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greengoblinswifey · 2 months ago

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Or Nah— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet nicholas at the club and he invites you back to his place where he fucks you on every surface. based on this request.

warnings— rough smut, grinding, voyeurism, fingering, choking, oral(m&f receiving), praise kink, lots of dirty talk, unprotected sex, ass slapping, hair pulling, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare.

word count— 4.8k

a/n— i really enjoyed writing this one🤭reblogs are appreciated <3

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The club was alive with energy as the bass of the music pulsed through your body, vibrating in your chest. You leaned against the bar, swirling your vodka martini in your hand, enjoying the tangy taste and the vibrant atmosphere. Your homegirls were off somewhere dancing, surrounded by guys, lost in their own world. But you? You were fine with being on your own, letting the music take over and just vibing.

Then, the intro to “Or Nah” started playing. You squealed, feeling the excitement rush through you. “This is my song!” you shouted, laughing, and within seconds, the entire crowd, including your friends, moved toward the dance floor. You took one last sip of your martini before strutting toward the crowd, hips swaying with the beat, your body flowing effortlessly to the rhythm of the song.

Your homegirls were hyping you up, shouting, “Yes, bitch!” as you danced, your hands running over your body, your skin glowing under the club lights. You felt unstoppable, confident in your own skin, the music making everything feel like it was just you, the beat, and the crowd.

Then, you felt it. A presence. A tall, muscular figure behind you. You didn’t need to look to know he was fine—his energy was undeniable. He leaned down toward your ear, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Can I dance with you, beautiful?”

A sly smile spreading across your face. “Of course,” you replied, your voice playful but full of confidence.

The mystery man placed his hands on your waist, his fingers warm against your skin, and you felt an immediate connection. His touch was firm but not aggressive, and as he pulled you closer, the two of you swayed in sync with the music. You could feel his body against yours, his chest broad and firm, his movements smooth as he mirrored your rhythm.

Your favorite part kicked in, “Do you like the way I flick my tongue or nah? (Or nah) You can ride my face until you're drippin' cum (Drippin' cum),” and you couldn’t help but get into it even more, your hips moving fluidly, grinding against him as he matched every shift. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, the contact sparking something between you that made your heart race.

“Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he whispered against your ear, his breath against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t suppress the small, breathy laugh that escaped your lips, feeling the tension build between you both.

You turned in his arms to face him, locking eyes, and he smirked. “Hey, I’m Nicholas,” he said, his smile playful yet sincere.

You raised an eyebrow, recognizing him instantly, but you kept your cool. “I’m Y/N and I know who you are,” you replied with a confident smirk, giving him an unamused but impressed look that made him laugh.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, his voice filled with admiration, and for a second, you saw a hint of something in his eyes—desire, maybe?

“Thanks,” you replied, your tone teasing, “I know.” You leaned in closer, just enough for him to hear, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You’re fine as hell.”

He chuckled, his cheeks slightly flushed, and for the first time, you saw him flustered. You pulled him closer, your bodies pressed against each other as you danced, the music setting the tone for the moment. As the next verse played, “You gon’ make me fall in love,” you could feel his hands sliding lower, his touch almost possessive, but still respectful, his fingertips skimming the curve of your waist and hips.

The music slowed a bit, snapping you both out of your trance. He gave you one last look, his lips curving into a smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful grin. “Only if you’re covering the tab for me and my girls.”

He laughed, nodding. “You got it.”

You moved with him toward the bar, his hand guiding you, and your homegirls flashing you a wink as you passed by. As he paid the tab, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him. His muscles were even more defined up close, his shirt hugging his broad shoulders, and the gleam of his Rolex catching the light made you realize this man wasn’t just good-looking, he was cashy, too. You caught him staring at you, his eyes roaming over your dark skin, glowing in the club’s lights, and the black liner around your lips that contrasted beautifully with your glossy lipgloss.

Nicholas’ voice pulled you from your thoughts. “I don’t usually pick women up at clubs,” he said, a little hesitant, “but you’ve caught my eye from the moment you walked in. You’re gorgeous.”

You felt your heart race at his words, but you kept your composure. “Thanks,” you replied, your eyes narrowing playfully, “I know.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you, his eyes dark with interest. Then, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to come back to my place with me?” he asked, his tone serious but laced with the kind of quiet confidence that sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gave him a slow, seductive look, letting your eyes linger on his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Sure,” you said, your voice low, sending a little shiver of excitement through him. He coughed lightly, clearly trying to hide the effect you were having on him.

You turned to your friends, who were already squealing. “I’m gonna leave with his fine ass,” you said, and they erupted into laughter, shouting playful encouragements. “Go get that dick, girl! Have fun, but call us if nothin’ happens!” one of them called out.

Nicholas placed his hand on your waist as he led you through the crowd. People parted for him as you both made your way outside, and when you reached the curb, a sleek black car with a driver waiting was parked. Nicholas opened the door for you, and you slipped into the back, the cool leather seat against your skin.

The moment you were inside, the air between you thickened. You both sat there for a moment, staring at each other, the tension almost unbearable. Then, without warning, you were on him, your lips crashing together as you kissed him passionately, the heat between you building with every second. His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips demanding as yours responded with equal hunger.

He moaned softly into your lips as you pulled yourself to straddle him, your mini skirt riding up as you sat on his bulge. There was nothing separating you but your g-string and his pants, you could feel how hard he was and how he twitched in excitement.

You could feel the warmth of his chest beneath you, the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your waist before shifting lower, resting just on the curve of your hips.

The car was moving through the city, the sound of the engine humming beneath the occasional soft moan that slipped from your lips. But neither of you cared that the driver was up front, minding his own business. The only thing that mattered was the way your bodies were responding to one another.

Nicholas leaned back, eyes locked on you as you shifted, grinding ever so slightly against him. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he pulled you in again, kissing you hungrily. “You’re fucking unreal,” he muttered against your lips, his hands running up your back, sending chills down your spine.

You could feel his heartbeat racing beneath his chest, and the way his body tensed when your hands traced down to his abdomen, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles through the fabric.

Nicholas paused, his hands gently cupping your face as he took a breath, his forehead resting against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky, unsure but wanting. The moment was everything, and you could feel how much he wanted you, but still, he you needed to be certain.

Without hesitation, you gave him a mischievous smile, “Yes,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss him once more.

He groaned into the kiss, a sound that sent a ripple of excitement through you. Slowly, his hands slid down to your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim mini skirt, pushing it up just slightly.

He looked at you, waiting, his voice softer this time. “Can I touch you?”

You locked eyes with him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you moved his hand to your waist. “Please do,” you murmured.

At your approval, he shifted your underwear and slowly rubbed your clit. “God, you’re so wet, how the fuck can someone be this wet?” he asked softly.

You chuckled, bucking your hips into his hand, “Guess I’m just really turned on by you and knowing someone else is aware of what you’re doing to me.”

In response, he slipped a finger inside you, curling it as another rubbed your clit. The pleasure hit you like a truck and you involuntarily let out a loud whimper.

But then, you heard a soft cough from the front seat—the driver had cleared his throat, perhaps more out of politeness than anything else. Nicholas chuckled lightly against your neck, his lips brushing your skin and rubbing your clit as you both laughed breathlessly at the situation.

“Just pay attention to me baby, feel how good my fingers make you feel,” he whispered.

You moaned in response, completely at his mercy as he finger fucked you while his driver drove you back to his place.

The car jolted slightly as it made a turn, the shift in motion causing a small sound to escape your lips. Nicholas' other hand moved around your neck, his touch deliberate as he slipped another finger inside your wet pussy, feeling the warmth inside you.

You were trying to keep your composure, but the way he touched you was like nothing else, and you could feel your body responding, your heart racing as his fingers moved faster.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a smirk on his lips. “You’re gonna cum already beautiful?” he whispered. “Are you that turned on I’m fingering you in the back of my car while my driver is in the front? Fuck, you’re everything I could ever want.”

You grinned back at him and nodded, feeling that sense of power, knowing how much he wanted you. He leaned forward, kissing you as his fingers worked inside you, the squelching noises your pussy made mixing with the sound of the engine.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking my fingers baby. Cum for me, be my good girl and cum all over my fingers,” he demanded, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Grabbing his biceps, you did your best to contain your moans but your efforts proved futile as you came all over his fingers, your body convulsing on top of him.

“Good girl, you made me so proud baby, so obedient,” he muttered, kissing your neck.

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them off and moaning around them. “Fuck, everything about you is perfect, even the way you taste.”

“And I wanna see if you taste as good as you look,” you smirked.

The car finally pulled up to Nicholas’ mansion, the gates creaking open as the vehicle glided through. You couldn’t help but admire the sprawling estate, the lights from the driveway glimmering against the night sky.

His driver opened the door for you, and you both exchanged an awkward smile. Nicholas fumbled with the keys to the mansion, clearly eager to get inside and you leaned over, brushing your lips against his neck, sending a shiver through him. His eyes darkened with desire as you made a teasing move, running your hand along the outline of his bulge, making him moan softly.

Once inside, he wasted no time, pushing you against the door with a heated kiss. His hands were everywhere, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. You returned the kiss with the same intensity, then pushed him back against the door.

Your warm hands glided down his chest before you slowly slid to your knees in front of him. His breath hitched as you looked up at him, eyes filled with lust. He froze for a moment, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hushed, unsure but clearly wanting this as much as you did.

You nodded, not caring about the cold marble beneath you. All that mattered was the moment, the confidence that ran through your veins when you were close to him. You reached for his belt, loosening it with practiced ease, and slowly slid his pants down, revealing his hard cock.

He gasped, his gaze locked on you, as he stepped out of his pants. You could feel his eyes on you as your fingers brushed over him in all his glory, and his breath caught when you made contact. He was hard, long and full of girth, feeling weighty in your hand. The tip was pretty, pink and leaking, pre cum oozing and slowly dripping down his shaft. As you looked up at him through your lashes, you could tell by the look in his eyes how badly he wanted this, and that only made you want him more.

Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it so he could feel everything.

“Your hands are so soft,” he whispered, and you smirked up at him, feeling a thrill run through you.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, you closed the space between you, trailing your lips along the side of his cock, before meeting his eyes one more time. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he took, and you could tell he was trying to hold back from losing control.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Everything about you is perfect.”

As you took him into your mouth, each motion drew out quiet sounds from him. You took him deeper and deeper, swirling your tongue as you did and using your hands to rub his bare thighs then to caress his balls.

“Holy shit, you’re amazing,” he said, breathily.

His praises made your pussy throb and you started deep throating him, making sure to use as much tongue as you could to make it sloppy just the way you presumed he’d like it. You couldn’t have Nicholas Chavez saying you gave bad head.

“Oh fuck baby, if you keep taking me like that m’ gonna cum, you’re so good at this.”

You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he moaned in response, his head tipping back.

He gently placed a hand on your head and you took him back into your throat, bobbing your head as your salvia and his pre cum dripped down your chin. You were a sight for sore eyes and he was ready to see you swallow his cum.

“H-holy fucking shit baby, I’m gonna cum down that throat,” he moaned, his voice breaking.

You took him as deep as you could, then gliding your mouth and your tongue across his shaft as you felt his warm cum shoot down your throat. You swallowed every drop, his cum better than any martini you drank that night.

“You’re so fucking hot, let me eat your pussy on my kitchen counter,” he panted.

You were down for anything and you allowed him to take your hand, leading you to the large kitchen with a marble island in the middle. He lifted you up with ease, pulling down your clothes and then your top over your head. You took the opportunity to kick off your heels.

“Fucking stunning,” he whispered, kissing your abdomen.

He continued, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You’re soaked baby, so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on your pussy a stark contrast to your bare ass against the cool marble. You couldn’t believe he was letting you defile his beautiful kitchen like this.

“Your moans are so sweet baby, you like the way I flick my tongue?” he laughed and you chuckled as he quoted the lyrics from earlier.

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn’t believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared his neighbors would hear.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good,” you cried. grabbing his hair.

“Mm— I aim to please,” he muttered into your pussy.

His tongue was practically inside you, tonguing you and moving back up to suck on your clit. As his movements grew, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful, I need to swallow every drop.” A loud gasp left your lips and your body lifted from the surface, as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like you were his last meal—ironic considering you were in his kitchen and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, holy fuck, you taste amazing,” he panted.

You pulled him up into a kiss, his face mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your full breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers tangled in his hair then he pulled back to rip off his shirt.

Nicholas’ body was everything you’d expect. As he took off his shirt, his broad shoulders and chest came into view, perfectly sculpted with a defined, chiseled look. His biceps bulged with each movement, showing the results of countless hours lifting. His abs were sharply outlined, a series of well-formed ridges that tapered down to his waist, making his physique look even more impressive. His skin glistened in the light, showcasing the muscles that seemed to flex with every breath he took. The veins running down his arms and across his chest hinted at the strength and power he held, adding to his overall imposing yet enticing presence. Everything about him was carved to perfection. You needed this man, and you needed him now. You needed him to take you on every surface in his house and you weren’t afraid to admit it.

“I need you to fuck me all over your house, starting right here, God, you are so hot,” you breathed in awe.

He grinned, he loved the sound of that and he loved a woman that knew what she wanted.

Swiftly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.

“Shit,” you moaned, as he took your breath away, “you’re so fucking big.”

“I know baby, it’s okay, I’ll go easy on you,” he whispered, reaching down to rub your clit to ease the tension.

“Easy on me? Nah, I want that dick fucking me hard,” you retorted.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re my dream woman,” he gasped.

Your wish was his command as he slammed into you, burying his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the kitchen as he began moving with a pace that had your toes curling and your acrylics digging into his muscular back.

“Oh my God, Nick,” you moaned.

“I know baby, I’m the one making you feel this good, no other man can be this deep inside you,” he murmured.

You nodded breathlessly, with the way he was pounding into you, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix and as you looked down, you saw the faint outline of his cock moving inside you. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.

“You feel fucking amazing, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted.

You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock and abdomen.

“That’s it, squirt all over me baby,” he smirked, still slapping himself against you.

He reached down, sucking and slurping as your pussy quivered under his touch.

All you could do was moan in response, this man was incredible. There was no way you would let another woman have him after tonight.

“Fuck me on your couch next,” you demanded, boldly.

He paused with a smirk on his face and for a minute, you thought he would reject the offer, not wanting to defile his very expensive white sofa sitting in his living room. The same one his family probably sat on when they came to visit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as he scooped you up by your ass, making you wrap your legs around him. He carried you effortlessly to the couch, flipping you into your stomach. His large hand came down on your ass and you squealed, taking it as a signal to arch your back.

“Exactly what I want baby, it’s like you were made for me, fuck,” he praised.

You truly believed he was made for you too.

He sank into you from behind, slapping your ass as he did.

“Oh my God,” he moaned, leaning down to kiss your back, “you should see how good you look fucking gripping my dick.”

His hips snapped against your ass, pounding you as you did your best to fuck him back.

“Oh? That’s what we’re doing? My girl’s fucking me back? Alright, I can work with that,” he panted, speeding up his pace.

Hearing him call you his girl made something awaken in you. You whimpered loudly and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Can I pull your hair, beautiful?” he asked, his pace not faltering.

“Mhmm,” you answered, lost in pleasure. Usually you’d never let a man pull your hair but Nicholas just had that effect on you.

He gripped your braids in the ponytail they were in, using it as an anchor to slam into you faster and harder. Soon, the scrunchie fell out and he scooped your braids in his hand, still pounding into you.

“Holy fuck, you’re clenching around me so tight, cum on my dick,” he moaned.

You buried your face into a cushion, crying out as you shuddered and squirted around him, your arousal dripping down to his beautiful white couch.

“Shit,” you panted, “sorry about your couch.”

“That’s the least princess,” he replied, “bedroom next?”

You nodded and lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his firm torso, your lips locking in a messy kiss as he stumbled with you to his bedroom upstairs. You were grinding on his cock and he could barely make it to his bedroom before he pushed you up against the top of the stairs, making your upper body hang over.

But you weren’t scared. You were in Nicholas’ strong arms, and whatever deep subconscious worry of falling over had disappeared as his cock slipped inside your dripping pussy. He began fucking into you, holding your body tight against him as you jolted over the stairs.

“Fucking hell, this is so hot,” he panted, leaning down to suck on your nipples.

“You fuck me so good,” you moaned.

He chuckled, his pace speeding up and soon, he recognized the unmistakable feeling of your walls clamping around him.

“You’ve cum so much for me tonight baby, give me another, c’mon you can do it,” he urged.

You were determined to give him anything he wanted and you leaned up, no longer hanging over the stairs, to wrap your arms around him as yet another orgasm ripped through you like a knife.

“Good girl, who’s my good girl?” he cooed.

“I am,” you answered, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He finally took you up to his bedroom, your body trembling in his arms and his cock still deep inside you.

He sat with you on the bed, a wince escaping your lips as you were impaled on his cock.

“I know you’re tired baby, I’ve made you cum five fucking times,” he said, you couldn’t believe he’d made you cum that many times, you weren’t sure you had another left in you, “but I need you to do it one more time for me while I cum inside you.”

“T-too much,” you whined, your body overstimulated and exhausted from it all.

“C’mon baby, don’t you wanna be my good girl? I know you’ve got one more in you, ride my cock and make me proud,” he urged.

If it was one thing you wanted, it was to make Nicholas proud and you lifted your head from his neck, planting a kiss on his lips as a promise to fulfill his wishes.

He leaned against the headboard, bucking his hips as you began bouncing on his cock.

“There she is, ride your cock,” he moaned.

Hearing him refer to himself as yours had you feeling something you’d never felt before. In response, you lifted your hips higher, slamming yourself down on him so he could feel how deep he was inside you. He let out a breathy moan, clutching the sheets below as his eyes averted from your boobs bouncing to his dick disappearing inside your pussy.

“You’re a fucking vixen, so goddamn beautiful,” he moaned.

His praises only encouraged you further and you began grinding on him, giving your clit the friction it needed and making his cock feel all of your insides.

“You like how I ride your dick baby?” you asked, your pussy grinding on him just the way your ass did in the club earlier.

“I fucking love it beautiful, oh shit, keep doing that, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he murmured.

Ever so obedient, you ground yourself on his dick, groping your boobs and tipping your head back, giving him a show.

“I— I’m gonna— I’m gonna fucking cum baby!” he cried.

“Give me everything, cum inside me,” you moaned.

Your body shook on top of him as you creamed and he let out the sweetest moans you’d ever heard. He gripped onto you as though you were his anchor, ropes and ropes of his warm cum spurting deep inside you. If you thought his cock filled you up, his cum was the cherry on top, filling you to the brim like you were nothing but his breeding slut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, shivering under you, somehow still coming, “it’s so much, fuck.”

Your body finally gave out and you collapsed on top of him, exhausted and overstimulated, the slightest brush against your pussy making you wince. He finally pulled out and you squeezed your eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of his cum oozing out of you and pooling onto his sheets.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him and your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom. He ran a warm bath, sitting on a stool with you in his arms.

“Don’t fall asleep beautiful, I’m running you a bath. You must be exhausted,” he said, kissing your forehead, “you did amazing.”

Gently, he placed you in the bath then sat behind you, using a wash cloth to clean you up and then himself, peppering kissed as he did.

“You’re out of this world, so so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you, you’re so sweet,” you replied, feeling a tad bit shy under his praises.

As soon as you were finished, he dried himself off then did the same for you, wrapping you in a towel and carrying you to another room with clean sheets. He laid you gently on the bed and snuggled beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Everything about you is perfect, God, I want this everyday with you,” you heard him say as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

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lionwitch · 2 days ago

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Hey, I was thinking of a fic idea. I don't know if it's been done (please send link if so)

I was thinking that it was a risky move from the syrens to mention a daughter when she perfectly could've not mentioned it. Unlike with the water fear thing, she wasn't prompted. Now syrens are supposed to know every way at sea, so I bet they have a wide net of information. So what if they had information on Ithaca as well? Would make sense, wouldn't it? Maybe not the best info, but info nonetheless.

Now, I don't know about you, but if my husband were to go to war, I'd be real affectionate those last few days iykyk. Also I don't think there was a very effective birth control yet, was there?

So what if Penelope sees them away, everything's normal, Telemachus is a baby, all good. And then as time goes on, she starts feeling symptoms but she's in denial. No, she can't be pregnant when her husband isn't home to know about it. She can't. She must be just anxious, or ill or exhausted. Oh, her belly? Yeah no, it hasn't yet gone back to what it used to after telemachus. Oh it's bigger? Yeah, she ate a lot tonight. Totally normal.

By the time she gets over her denial and realizes that oh shit she's pregnant, Odysseus is on the battlefield, not just on the way. She asks Hermes to deliver the message, but Athena convinces him not to, because he's already eager to go home, and if you add that his wife is pregnant, he'll try to make it home before the birth, but that would only make him reckless. It'd get him killed. No, they'll tell him when the war is over. Except of course it takes longer than expected.

Now meanwhile, Ithaca receives her Princess not even a year after her Prince. They get along great. Telemachus adores his little sister. And Penelope adores both her children. She sees a part of her husband in each of them. But the girl (I'm thinking Alkmene, which I'm aware is already a character of Greek mythology, but roll with it) is Odysseus's spitting image while Telemachus is hers.

All of Ithaca can see that the Princess is the miniature version of their King. She makes the same expressions, snarls the same way when she's pissed off, has the same features, from his hair, eyes, face shape. She's his mini-me. So, Ithaca slowly shifts from calling her Alkmene to Mini (alkmene, mene, mini).

Meanwhile Telemachus is his mother's son through and through. The Prince and Princess look like the King and Queen genderbent. And act like them too. Telemachus learns arts, sits alongside his mother as he learns to play instruments and she even teaches him to weave. And Mini, she tries. She does, truly. But she's just not the most patient. She can't sit still for hours on end handling a thread.

So Penelope sits her down hands her a knife and a piece of wood. She knows Mini is just like her father, and hopes his hobby will be something she finally picks up. So she teaches her woodcarving. And would you look at that, she likes it.

Now, Telemachus as the heir, he is the one most in the public eye. Mini tends to hand back, carving wood and watching her brother with sharp eyes, but doesn't stay seated for long, no, she sticks to the shadows and shifts which pillar she's resting against. Unlike Odysseus' leadership and commanding presence, though, she doesn't like to be perceived. She moves on quiet feet, never stays in one spot for long, and doesn't speak much. It's hard to keep track of her. But she's always watching.

Telemachus and her have different ways to feel close to their father. He steals his accessories and clothes (I read a headcannon and a fic and loved this), and she usually sits by her father's bow and talks to it, as if it were her father. Eventually, just before the war ends, she takes a regular bow and teaches herself to use it. She sucks at it at first. She struggles to even string it. Just like Telemachus struggles with fighting.

She does this on secret. She sees the way her mother stares at the bow. Her brother isn't all that interested in learning that yet. So she sneaks out and practices. She sucks. Truly she does. The amount of times she's hit herself on the face just trying to pull the string back, or later cut her cheek with the string as it shoots, the amount of times her arrows were pathetically weak.

Meanwhile, the war ends, and instead of telling him, by now Hermes isn't paying much attention and Athena wants to, really, but can't find the way to tell him "oh by the way, you also have a nine-year-old daughter and I knew all along but didn't tell you", and then you know, they argue and such. She never actually tells him.

And when Hermes makes his appearance during Wouldn't You Like, he also doesn't tell him because there are more pressing issues. But after the Syren thing, on the way to Scylla, he comes down again like

"uhm, actually... You do have a daughter. Your wife was pregnant when you left."

"What?"

"Yeah. Your spitting image, that one. So much so, they call her Mini. Mini of Ithaca, has a ring to it, doesn't it? Mkay, I'll take my leave, have fun~"

"Wait no, you can't just— Hermes, come back!"

And then everything goes as it does. His seven years on Calypso's Island are torture, not only because he has to wonder how his wife is doing and how his boy grew up, but also because he spends them thinking of the daughter he didn't know he had. Was she his spitting image physically or personality wise? What traits of his did she get? What's her real name? Because okay, they call her Mini, but what's her name? Ctemene, like his sister? Something else?

And as the years pass, his anxiety rises when he thinks of home. Because by now, she must be grown up. By now, both his wife and his daughter must have suitors, and he's not there to scare them off.

And meanwhile, during those ten years after she first took the bow, she spends most of her time hidden, trying to learn. The first thing she tries to learn is to hunt, she's not great at it, but she tries. Not for sport either but because as the suitors start to arrive, boy can they eat, and she doesn't want them in her space. This gets Artemis's attention.

Artemis sees this young woman, trying to hide from suitors (some of them also try to get her, because hey, Queen or Princess, same thing right?), trying to learn to hunt but not doing so unnecessary or out of malice. This girl tries to befriend as many animals as she can, but still does hunt. And she takes her under her wing. Now I know Artemis was on the Trojan's side, but come on, it's been almost twenty years.

Under her tutelage, Mini becomes a great archer, just like Telemachus becomes a warrior under Athena's. Unlike Telemachus, she's not too interested in fighting. She does archery because she feels it brings her closer to her father, not because she wants to be a warrior.

And so she becomes an archer as good as, if not better than, Odysseus (Because come on, while Athena is the Goddess of war, Artemis' weapon is a bow) And people know this. She's scary good.

Much like Telemachus with Athena, Mini befriends Artemis.

So during God Games, Apollo is actually firmly on the Releasing Odysseus side, much to Athena's surprise. After all, hey, his sister likes his kid, might as well help her get her dad back. With this change, Athena doesn't get beat up as badly, because that's three gods (Apollo was like "lol isn't that your protégé's dad? Yeah, you should watch this") standing up to Zeus instead of one. They each receive a beating, but not as bad.

Also imagine like:

"Hey, Apollo—"

"It's Odysseus of Ithaca, right? That Odysseus?"

"Yes? I know he killed your Syrens, but listen—"

"Yeah, so mean of him. Anyway, release him."

"... What?"

"My sister is friends with his daughter."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"Mmhmm. Bye now, you have others to convince."

Now, during The Challenge, the suitors are like "No, this is impossible, it's literally not possible, you're trying to trick us"

And the nineteen year old princess snorts, stands up, strings her father's bow and shoots through the axes cleanly. Then unstrings (?) the bow and puts it where it was.

"Dunno, seems very possible for me."

Later, during Hold Them Down, these bastards also plan to take her the same way they will her mother. Break her pride, they say. Put her in her place. A girl can't be better than them.

Odysseus is filled with pride for his daughter at the thought that she's so much better than them that it broke their egos. He's also filled with anger, logically.

Now, it is 108 men. What if they did manage to get Telemachus just a little before (not that he lasted less, just that it happened a little earlier), and Odysseus is in check, because fuck if he attacks they'll hurt his boy. He's seething with rage and trying to formulate a plan. He could take them, he absolutely could, but how will he do it without harming his son? Their eyes are all on him, he doesn't have the element of surprise anymore, he can't move quickly or they'll kill his son.

And then an arrow flies. And it's not his.

The arrow pierces the head of the man holding Telemachus, at the perfect angle that it doesn't harm the boy, and it comes from behind and slightly above.

Odysseus looks up, and he sees his own eye staring back at him, but she is much younger. And yes, I said eye, because she's wearing an eye patch. He doesn't think much of it because she's an archer, and some archers use an eye patch. Also, it's cool as heck, looks more like half a mask than an eye patch, with intricate designs and expanding over more than just her eye to her temple.

"Shit it's Mini!" "Where is she?"

Between the three of them, a close-range warrior, an archer, and a versatile, experienced warrior, the fight is over soon. You can't not turn your back on at least one of them, especially when Mini, just like her father moments before, hides in the darkness and shoots.

After they're all dead, she steps out of the shadows. And damn, she is his carbon copy.

Then you know, I Can't Help But Wonder is kinda different because it's not one child but two. Also, he finally gets to learn her name. And listen, Odysseus is fascinated by his children, because Telemachus is Penelope's copy and Mini is his. Down to the height, Telemachus is taller than Odysseus and Mini is almost his height.

After the reunions and all, family bonding is hard. He feels like Mini stares into his soul and it unnerves him, a little because he's used to being on the giving end of that look, and a little because she doesn't take off her eye patch. She changes it up, has many designs, some more like masks than patches, but is still always wearing one, and always has her bow and quiver on her person or next to her, which makes him feel like she's always on guard, which puts him on edge.

"Does she ever take the patch off?" he whispers to Telemachus

"No, hasn't for years."

Also, Argos is an old doggo but he's alive because I say so. Still, Mini has two Hunting Dogs because again, Artemis's protégé. Argos sticks by Telemachus and Odysseus, and her dogs are loyal only to her. They don't leave her side. They are big, like wolves. Artemis herself picked them for her. One black, one white. And they flank her at all times, it's certainly unnerving. They're not playful puppies, at least not to anyone but her and her Goddess.

"Did I... Do something? You're staring at me, Mini."

"Nah, she does that." her brother replies instead "Nothing personal. She doesn't like to talk much."

And yeah, she doesn't. But things are still a bit awkward between them, and he's not sure how to fix it. She seems to judge him. Sometimes she outright snarls at him if he suggests she lower her guard a little and take off her eyepatch/mask. They're no longer at war, the suitors are not a threat anymore, they're all safe. He made sure of it. And yet, the worst thing he could've done was try to take her mask off.

He got close to her, gave her a side hug, tried to be a dad. And everything was fine. And then he tilted her face up and she looked at him. She seemed relatively relaxed, but not fully.

"Kid, you can relax. I promise you're safe. You don't need to be battle ready all the time here, take it from me."

And he reached out to take off her mask. It was meant as an act of comfort, like Polities prying his sword off his hand when he was tired during the war. A sign that he'd take care of her and she could relax.

But she smacked his hand and pushed him away. She glared at him, one eye portraying the message just as well as two would. She took her bow and quiver and left without a word. She only came back before dinner (she left after breakfast), with fresh meat for their meal.

Her one visible eye (the left btw) glared at him the whole dinner, and, he felt damn uneasy, and she snarled at him when he tried to talk to her. Which wouldn't be all that intimidating if her dogs didn't snarl every time she did, baring their teeth and growling. Penelope and Telemachus, bless their hearts, tried to de-escalate the situation. Telemachus started talking about absolutely anything that came to mind and his sister's attention snapped to him and she relaxed slowly. She loved listening to her brother rant and be happy.

It went on for days. Eventually, she stopped glaring at him, didn't snarl at him anymore. But damn her dogs did. They didn't seem to like him, and he really didn't want to get into a fight with them, because either they'd rip off his arm or he'd kill them, and neither was a good option. She had them well trained, though, so as they growled at him, she only clicked her tongue and they quieted down.

With time and effort, he got her to relax a little more. Still, she never took off her mask/eyepatch. It still got on his nerves.

And then one night, as Telemachus was talking about his day, she relaxed so much she fell asleep.

Odysseus lifted his daughter in his arms, her dogs flanking him but not growling at him, just seemingly protecting her, as they always did.

He took her to her room and tucked her in. Now, he's a man who learns from his mistakes. He knew he shouldn't take her mask off, she wouldn't want him too. But today's mask was rather extravagant, and it probably would be quite uncomfortable to sleep with. So he took it off her face.

And he stumbled back, his breath knocked out of his lungs. Because his daughter had a trident scarred across her eye, starting at the bridge of her nose and diagonally across her eye. Her eyelid had been torn and sewn back together, but there was no question of it it had harmed her eye. It was purposeful, careful, designed. It was a mark. It was Poseidon's.

That bastard had blinded his daughter for blinding his son. An eye for an eye. It was a damn miracle he didn't take both her eyes, and that was probably because of Artemis. However, it did look a bit older than just his last confrontation. It must've been while he was in Calypso's island.

No wonder she was wary around him. She must know it was his fault that Poseidon partially blinded her.

Odysseus knelt beside her and took her hand. "Forgive me" he whispered. She didn't stir, but one of her dogs huffed at him, the other growled. And for once, he didn't try to calm it down. If it tore him up, he'd deserve it. He wouldn't fight it.

He fell asleep at the foot of his daughter's bed, her mask set beside him and her hand between his.

He woke up as she stirred. He was the lightest of sleepers after twenty years in danger. He thought Mini was just waking up, but she wasn't. She whimpered and thrashed. He didn't know what to do, should he comfort her? Wake her up?

Alkmene curled on her side and clawed at her scarred eye. One of her dogs got in between her arms and her face, preventing any more damage. Not for lack of trying, the girl whined and growled in pain, trying to claw at it, but the dog kept interfering. Her growls and whimpers turned into desperate gasps and growing screams of pain. A wound inflicted by a god likely hurt like new every once in a while. What could he do, if it wasn't even a nightmare. It wasn't that she was scared and he could comfort her, she was in pain so excruciating she wanted to claw it out. Her dogs protected her face, they didn't mind that it meant she clawed at them instead. He didn't know what to do.

The black dog locked its jaw around his wrist, firm but careful, it didn't even hurt, And it pulled his hand toward his daughter's face. Odysseus carefully pressed his palm against her eye, cringing at the texture of the scar. The pressure seemed to relieve the pain, however slightly. She still gasped for breath, but no longer screamed. She still tried to claw at her eye, but she only managed to scratch his hand and wrist, clawing so desperately that it broke his skin.

He welcomed the pain. A fraction of what he put her through, a fraction of the pain he's to blame for. A part of him hoped she tore his skin. A part of him hoped her dog would lock its jaw and puncture his arm, so he'd have the scars to remind him of his daughter's. So she wouldn't be alone in her pain tonight.

He stayed steady there for hours, pressing gently on her face. He memorized the feeling of her scar on his palm, jagged and rough, imperfect and cruel. He wished he could take it from her, he wished Poseidon had taken his eye instead.

Little after dawn, her eyes fluttered and he took away his hand. He had dried blood all over his wrist and hand, and she had it under he fingernails. He was nervous, terrified she'd hate him, terrified she already did.

Her eyes opened, and once again it knocked him off balance, seeing her right eye open but discolored. Broken. She stared at him for a minute and he bowed his head in shame.

"Telemachus can't know. He'll blame himself, think it should've been him." is the first thing she said, instead of the insults or reprimand he expected.

"Alkmene…"

"It's Mini. Listen, it's your fault. None of this would've happened if it weren't for you. So I was told. But I know you did your best with what you had. And you didn't know Poseidon would take my eye as revenge."

"He told me. When I came back, he said he'd take my son and take his eyes. I didn't think he already had."

"Yeah, couple years ago. I was alone in the coast, an easy target I suppose. It was meant to be my brother, but he settled for me. And hey, at least it works. I'm an archer. He did take my dominant eye, but I adapted. Archers don't need both eyes anyway."

"Damn you are too calm about this."

"Well, I mean, it's been years. I don't hate you for this. It's hard to hate someone who I only heard the best of stories about, and by the time you arrived, I'd come to terms with it. I was tense around you because you kept insisting I took my mask off, and I couldn't exactly tell you off without making it obvious that I was hiding something. So quit that and we're good."

"I'll never pressure you about it again."

"Good. I'm so glad we see eye to eye" she grinned

"Yeah, I didn't like coming in blind about you" he joked back despite himself. He didn't know if he had the right to. But she snorted, surprised by the pun.

"So I got my humor from you. I should've seen that one coming."

"we probably shouldn't joke about this, but I suppose I can turn a blind eye to it"

"come on, don't be blinded by your righteousness, this is fun."

"Yes, I suppose I shouldn't lose sight of fun"

All day, father and daughter exchanged bad blind puns, much to the confusion of Penelope and Telemachus. But hey, at least the tension between them had dissipated.

Odysseus saw his daughter in a new light. He caught all the small gestures she had that hinted at her partial blindness. He understood now the way she struggled with depth, often trying twice to reach something, and struggling to catch. He noticed her relationship with her dogs. They were more than just her pets and companions, they were her eyes, always alert and flanking her so she wouldn't need to be on guard, especially the one on her blind side. They prevented her from bumping into walls and furniture, even if it meant she bumped into them instead. He saw the way she startled slightly when Telemachus touched her unexpectedly or moved too fast.

Bonding with her became easier as the tension dissipated with bad jokes that had Telemachus smacking his head on the table, yet smiling.

And then he figured they could bond over archery, all of them. Penelope was good, a Spartan through and through. Telemachus was getting the hang of it, but he was better at close-range fighting. Odysseus enjoyed helping him out, fixing his form and aim.

He knew his daughter was a good archer, but he thought surely there would be some tips he could give her, with twice her experience. Or hey, at least he could show off a little. He took his bow and aimed. As his arrow flew, it was knocked off course and split by another. He looked up to see Mini hanging from a tree branch, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What's the matter, old man? Can't land a shot?"

Odysseus huffed and fired again. Once again it was intercepted by another arrow.

"I thought you were an archer, My King." she mocked.

"I am, you little Winion!"

And for hours, they tried to one-up each other while Telemachus and Penelope watched fondly. They did all sorts of trickshots and they were generally pretty evenly matched, though their techniques were different. She was more fluid, she could aim while hanging upside down or while running, while he slowed down and had a more traditional technique.

Hunting was still very much her thing, though. When Odysseus and his children went to hunt, he and Telemachus went all Warrior Of The Mind, thinking of traps and strategies. While Mini just set her dogs free and her and her canines moved like a unit, rounding up prey. They were stealthy and the prey did not see it coming.

However, she was respectful. She didn't hunt more than necessary. It was a quick death and after reaching the prey she thanked it for the sacrifice. There was not a moment of fear or pain for the prey. It was the way of Artemis, the way of nature.

He had thought himself a great hunter, but of course the protégé of the Goddess of Hunting would put him to shame.