They’re insatiable.” He mumbles, staring into the herd of suitors.
“That’s an understatement.” I hiss.
“I’ve heard what they’ve been planning,” he says, keeping a watchful eye on Telemachus and Penelope,
“They’re coordinating a detailed scheme to kill the Prince—“
My jaw tightens. I know of their threats, but now they have the means and proper motive to commit such a crime.
“And— they plan on taking The Queen.”
His words are quiet and bone-chilling as he speaks,
“They want to force an heir upon her… and attempt to defile the king’s wedding bed.”
“By the gods…”
I whisper,
“I shouldn’t have assumed any less…”
Alekos nods grimly,
“Odysseus can’t be far. And Queen Penelope has also devised a plan...”
He says with confidence; it then turns to grave concern.
“I’ve volunteered to take up a sword and join the sentries in The Majesties' protection. However… when things go wrong, we need to get you out as quickly as possible.”
I shake my head, arms crossed watching the scene in front of me.
“I’m not leaving. All we need to do is stall just a little longer.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile,
Odysseus works his way through the back end of the village, chasing the distant palace. His hair is a long, mangy mess, and his beard is overgrown. The calloused man is still sopping wet, disheveled, and determined.
That’s exactly how Athena finds him.
“10 years is a long time, old friend, I hardly recognized you~”
His strides falter as she smiles down, floating beside him. The Divine hadn’t aged a day.
“Athena?”
“Odysseus~”
He's stunned for a moment, however he's quick to remember his mission.
He focuses his pace on the palace again.
“I need to see Penelope.”
“That you do. But you can only stay in the shadows for so long. Let me lend you a hand…”
He raises an eyebrow in interest,
“What did you have in mind?”
Athena hums.
“Hold still, just for a moment,” she says.
She grants him an elaborate disguise, exchanging his clothes for more ragged and plain robes; aging his skin, lengthening his bread.
It’s unsuspecting, he’ll be able to slip by easily.
“We have much to catch up on. Go. Get to your wife and son.”
Story type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut and fluff, eventual bloody smut hehe~
Synopsis found in Chapter One here ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
“No— LYRA . That’s fucking Poseidon !!” Telemachus exclaims with a furrowed look of shock and borderline horror.
No living generation in Ithaca has ever seen Poseidon in person. And now he’s here...And he’s brought a threatening storm with him.
Why would he come to Ithaca?
Is he going to wipe us out…?
Gods knows he’s more than capable.
He manipulates the weather around him. Waterspouts descend from the clouds; more violent cracks of lightning strike.
Savage waves are rising and falling; walls of them spring up—standing—almost as if waiting…
A large whirlpool has developed in the center of it all.
It’s unlike anything we’d ever seen—and Poseidon stands dozens and dozens of feet tall in the middle of it… But he’s not facing our island.
I pull myself upright, trying to see through the pouring rain and brewing waves.
Inside the now massive whirlpool is a small, poorly made raft.
Huh. Well that’s interesting.
“I’m going to get a closer look—“
Telemachus states while he starts down the hill, nearly tripping over himself as he chases the beach so we can get a better view. I follow not far behind.
It’s so hard to see what’s going on with the raft… and what appears to be a man on it? We’re as close as we can be to the spectacle, but it’s not quite enough given our conditions. However, we see the watery form of the god just fine with his size.
We watch as Poseidon and a surge of absolutely towering waves wipe out the raft and swallow the man.
His raft is obliterated by the waves and he goes completely under…
He doesn’t return.
After a moment, I look to Telemachus. He shakes his head and turns to head back. He pats my shoulder to signal that it’s over for the poor soul and that it’s time for us to leave.
Then—out of nowhere,
We hear what sounds and looks like a geyser?
We snap our heads to the horizon again.
The man didn’t die.
The person shoots out of the waves and jet packs at Poseidon. He weaves expertly through every wall and water spout the god throws at him. He repeatedly flies into Poseidon and creates tears through the water.
Suddenly the giant watery personification of poseidon bursts at the combined force of the hits and the rains into the ocean. His true, human-like form crashes down onto a platform of rock that’s revealed amongst the storm.
Both Telemachus and I stare with wide eyes and slacked jaws at the power of the unknown man.
The storm begins to die and we get a better look at what’s playing out in front of us.
The man and Poseidon appear to be talking
—or more likely arguing. Poseidon lays backed against part of the rock, looking to be injured?
The mysterious man picks up something shiny from the ground. A trident.
He waits there for a moment, then we see him lift Poseidon's trident.
Oh damn
He stabs him.
Over
And over
And over.
Telemachus squints with the dissipation of the storm.
He cocks his head with furrowed brows.
“Those are royal robes—is that my father..?” The realization hasn’t taken its toll yet. Then it hits him.
“What the fu— HOLY FUCK THAT’S MY FATHER!“
I tear my attention to Telemachus,
“ODYSSEUS IS ALIVE!? AFTER 20 YEARS AND AFTER PISSING OFF POSEIDON?”
He throws his hands up in defensive protest,
“I never met the man!! I didn’t know he’s fucking CRAZ—whAT THE FUCK—?!”
Telemachus nearly jumps out of his skin as he notices Athena’s been watching from beside us for gods knows how long.
She surveys the king with a smug look on her face and her arms crossed as he continues to stab Poseidon.
Telemachus snaps his head to her,
“That’s my father! That’s him isn’t it?”
She half scoffs, half chuckles—
“It couldn’t be anyone else. He’s the only mortal both cunning and arrogant enough to give a god such a serious run for his money.”
Telemachus cocks his head and furrows his brows,
“Wait. You know my father personally?”
“You remember that friend of mine don’t you? It’s a long story, Little One.”
…
I’m lost in thought.
Despite my initial excitement, I’m suddenly very aware of the feelings brewing in my chest…
My stomach drops.
…It’s only Odysseus.
What happened to the other 600 men?
What happened to my father .
Telemachus’ mind has also been racing. So many realizations are flooding him at once. Among the whirlwind of thoughts, he realizes something.
“…if we can see that it’s my dad, what about—“
He turns back to the sea of men and women gawking around us on the beach. He knows that they’ve seen it too. He spots clusters of familiar men… And they all know. They know.
“ The suitors.”
All of us watch as Odysseus deals one final blow to Poseidon.
The two of them sit for a moment.
He removes the trident from Poseidon’s body as the storm is now entirely sated. Clouds roll back and dissolve into the blue sky.
He drops the trident, and looks like he says something to Poseidon—Then he walks away with no further resistance.
“Telemachus,” I say breathlessly.
I shake his shoulder until he looks away from the crowd behind us,
“Your dad just beat Poseidon…”
His expression is one of shock with undertones of pride, gazing out to the ocean.
“…Goddamn. He did…”
Athena looks satisfied at Odysseus from afar.
“That’s your father alright.”
Together, we see Poseidon yield, parting the waves as Odysseus runs toward our distant island. He disappears beyond the tall rocky terrain—out of view for us and the prying eyes of the suitors.
They mutter amongst themselves, stealing glances at Telemachus with sharp and calculating eyes. Athena’s darken.
I look at him determined.
“If the suitors get to your father before he gets to them he’s as good as dead… Do you see the way they’re whispering about you?” I say, keenly aware that they’re plotting against him.
Athena nods.
“It’s going to be dangerous… but I assure you, once Odysseus finds his way back to the palace, you stand a much greater chance.”
She places a confident hand on his shoulder.
“Everything I’ve taught you is at your disposal. You’re ready little wolf.”
The Blood We shed Chapter 6: Poseidon God of Cockblock
Chapter Rating: 16+ mild sexual references
Story Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut, eventual blood as lube hehe~
Synopsis: See chapter 1 ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
The place we always train at is an open area on the edge of the palace acres—It’s beautiful.
There’s trees surrounding us and wild flowers growing sporadically to line the edges of the clearing. It overlooks the rocks and tides of the beach. Deep blue waves dance with the bright sunlight. Birds of the beach can be heard from above; looking up, I notice the few clouds from earlier have dissolved into the air.
As I’ve said before, Telemachus and I have been sparring together since we were little.
In our preteen and teenage years—I’d been a ruthless little bastard. I’d almost always best him…Nowadays it’s a lot harder to hold him down.
Most of his training is now done with Athena. I don’t think Telemachus has gone a day without her mentorship since they’ve met.
Since my father left for the Trojan War about 20 years ago, my mother deemed swordsmanship an honorable and necessary skill for me to learn. There were two main reasons I’d learned—well maybe three.
One.
My father was a skilled swordsman… And when my favorite plaything at the ripe age of three years old was a wooden sword—my mother knew she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter.
Besides,
It filled her heart with pride to watch her daughter fight… she tells me I move just like my father.
Two.
The world is not kind; the men of this world are not kind. With no father to protect our homestead, I made it my mission to fill that void.
Honing a blade was as much a sentimental endeavor as it was a protective one. Though I may not carry at all times, the skill set is transferable with or without sword. I carry myself with confidence knowing I can hold my own. In turn, people don’t see me as a target. I know not to freeze in the face danger; know how to maneuver myself in any type of fight.
It may have been an unconventional pastime for the little girl my mother was raising…but I’ve always been my father’s daughter.
And the third reason why I started sparring…
It’s exhilarating.
I sit on a nearby rock, sharpening my sword.
“Tell me, has Athena taught you anything new?” I ask Telemachus as I look up from where I’m inspecting my blade.
He flashes a toothy grin at me, as he shadow-fences,
“She has, actually.” He goes for a jab at the air and backs away swiftly, paying special attention to his footwork.
“And you? Have you learned any new tricks I should be aware of?”
I lay my sword to rest in my lap, folding my arms, “I know better than to tell an opponent my secrets~”
He smirks at me,
“Fine. Keep your secrets then,” he points the tip of his sword in my direction, “just know regardless of what you have in your arsenal, you don’t stand a chance~”
“Cocky as ever I see,” I mock him as I stand to my feet and mirror his posture with my sword. “You know the rules, you hold your own, on your own. No divine intervention. Are you ready?”
His smirk widens, as he taps his sword to mine, confirming our start.
“You’re on!”
Right away, Telemachus takes a swing—ever one for an offensive start.
I predicted that.
I evade the move as he lunges for me, pivoting to elbow him in the back.
“FUCK-“ he coughs out as the force falls him.
He whips around, slicing the air and almost nicking me. I pull back, still on defense.
He carries out a series of combos, chasing me as I leap back from each one with impressive speed. On the last strike he leaves himself open, my sword meets his armor with a clang. I get him in the side while he was winding up for another strike.
He looks at where I’ve hit him, then back at me which adrenaline filled eyes,
“Nice one—”
He thrusts at me once more, just barely missing me.
“But you’ll have to try harder than that~”
One of my most valuable assets is my agility. I’m ready with every move I make, which is why my defense is on point. Just as well too, because Telemachus is a hard and tactful hitter.
I decide I’ve overplayed safeguarding, I need to move to an offensive position. I counter; he blocks it.
Thinking fast, I bait and switch. I catch the back of his knee and he falls to the ground.
I tower over him and point my blade in his face, using it to tilt his chin towards me. I mock him playfully,
“Easy~” I smirk.
“Baiting me is a cheap trick.” He huffs from his submissive position.
“But an effective one nonetheless!” I giggle, offering my hand.
I help him to his feet. He brushes himself off with one hand while his other retrieves his sword.
“Now who’s cocky?” He says playfully.
“Mmmmm…Two can play this game…”
This time, I launch at him, taking him off guard—He recovers and parries my next blow. Our swords clash as we engage in close combat, both of us having difficulty finding an in.
Back and forth, we counter each other's moves.
He drops to his knees in a flash—my swing goes over his helmet—effectively breaking the rally.
He lands a solid hit to my side before leaping to his feet and swiping my legs just as I’d done before to him.
He kicks my sword away from me, leaving me completely defenseless.
“Don’t you know pride cometh before the fall?” He smirks, leaning down to look at me—a little too cheekily for my taste.
“Ha! You got a lucky hit,” I smile devilishly.
From where he stands, I throw him down by hooking a leg around him and grabbing him by the shoulder. I bring him to the ground with me.
“THAT was skill.”
In an instant, he rolls on top of me. Straddling my hips and lays his palm on my face with splayed out fingers. It’s a dumb and cheeky move, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m rendered immobile.
“Dammit you bitch!” I yell from behind his hand.
“Haha~You were saying??”
I manage to pry his hand away while he’s still laughing at me. I bridge and thrust my hips up and forward while I grab his arm tightly into my body. Momentum betrays him as he falls into me. In a couple of quick moves, I roll us so I’m on top once more.
I grab his wrists and pin them.
I pant slightly through smiling lips, my efforts leaving me a bit winded. I lean closer to his flushed face. I can feel his breath on my own face as he tries to catch it.
“I believe I’ve won yet again~” I say with a dark, proud grin.
His eyes flick back and forth on mine, almost searching.
I think I even see him gulp— I notice that the haze of pink on his cheeks isn’t just from exertion…
“…fuck you.” he grumbles, hands pinned without resistance.
My eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, taking in his expression. He’s not being playful…but sheepish?
No I’m not reading it wrong…
Is he into this??
Fuck it
I’ll bite.
“Tel. The other day, when we talked about killing the suitors… were you trying to say something?”
I feel his body stiffen underneath mine,
“Wh…at do you mean?”
I release his hands and place mine on my thighs. That little blush on his face sends a certain feeling shooting down my spine… I’m suddenly *very* aware of where I’m sitting.
“The way you talked about me in your fantasy. I’ve been thinking about it— the way you described how I’d look. What’d you mean by your remarks?”
He wrings his wrists now that they’re free, using it as a distraction to divert his attention. He definitely recalls the slip ups he’d made in that conversation. He still refuses my gaze.
“Zeus, you have a tight grip you know—“
…No fucking way…
The bastard is flustered .
“Answer the question.” I push as I still sit atop him. My eyes scan his face trying to read any minute changes.
“…What do you suppose I meant?”
“I’m asking you.”
“What part are you asking about? We talked about a lot—“
My expression grows more exacerbated.
I’m starting to get tired of this game of cat and mouse, “It looks like you know what I’m talking about.”
“Please don’t make me do this, Lyra—“ he groans as he tries to squirm out from under me. I pin his wrists again, leaning in as I push them into the ground.
I put more demand into my voice,
“Do what, Telemachus?”
He squeezes his eyes shut in a hesitant mix of a cringe and grimace,
“Are you talking about how I said I’d love to see you covered in blood— when I said you’d look like a goddess—?“
“It seems like you do recall, yes.”
“I mean you would—! Why does there have to be a hidden meaning in—“
“Telemachus.” I say firmly, cutting off any more stalling.
“Fuck— fucking fine!!”
My grip on his wrists falls as he throws his hands up with admission.
“I meant you’d look beautiful, ok? Like fucking stunning.” He admits flustered, looking to the side yet again to avoid me.
For a moment, my withdrawn hands are frozen in front of me in response to his outburst… As I process what he’d just admitted, I slowly reach my hand to his cheek, gently turning his face to me.
He wills his eyes back to mine.
My face hides it but I can feel my pulse working overtime. I thought I’d caught my breath earlier but apparently not…
“…And what does that mean?”
He knows there’s no point in covering his ass. With a sharp sigh that’s shut up by a wince, he scrunches his face and spits it out,
“Goddamnit, Lyra— you’re PRETTY— I’m attracted to you! And I can’t tell you just how hard I’d have to hold myself back from you if our fantasies DID play out—You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to take you against that blood stained marble?!”
Every drop of blood in my face has either rushed to my cheeks or has completely paled me by draining from it.
His words come unfiltered, bursting the cork off all he’d been bottling up.
“Zeus, you’re strong and so goddamn stubborn and caring and have such a stupid smart mouth— I like you for fuck’s sake! And quite frankly I’m shocked you hadn’t figured that out yet—!!“ He blurts out, face extremely red and almost frustrated. His body tensed.
My eyes widen.
How long had it been that he’d kept this secret?
Had he touched himself to those daydreams too??
And to think we BOTH avoided all of this for so long?
We’re idiots.
I can’t muster more than one breathless word:
“ Fuck ...”
We’re both frozen…and highly aware that this is a pivotal point for what it means for our friendship… He opens his mouth to say something… Then bites his lip, almost afraid to speak.
“…Lyra. Please say something—“
I lean back from him slowly and stare at him,
I struggle to find my own words, I’m still too stunned to say anything. But I try to start…
“I—“
A ground-shaking crack of thunder interrupts me.
Out of nowhere, it begins pouring rain across the ocean waves. The once beaming sun is swallowed up by thick, rolling black clouds pooling at the coast. A ginormous figure formed of water stands among the storm and tides…
Telemachus pulls himself up, gently removing me to get a proper view.
He gently puts down his weapons and carefully makes his way across the room.
His face is the polar opposite of what it’d been. His eyes are still sunken and with dark circles around them…but They’re genuine.
Soft.
He lets down his hood.
“My son...” He states.
There’s no doubt in his voice,
No hesitation
He saw his own flesh and blood in the boy's bright brown eyes the moment he saw them.
“Father,”
His son says as those brown eyes of his shine with excitement and pricking tears.
Telemachus half-walks-half-runs to meet Odysseus in the middle. He stares in sheer disbelief of it all—He struggles to speak,
“…All my life I’d have died to meet you…” He says breathlessly.
Odyssey’s eyes soften even more.
He looks into the grown face of his child after two decades.
Images of the years he’d never had with him flash in his mind.
His first steps, his first words, his first fight…Every birthday he’d missed.
He sees it all fly before him.
Telemachus continues.
“I’d have given anything to know you...I dreamt for so long what it might be to know you beyond the likes of your name…” he chokes back a cry,
“…And now you’re here…”
Odysseus is rendered completely defenseless.
Telemachus continues,
“I’ve always wondered if we’re like each other…If I have your strength… if you could see yourself in me…”
Odysseus interjects,
“My boy, look how much you’ve grown... My darling, strong boy… the sweetest joy I’ve ever known…”
His eyes sparkle as he continues to speak,
“The time away from you had nearly killed me… You’re everything I could possibly imagine and more, my son.”
His voice cracks,
“I can only imagine the things you’ve suffered… the trials you’ve gone through…”
“Father, how I’ve missed you,” Telemachus says holding back tears.
“Telemachus,”
Odysseus cups his son’s face in his calloused hands. He feels the tears run down his cheeks.
“…I’m finally home.”
Telemachus throws his arms around his father, making him stumble backward with force. Odysseus holds him dearly. Tight enough that no man alive or dead could unclasp his grip on the boy.
They embrace, heads on each other's shoulders. Telemachus grips his tunic tightly and softly sobs into his father’s shoulder.
I was looking up my old other account trying to find a specific post I’d made and saw a mention from you from years back lmfao
NO idea the context but I thought it was funny akfjsfjwjfwjfj
“A Gentle Whisper” is to this day my favorite fanfiction and there’s even one or two words you’d used that I stole to use in my own writing, I was so inspired by your work—Just know you made an impact on me!
