#the mythology kind but just in case

[demigod-shenanigans]

Yeah, yeah, Valgrace is Romeo and Juliet coded but hear me out: they’re actually Pyramus and Thisbe, which is a Roman myth.

Same basic story of rival families (rival camps, you know how those parallels work), but the way the deaths go down is different. It’s not a planned faked death that goes awry because the other person doesn’t know.

Pyramus and Thisbe plan to meet under a mulberry tree. Thisbe gets there first and sees a lioness killing something and hides, but loses her veil as she flees.

Pyramus never sees Thisbe’s body (because she isn’t dead), but finds her bloodied veil and assumes she died. He deals with this by falling on his own sword.

Thisbe returns, wanting to talk to Pyramus about what happened to her, and finds him dead/dying (depending on the version of the myth).

This is more accurate in terms of it being unintentional—Leo not wanting to fake his death but actively trying to escape death with his plan—Jason never seeing Leo’s body and the death by stabbing thing! It’s also perfect for Leo coming back at the end of Burning Maze and asking for Jason first thing and finding out he’s dead. You’re welcome :)

[prolibytherium]

I never touched it but I feel like i only ever hear positive things said about song of achilles.. in (rough strokes at least) what makes it dogshit to you?

Okay it's been a while since I actually read it so some of this might not be spot on accurate. Sorry if at any point I say 'the book never does xyz' and it actually does once or twice but I think my underlying criticisms are accurate

-Patroclus is made into like this soft gentle tender quivering little yaoi boy. In the source text, he's shown as compassionate and moved by the suffering of his own men (and apparently having some medical skill, tending to the wounded in the camp), but very much invested n combat and very, very good at it (pages worth of descriptions of the guys he's killing left and right). In this, the arguably more complex character from this 8th century BC text is flattened into Being A Healer, he doesn't want to go to war he just wants to help people, he only goes because Achilles has to but he doesn't want to fight he's a HEALER he's a gentle lover NOT A FIGHTER who just wants to help he just wants to help everyone around him he HEALS while Achilles is a doomed warrior who is so good at fighting and KILLING its a DICHOTOMY GUYS!!!LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL SUN AND MOON DOOMED LOVERS SO SAD patocluse HEALER . (I Think he's specifically characterized as being BAD at fighting but might be misremembering)

-I don't remember much about Achilles' characterization I think it just makes him less of a jackass while not adding anything of interest and levels out into being mad boring.

-Not getting into the literal millenias old debate whether the mythological characters Achilles and Patroclus were being characterized as some type of lover by the original oral sources of the Iliad or its Homeric writers. We will never know. We don't even know what (if any) culturally accepted conventions of male homosexuality existed in bronze age Greece (we know much more about their descendants). But there are some interesting elements of their characterization in this direction, with how unconventional their relationship is WITHIN the text itself- Patroclus is described as cooking for Achilles and his guests (very specifically a woman/wife's job), Achilles chides Patroclus like a father, but there's also scene where Achilles' mourning of him directly echoes a passage of Hector's wife mourning her husband, Patroclus is explicitly stated to Achilles' elder, and is overall treated as his equal or near-equal, closest confidant and most beloved friend (to the point that pederastic classical Greeks would debate over who was erastes (older authority figure lover) and who was eromenos (adolescent 'beloved')- many took it as a given that this text depicted their present-day cultural norms of homosexual behavior but it existed so Outside of these norms that it had to be debated who was who). Their relationship is non-standard both within the text and to the descendants of the civilization that wrote them.

Basically what I'm saying is this book had opportunities to like, explore the unconventionality of the relationship (being presented here as explicitly lovers), explore the dynamics of why Patroclus wants to do 'women's work' (besides being a tenderhearted softboy), the weird dynamics where they take on paternal roles to each other but also roles of wives, how they feel about being this way, and just kind of Doesn't. Which I guess isn't an intrinsic fault (because it omits much of what I just talked about to begin with). it's just like.... Lame. This book takes jsut abandons everything interesting about the source text in favor of flattening it into bland Doomed Yaoi.

-The conflict that sets off the core story of the Iliad is Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis, an enslaved Trojan woman taken by Achilles as a war-trophy, Achilles spends most of the story moping because he was dishonored by his 'trophy' being taken. Achilles and Patroclus and everyone else are raping their captives, all the women in the story are either captured Trojans (or in the case of the free women within the walls of Troy, soon to be enslaved, and are slave owners themselves). Slavery as an institution and extreme patriarchal conventions are innate to the text and reflective of the context in which it was developed. You cannot avoid it.

But obviously you can't have your soft yaoi boys doing this, so the author has them capturing women to Protect Them from the other men. Their slaves are UNDER THEIR PROTECTION and VERY SAFE (and they might even Like And Befriend Them but I might be misremembering that. Briseis does though). Our heroes have apparently absorbed none of the ideals of the culture they exist in and the author seems to think "they're gay and aren't sexually attracted to their captives" would translate to them being outright benevolent (also as if wartime sexual violence is just about attraction and not part of a wider spectrum of violent acts to dehumanize and brutalize an accepted 'enemy')

In the source text, Briseis mourns Patroclus as being the kindest to her of her captors, who tried to get her a slightly better outcome by getting her married to Achilles (which probably would be the Least Bad of all possible outcomes for a woman in that situation, becoming a legal wife instead of a slave), and wonders what will happen to her now that he's gone. This is a really really sad, horrible, and compelling dynamic which could be fleshed out in very interesting ways but is instead is tossed entirely aside in favor of them being Besties. Like brother and sister.

All of the above pisses me off so much. If you don't want to engage in the icky parts of ancient/bronze age Greece then don't write a retelling of a story taking place in bronze age Greece. I'm not gonna get mad at children's adaptations of Greek myths or silly fun stories loosely based on them for omitting the rape and slavery but it is SO fundamental to the Iliad. If you're not willing to handle it, either fully omit it or better yet set your Iliad inspired yaoi in an invented swords-and-sandals setting where you can have all your heartbreaking tragic doomed lovers plot beats and not have to clumsily write around the women they're brutalizing.

-The author didn't seem to know what to do with Thetis and she made her just like, Achilles bitch mother who spends most of the story trying to separate our Yaoi Boys (iirc her disguising Achilles as a girl and hiding him on Scyros is made to be more about getting him away from Patroclus than trying to save her son from his prophesied doom in the Trojan War) until she sees how much they loooove each other and I think helps Patroclus' spirit get to the afterlife or something in the end?

-This is more of a personal taste gripe but it has that writing style I loathe where the prose feels less like a story and more like an attempt to string together Deep Beautiful Hard Hitting Poetic Lines that will look great as excerpts on booktok (might predate booktok but same vibe). It's all very Pretty and Haunting and Deep but feels devoid of real substance.

I really like The Iliad and The Odyssey in of themselves. They're fascinating historical texts that give a window into how 8th century BC Greeks told their stories, saw their world, interpreted their ancestors, etc. And genuinely I think these texts have 'good' characters, there's a lot of complexity and humanity to it.

WRT the Iliad- all of the main Achaeans are pretty fascinating, the one singular part where Briseis Gets To Talk and laments her situation is great, Achilles fantasizing that all of the Trojans AND the Achaeans die so he and Patroclus alone can have the glory of conquering Troy (wild), Achilles asking to embrace Patroclus' shade and reaching out for him but it's immaterial (and the shade being sucked back underground with a 'squeak' (the squeak kinda gets me it's disturbing and sad)), Hecuba talking about wanting to tear out Achilles' liver and eat it in a (taboo, exceptioally pointed) expression of rage and grief for his mutilation of her son's corpse, just one tiny line where the enslaved women performing ritual wailing for their dead captors are described as using it as an outlet to 'grieve for their own troubles' is heartrending, etc. A lot of grappling with anger and grief and the inevitability of death, a lot of groundwork laid for characters that could be very interesting when expanded upon in the framework of a conventional novel.

And Song Of Achilles really doesn't do much with all that. I know a lot of my gripes here are kind of just "It's different from the Iliad", I would have thought of it as mostly mediocre and forgettable rather than infuriating if it wasn't a retelling (and I DEFINITELY have strong biases here). But I think the ways in which it is different are less just a product of a retelling (of course there's going to be omissions and differences) and more a complete and utter disinterest in vast majority of its own subject matter, to the book's detriment. I think a retelling has a point when it EXPANDS on the source, or provides a NEW ANGLE to the source. This book doesn't Really do either, it just shaves off the complexity of its source material, renders the characters into a really boring archetype of a gay relationship, and gives very little else. Its content boils down to a middling tragic romance that has been inserted into the hollowed out defleshed skeleton of the Iliad.

Bottom line: I definitely would not be as mad about it if I wasn't familiar with the source material but I think it's fair to expect a retelling to Engage with/expand on its source, and I also think it's weak purely on its own merits. This book was set up to disappoint Me specifically.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

i'm polish and i don't really know much about traditional polish clothes or legends or anything so it's really fun kind of uncovering a part of my heritage by watching you draw gay little ghosts, so dziękuję

Well im happy to hear that! Polish folk clothes, even if not my personal favourite in europe (sorry) are really fun to draw and look at... Im not exactly sure when it turned into a proper interest but im always happy to share information and pictures... its kind of why i started adding reference photos to my posts

I dont really know much about legends and other myths myself; im actually really bad at remembering stories like that, and while i find them interesting in concept i never really got to go in depth on them... so im assuming you mean customs? In which case im happy to tell you im planning a little something on this years first year of spring... If my mind allows me. Id be really sad to pass a one-year opportunity like that. Hopefully i wont

Pozdrawiam :)

[nysus-temple]

ULTRAKILL's Greek Folklore references (2)

Aaaye remember this post? Let's say Sisyphus already came out as a boss and I have quite a bunch of stuff to talk about. I'll focus only on him since everything else was covered in the previous essay.

Just like in the previous essay, BEFORE YOU GO DOWN this is, to no one's surprise, filled with spoilers. While it's true that lore in this game is secondary, if you wanna learn it by yourself when playing it, then save this reading for later. ULTRAKILL is avaible at Steam, it's filled with blood, but it's still a masterpiece, me thinks.

· Small Introduction:

There's many people out there who have already talked about everything that reminds them of the Divine Comedy regarding the game, besides the fact that it takes inspiration in DMC too; but almost no one seems to notice the details that reference Greek folklore, and it's true that they are not THAT important, most likely i'm just imagining references in places where there are actually none, but this is what brainrot does to a girl who- well, is a classical philology student lmao. So wether they are true or not, i'll still will write this thing down or else i'll explode with my thoughts.

· ULTRAKILL's King Sisyphus:

"King Sisyphus has acted in secret until now, amassing an army whose strength and numbers swell, but now there is no need to hide anymore. We have lived in the shadow of Heaven long enough to forget the taste of fear. Now the Sisyphean Insurrectionists prepare for war.

❝ I have heard of Minos beginning a peaceful revolution, but our King Sisyphus knows such pacificity will gain no favor from our cruel captors. He knows that one can only fight power with power, and he shall lead us to freedom.❞

^ Text from a book found in the second level of the Greed Layer.

If you remember Minos' lore, Minos instead decided to do a peaceful revolution, building his own shenanigans in the Lust Layer, but Sisyphus didn't think the same way; he decided to do a revolution too, but it was anything but peaceful.

❝ The Sisyphean Insurrectionists were an army of Husks gathered and trained by King Sisyphus for overthrowing Heaven's control of Hell, freeing the sinners from their eternal torment. […]

Upon the establishment of the Council and subsequent return of peace to Heaven, Gabriel and an army of angels were sent down to crush the insurrection and subjugate Sisyphus' army.

Although their battle was well-fought, the inexperienced Insurrectionist could not match the educated strategy of the angels, who quickly descended upon King Sisyphus with great force, eventually overpowering and killing him, leaving the Insurrectionists without a chain of command.

Left scattered and disoriented, the warriors were easily picked off one by one, their bodies cut apart, leaving behind only the bare essentials to carry on their eternal punishment of hauling heavy boulders up the monuments of mankind's arrogance and greed.

Although the blood of their enemies still stains their bodies and their grasp still clutches their fallen foes, their will and fierce fury only serve as mental torment in knowing how close they were to freedom.❞

^ Terminal data of the Sisyphean Insurrectionists in the game

The Insurrectionists mantain Greek Sisyphus' original punishment, carrying a rock up to the top of a mountain ( n the game, a pyramid) that will eventually fall down again.

(Greek amphora of Sisyphus pushing the rock in the Underworld, meanwhile, Persephone watches over him, making sure that he does not try to avoid his punishment. [Yes the dick is out.])

Now, more interesting details… Greek King Sisyphus wasn't that much liked by the gods since he, wellp, cheated death a couple times and... Screwed up a lot of times too. For context:

(Apollodorus - Bibliotheca) He murdered his guests, which was seen as extremelly horrible since one of the main important things in Ancient Greece was hospitality. And a king who murders his guests isn't that good of a host.

They sent Death (Θάνατος [Thanatos]) to catch him for this main reason. But Sisyphus tricked him and captured him. And since Death being captured meant no people dying, Ares then went to go and stop Sisyphus.

Knowing he was gonna be killed, Sisyphus asked his wife to not give his corpse a proper funeral, and instead to throw him away. After this, he lied to the gods and manipulated them, telling either Persephone or Hades (or both) that his wife disrespected him by not giving him a proper funeral, and they allowed his soul to go back to his corpse.

After Sisyphus had died of old age, is when his punishment starts. He commited so many crimes and yet, the way he felt was never spoken. Even blind and old in the Underworld, he would continue his punishment.

Greek Sisyphus was thrown into the Underworld with a punishment and Greek Minos was turned into a Judge of the Underworld; in this game, Minos' corpse is still used as some kind of Judge… More or else, as I said before. Meanwhile, Sisyphus corpse isn't used at all, it is just imprisoned, with no head, even. Perhaps that has something to do with the Greek Sisyphus being punished instead of turning into a Judge of Hell, or similar, like the Greek Minos was?

Oh, by the way, unlike Minos being blind being due to him being a Judge and Justice is blind; Sisyphus was blinded by greed, so he literally is blinded by gold. Just like how the Greek Minos was a Judge as well, and Greek Sisyphus was a greedy king who killed guests in his palace in order to get their goods, a violation of guest-obligations in Ancient Greece.

❝ To him, fighting an impossible battle with full knowledge of its futility and taking joy in just the act of resistance itself is the ultimate rebellion against the oppressor. ❞

^ Terminal data of Sisyphus' Prime in the game.

"Ah… So concludes the life and times, of King Sisyphus. A fitting end, to an existence defined by futile struggle. Doomed, from the very start. And I don't regret a SECOND of it!" — Sisyphus Prime final lines after being defeated by the player.

Both Greek Sisyphus and ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus are cunning, in Homer's Iliad he's described as the most cunning of the greeks, before Odysseus takes that title. (And, fun fact, Odysseus is considered Sisyphus' son by many tragedy authors! If you remember my other ULTRAKILL essay, you'll remember how I considered the Wrath layer to be an Odyssey reference). In the Odyssey, Sisyphus' punishment is described, but we don't exactly know how he feels. Does he feel regret? Does he not? We can suppose that he does, since that punishment is... Yeah, tiring. But those are just assumptions, so, who knows, perhaps he does not regret anything, just like ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus.

It's true that ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus is most likely based on later-on depictions of the myth, philosophical interpretations and such, but that's not my job, I just ramble.

In any case, Greek Sisyphus even tricked the divine, and ULTRAKILL's Sisyphus fought the divine.

In the end, we can't see none of the two Sisyphus' faces during their punishment, and yet... ❝ One must imagine Sisyphus happy.❞

[ava-of-shenanigans]

“Shut Up and Dance” is a Hathor x Horus song, in this essay I will—

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐈. “Trees” also symbolize wisdom. In one of the legends, a sage hanging upside down on a tree had acquired the knowledge of how to inscribe runes and control sacred words, and thus followed the kingdom established along the tree's roots, eventually gaining a glimpse of the secret of the cosmos / demonic skies. All knowledge, memory, and experience flow through this giant tree [...].

Reading this description, it got me thinking if the kingdom that is alluded in the Silver Twig's description is Khaenri'ah. While it doesn't have to be necessarily it (there is a terrifying readable that talks about a kingdom even further down below than Khaenri'ah viewed in a dream), it's also true that Khaenri'ah is the kingdom we know of that was established underground. There is knowledge about Khaenri'ah using the Ley Lines as a source of energy (they made blocks out of the elements they carry, to be precise) until relatively close to the Cataclysm that they switched it for abyssal energy, so it is safe to presume that they were in touch with Irminsul be it directly or indirectly.

Where I want to go with this is the recurring thought I have sometimes of the role as Bough Keeper (also known as Seeker of Truth, Guardian of the Branches, Observer of Fate or The one who picks up the branches) stems from the Khaenri'ahn times, hence the possibility that there was a more spiritual (not religious, although the devotion many have for the Abyss is if not outright religious, borderline) faction that held ceremonies around Irminsul or one of its emanations in a similar fashion as Sal Vidagnyr did by sending a priest to offer the tree a crown of white branches as tribute and seeking answers that Irminsul did give them once the gods stopped answering to humans (Irminsul also was the one that warned the last king priest of the coming calamity that would happen to the civilization and, as it announced him, he came back to the whole devastation).

There is one last detail that could make this possibility viable and is the fact that there is a sword art known among the Black Serpent Knights named "Truthseeker", which could be adapted to other weapons as well. While not directly related to Irminsul per se, there is this link with one of the translations Bough Keeper has as Seeker of Truth.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

would love your opinion of the newest episode of DW, if you get the chance.

HAHAHAHA YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS

Alright okay so

I only have one complaint, which is that that wasn't a faerie ring. You could still have the shamble, no problem, but it should have been over the top of an actual faerie ring, which should be a mushroom (or, at a push, stone) circle. Not some cotton that would blow clean off the cliff edge in three minutes.

HOWEVER

This is the first time I've seen Doctor Who do a time travel story using, not Doctor Who time travel lore and rules, but Welsh faerie rules. (First time I've seen anything do it, in fact.) In Welsh myth, people who enter faerie rings or get entranced by the music become suspended in time, out of sync with the real world. They think they danced for a night, but when they return it's been 100 years, and they crumble to dust as soon as they eat/drink/step on land/etc.

In this case, this is what I think happened to Ruby. She spent that time in Annwfn, seeing what would happen if the binding on the ring was broken. When she 'dies', she returns to the spot and lasts long enough to give her younger self the warning, then crumbles to dust.

But, a time travelling Ruby is not the woman who follows her throughout the episode. That, in fact, is a gwyll.

The gwyllion were hag faeries, usually of mountain tops (though Pembrokeshire's liminal cliffs are 100% from Welsh mythology - it was said that if you found a faerie ring on one but only put one foot in, you could see the faerie islands in the sea. And that faeries used to visit the human markets in Pembrokeshire and Ceredigion. So while gwyllion are unusual there, it's not an impossible relocation.) They were malicious and sometimes vicious faeries who delighted in making people lose their way, could strike an uncontrollable and ungodly terror into travellers, and who feature in more that one myth as an old woman that someone tried to approach, but they always appeared at the same distance away, impossible to catch up.

CAN YOU SEE THE PARALLELS

And the best part!! Is that this is why she defeats UNIT!!!

Kate tells Ruby that her agents have necklaces of silver and salt to keep out the supernatural, but that's just generic fairytale shit. That doesn't work on gwyllion. Salt drawn in a line would provide a barrier, but the UNIT soldiers aren't trying to trap or block the gwyll; they're trying to capture her. What works, very specifically, is a knife. Iron or steel for preference of course, but it needs to be a knife.

But UNIT has no Welsh employees and the soldiers have guns, not knives. And so they all become entranced.

(This is also what I think the gwyll 'says' to everyone to turn them against Ruby. She doesn't say anything - she sings.)

This is also the first time I've ever encountered any mainstream media doing Welsh faeries and understanding the tone to strike, which is 'unknowable, unstoppable and fucking terrifying'. I think I've only ever read it in Catharine Fisher books, and she's a Welsh author so... yeah, obviously. But I basically vibrated with delight and excitement for the entire episode.

Oh my god, hang on, Roger ap Gwilliam! Okay, I have two theories about him.

My weaker theory and the one I don't like is the kind of boring and obvious one, which is that he is himself not human. A lot of Welsh folklore features the devil, and I get that vibe from his role in the story. But, I'm not keen, because I can't see the link to the gwyll.

But my strongest theory, and the one I have chosen to believe, is that he's a human who made a deal with the Fae for power, and then reneged. There's a Metric Fuckton of stories about humans fucking up Fae gifts in some way, and the punishment is usually something ironic but always results in the loss of the gift. It could be a faerie harp that makes everyone dance, and the Fae tell the giftee not to abuse it, but they cruelly force everyone to dance so long and so hard that the faerie returns, takes back the harp, and then takes the human's ability to ever make music again, so example (by taking fingers or eyes or tongues as well, often.)

So I think Mad Jack strikes a bargain for power - but, then tries to abuse that power (nuclear war). But part of the bargain is that the Fae cannot approach him directly ever again. In the real world, they therefore tempt him into the faerie ring and bind his soul there, problem solved - until the Doctor accidentally lets him out, and gets his own soul stuck. Ruby, therefore, becomes the instrument through which they manage to take that power away once again - and then, her final Fae gift for her service is that they use the temporal anomaly of the faerie ring to send her back, at the end of her life, and give her a second chance. This time, with Mad Jack's soul left bound in Annwfn.

The fun part is, RTD is a writer who understands the power of not explaining everything and leaving some things up to the viewer's imagination, so none of this is ever going to be explained lol. But yeah, that is a gwyll. The moment she appeared, I said out loud "Oh holy fuck, gwyllion." That was a gwyll.

As a final observation, I loved seeing Siân Phillips, and I choose to believe they filmed those scenes in a pub because they could only get Siân if they agreed to just come to her local. The woman is a queen.

[ragde890]

So... Chainsaw Man 180.

The chapter starts with Yoru doing the same Bang posture she was doing before trying to attack Aging with the finger bullet. With this, we confirm that the whole Aging speech at the end of 179 happened while he stopped/slowed time (hence the blurred lines).

After that, we've got the dream scene, which an incredibly cool detail.

For those who don't remember, in chapter 110 we have a dream sequence with Asa. It's a recurring dream where she's running down an alleway, the ground full of dead chickens (a reference to Bucky, at that point of the story). She tries not to step on them, but it's so full of bodies that she can't avoid it.

People have been talking a long time now about how this dream sequence actually connects with Asa and Yoru's relationship (specially this last chapters, with Asa being just an spectator as Yoru murders thousands with her own body). Although it is important to mention that this time, there are no chicken on the floor (or at least we don't see them during the chapter 180 dream sequence).

In any case, I think it's always cool when this kind of analysis that has been under discussion for months is being adressed so directly.

After seeing Denji for the first time since July 17, we've got the Aging World scene, and the main point of speculation in this chapter: the human that escaped that world a long time ago.

I've seen people theorize about that human being Quanxi. However, I think the most plausable option (albeit it's still just speculation) is Yoshida. Not only is he someone who looks like a teenager but clearly isn't one and can survave a 1v1 against Quanxi, but also we've got this inside cover art of him from two volumes ago:

Doesn't this place look familiar?

And yes, I know it might sound crazy to interpret cover art as foreshadowing. But it's not the time this happens in CSM. Take for example the inside cover art from volume 12, where we can see what looks like the buildings Yoru destroyed on chapter 178.

Not only that, but Yoshida being that person would add to Yoshida's and Aging interaction some chapters ago (as it wouldn't be the first time Aging is surprised at something Yoshida does) and that one dialogue from part 1:

And to close, I'd like to talk about the sideburns guy "Mreeee" at the end (as well as the whole pressing his head against the tree thing).

People have pointed out that it looks as if he's trying to mimick a cycada at the end of its life (maybe hoping that it will kill him). This might also relate to cycada's role in greek mythology, as they're related to inmortality:

In any case, I think it's really cool that —now that we've seen that Aging's powers are actually the opposite of that — we confirm that devils can represent the opposite of what they're supposed to embody (which helps to the birth devil theory).

[just-a-ghost00]

Who's your next boo?

Group 1

General info | Death, The Moon, page of swords, Queen of pentacles, 5 of cups, 3 of pentacles

This person is an introvert, a lone wolf, someone that doesn't share a lot of information about them. They have a rather juvenile yet mysterious vibe. They give me Wednesday Addams vibes. This is someone that is very intense, serious, they don't joke with connections. If they let you in their circle, that means that they trust you and that isn't an easy thing for them to do so you should feel lucky, kind of feeling. This is someone that feels very unlucky in love and relationships overall but is extremely effective when it comes to their job and studies. We have someone who's witty, snarky, productive. A workaholic. Someone that works well in teams, especially when they feel encouraged and valuated. This person is a major stalker. When you think you got them figured out you discover a new layer of their personality that puts everything in question. They, however, have figured you out right from the start. This is someone that is extremely observant. They could be into occultism, mythology, horror movies, documentaries about history or science, dark fantasy movies and novels, and so on. They have a very deep personality and can be very giving, generous, kind. However, they appear extremely cold and ruthless towards others, especially when you don't know them. This person is known to have a shitty personality and a lot of people may bad mouth them. But the reality is that they know nothing about your person. And they want it to stay this way. Your person doesn't care about what other people think. They are fine with being alone if it means protecting themselves from harm. They've been through a lot so they are extremely wary around people. But once you get past their shell, you will discover a true diamond. In terms of zodiac signs, I'm getting major Scorpio vibes, as well as Cancer and Taurus. When it comes to their physical appearance, I'm picturing someone rather small with a very bold look. They could wear a lot of black, but it doesn't have to be. Even if their clothes are colorful, the way they dress gives a very strict and dangerous kind of vibe. They could wear a lot of leather, boots, baggy clothes, bombers and so on. I think their skin is rather fair, but again that doesn't have to be the case for everyone. However, there is definitely something about their eyes, especially if their chart is heavily influenced by Scorpio. And their face can sometimes look expressionless or rigid, a bit like a porcelain doll. In certain situations that can be kind of creepy.

Context | 3 of cups, 2 of cups, King of pentacles, 5 of cups, 7 of wands

You may meet them in a working context or because of your work in an indirect way. I'm picking up on someone being dissatisfied with how things are going in their career. At some point, that person decides to act on it and try to tip the scales in their favor. For some reason, that person ends up at some sort of a gathering. Somewhere entertaining, where people are having fun. It can be a club, a bar, a concert, a convention, a family reunion, a celebration held by a company to wish someone well. You get my drift. In such context, both of you meet when you least expected it. I feel like on both ends, going to this gathering wasn't part of your initial plan. But you both felt like you had to go. For some of you, this meeting may already have happened. However, your connection with this person is in it's beginning stages. I get a feeling of someone competing to get the other's attention. People just mindlessly having fun and trying to forget about their issues. Feeling relieved and optimistic about life again after a long period of self doubt and struggles. It's like this meeting is happening at the right place and the right time but both had no idea they needed each other so badly until they crossed paths.

Signs to look for | The Lovers, The Sun, Death, Wheel of Fortune

When a major shift is happening in your life and you feel like you're going through a rebirth in all areas of your life, that may be a sign that this person is coming into your life. When you are starting to feel positive about love and relationships again, when you feel like you're finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. After an important decision that changes the game for you, whether it's in your career, in your studies or on a personal level.

-> Other possible signs : apples, clouds, doves, snakes, Gemini season, May, June, numbers 6/19/13/10, Leo season, July, August, skeletons, sandtimer, Scorpio season, October, November, crowns, sphinx, egyptian mythology, fixed signs, wheels

Group 2

General info | 7 of cups, 2 of pentacles, Temperance, The Lovers, Judgement, 9 of swords

In terms of Zodiac signs, we have Libra, Gemini, Sagittarius, in other words mainly mutable signs. This is someone that could be described as "wishy washy" by others. They may be the type of person that struggles to make decisions, that often times feels indecisive when faced with many options. Someone that may have a hard time focusing on one thing at a time, and that may include people. We have someone that likes to remain in their comfort zone because it reassures them. We have someone that also lives a very balanced life. They always do the same things over and over again without getting bored. They are rather optimistic about life, even if they tend to overthink and may struggle with depression at times. This is someone that is shy around strangers and tends to keep things surface level with people in general. They can seem a bit naive and dreamy, a bit of a perfectionist sometimes. They are sociable to some extent and wish to get closer to people but they have a hard time opeining up for fear of rejection. This is someone that is curious and enjoys trying various hobbies, they may enjoy traveling and meeting up with people from various cultures. In terms of their physical appearance, I'm picturing someone rather slim, tall. That has a very casual vibe to them. Someone that people barely notice on the street because of how shy they are. This may be someone that walks silently and doesn't engage in conversations unless they've been invited to. Outside, they are the type to keep their headphones in their ears and come back home as fast as they can. They may have a fear of crowds and stutter sometimes. They could have wavy hair or long bangs that hide their eyes. They could wear a lot of hats or caps. They give me Tyler Galpin vibes. They're sweet and kind, they don't cause much trouble but they don't know how to act around people. They may have a hard time processing their own feelings, let alone that of others. They tend to have social anxiety.

Context | 3 of wands, 4 of swords, 3 of swords, 7 of cups, 6 of wands

For this group I am picking up on health and travel related causes of meeting. I'm picking up on someone deciding to take a break from something in their life that has really exhausted them. That break ends up being a travel of some sort. It could be a short term travel or a really big one, it depends on your situation. That person is really hurt and needs to take time for themselves to overcome whatever pain they are going through. It could be because of a break up, because of a burn out, because they've lost a loved one or because they are struggling with important health issues. Anyways, this person chooses to cut ties with whatever has been weighing on their mind and get back to a more cheerful spirit. Both of you may be going through a similar experience and this could be the reason why you bond very quickly. This connection could start as a friendship. For some reason, I'm picking up on a race. Maybe both of you decide to do a marathon or something sports related to take care of your respective health and have an activity that can help you take your mind off of your worries. That could be running, swimming, hiking, anything really. I get a feeling of you two celebrating a victory of some sort and this bringing you closer. This happy event could be the trigger that turns this friendship into a romantic connection.

Signs to look for | 4 of wands, The Lovers, 9 of pentacles, Death

When someone around you is getting married or engaged in some type of way, when you are choosing to remain single and start anew instead of building a relationship with a partner, when you are cutting ties with someone from your family/close circle thus choosing your well-being over people pleasing. When you feel like you are doing good on your own and don't need anyone to feel valuable and worthy of love. When you are prioritizing your needs and happiness over that of others. Those are all signs that this person is near.

-> Other signs : mannor, forest, celebrations (marriages, birthday parties, winning a sports event...), clouds, snakes, apples, doves, Gemini season, May, June, numbers 4/6/9/13 , a public garden, an important domain, an iron gate, skeletons, crows, sandtimer, Scorpio season, October, November

Group 3

General info | 10 of wands, The Moon, The Star, page of swords, 7 of wands, 3 of pentacles

This may be someone that is an influencer, a celebrity of some sort or at least someone that uses social media a lot in the context of their work. This is also someone that is very busy and currently single. This is a person that feels burdened and exhausted by the important amount of responsibilities that they have to deal with on a daily basis. This is someone that is very secretive, hard working, a fast learner, someone curious, chatty when they feel like it, with a strong mind and a combattive spirit. This person likes competition. They strive to be the number one in everything they do. They could be studying on the side, when they're not working to improve their skills and sharpen their mind. In terms of zodiac signs, we have Cancer, Leo, Aquarius mostly. When it comes to their appearance, this is someone that is conventionally attractive. They have a bit of a trendy nerd aesthetic or overworked light academia vibe. They're quite classy when it comes to the way they dress. It's not exhuberant but you definitely feel that they have the money. This is someone that is sociable but tends to be alone because of how busy they are and how much of a workaholic they can be. They may have a bit of a mischievous look. What I am mostly picking up on is someone with a strong jaw, that tends to frown their eyebrows and looks tense. They may wear glasses from time to time. They give me Xavier Thorpe vibes. This is the type of person that hides their kindness behind a cocky brawler attitude. They may sometimes be voluntarily arrogant to keep certain types of people away from them. They don't like to be messed with and appreciate their tranquility. Despite that, most people still admire them and they may be very popular among their peers, especially if they hold an important position.

Context | 6 of cups, 5 of swords, Judgement, page of cups, ace of cups

You may be going back to your childhood home. If not, you are recontacting old friends or acquaintances. I feel like someone here is trying to make peace with their past to be able to move on romantically speaking. So maybe you decide to contact your ex partner to have a discussion about what went on between you and close that chapter. Or you contact one of your old friends to catch up on what's been going on in their life because you miss them and you feel like you haven't been fair to them. Maybe this is a group thing. Anyways, that initiative leads you to meeting this person. The connection is instant. You're quick to judge this person and know that you like them, that you're interested in them. They may reciprocate the feeling. Whether you or they make the move first I feel like this connection is going to evolve rather quickly. Within the night for some or a few days later, you are going to be kissing and asking each other out. For both of you, this may be a rebound connection. It may be quick for you to be with this person and just as quick to seperate ways. But I feel like you'll have a good time with them and keep good memories of them. They may remain your friend even if you break up. For some of you, this person may be one of your exes. If you weren't in a relationship with this person in the past, you at least were interested by them to some extent but this may not have lead to anything when you first met them. But now that times has passed and both of you have evolved, you may be in a better disposition to be together.

Signs to look for | ace of swords, 9 of cups, 7 of cups, 4 of pentacles

You may be dreaming of this person before you meet them. You may receive an unexpected message, either from them or someone you both have in common. You may be saving money for a dream of yours, if that is your case, that may be a sign this person is near. You may also receive positive news, unexpected news about a project that is dear to your heart. You didn't talk about this project to your loved ones. This is something that was a secret. You may hear a surprising rumour.

-> other signs : snakes, daggers, crowns, feathers, piglets, roman architecture, old roman temples, numbers 1/9/7/4 , water sign seasons, taurus season, greek mythology

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth���that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[sweatervest-obsessed]

New Shade of Green

Pairing: Spencer x Reader (gn!)

WC: 2.7k

TW: implications of murder, serial killer talk, mentions of abuse, crying, anger, swearing <3, Men sucking so bad

a/n: This was a request, which you can see here. Jealous Spencer was so fun to write! Enjoy babes!!!

"Oh my god. Shut the fuck up! I didn't know you were the consultant for this case!" You hopped up out of your seat on the jet to greet the man you called your best friend. 

His eyes lit up when he saw you, wrapping an arm around you, squeezing you tightly. "I assume you didn't read the text I sent you last week."

You laughed and pulled out of the hug slightly, hand still on his arm. "I never read anything you send me."

Spencer, whose hand you had abandoned when you got up to say hi to Oliver, was zeroed in on the fact that your hand was still on Oliver's arm, and Oliver's arm was still slightly wrapped around your waist. 

"Team, this is Oliver Swerdanski, my best friend and specialist in classics--" 

"Norse mythology specifically." 

It was not lost on the team that you clearly had a type. Oliver was about 6 feet tall, in a sweater, and wearing wired glasses frames. He was slightly buffer than Spencer, but not as tall. (something Spencer noted the first time you had introduced the two)

The team nodded and said their hellos, more interested in the shifting dynamics of the plane since you hadn't left Oliver's side, opting to sit with him on the couch instead of your usual seat by the window, next to a certain green-faced Doctor. 

The flight was going to be a long one. 

Eventually, Derek felt terrible enough for Spencer that he stopped by you and Oliver on his way to get some coffee. 

"So, Oliver, how long have you known our dear Y/N here." 

Oliver smiled over at you with a glint in his eye that most of the profilers on the plane noticed. Except for you. 

"Oh, well. We go way back." 

You nodded enthusiastically, just happy to have the company of an old friend. "We were neighbors growing up--you could say he's my childhood best friend." 

"That turned into one of your now best friends..."

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it asshat.”

Derek smiled slightly, realizing this was going to be an interesting case “Well, it’s nice to meet you Oliver.”

He left the two of you alone, taking your abandoned seat next to Spencer, a slight smirk washing over his face as he did. 

“Aren’t you the picture of joy this morning?” 

“Not in the mood, Derek,” Spencer mumbled, staring intently out the window, trying not to let his jealousy get the better. It’s not like it mattered since he was surrounded by profilers who could read him like a book. 

“What do you think of Oliver?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and Derek chuckled. “Good luck, kid.” 

And with that, Derek left Spencer alone, knowing he had his plate filled with more than enough shit for however long this case would be. 

And it didn’t help anything that you were completely oblivious to both men: both of them filled to the brim with envy of the other, having what they each thought the other had—your attention. 

____________________________________________________________

Four years ago, Hotch had made you and Spencer share a bedroom, causing a chain of events to lead to the fact that you still share one now. 

Three years of dating had made you feel very comfortable in your relationship; You loved Spencer Reid. This was not some passing affliction, it was simply a fact of the universe. You would move hell and earth if he asked you to. 

But not right now. Right now? You kind of wanted to punch him. He was ignoring you, or at least that’s what it felt like. The car ride was completely silent. You could tell something was upsetting him, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure why he was so distant. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong.” 

He shrugged, effectively trying to murder the conversation before it even had the chance to live. 

You frowned slightly, shifting in your seat slightly, and looking over at him. 

“What’s going on?” 

You heard him mumble something under his breath, unsure of what he was saying, but it just made you even more upset. 

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“I said. I’m fine.” Spencer huffed. 

“Well, clearly you aren’t.”

“Believe whatever you want to fucking believe then.”

And that’s where the conversation ended, leaving you effectively lost. Especially since he wouldn’t hold your hand in the car ride back and then didn’t wait for you as he walked straight into the police station. 

This was going to be a long case. 

___________________________________________________________

And you were right. 

Spencer ignored you at every chance he could. Even in the hotel room, he’d go to bed without you, no holding one another, no late-night talks, nothing. He would just get ready for bed in silence and then turn away from you. 

And tonight, you couldn’t deal with it anymore. He had been ignoring you for over a week and now that it looked like the case was going to take longer, you couldn’t stand it. Instead of getting into bed, you grabbed your phone and wallet and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door behind you. 

You went down to the hotel bar and ordered yourself a tequila shot, downing it quickly before getting your regular drink. 

Oliver slid into the seat next to you, hand on your arm. 

“I haven’t seen you do tequila that fast since freshman year of college.” 

You gave him a dry laugh and took another sip of your drink. “Desperate times.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really. I’m just. I’m aggravated.” 

“Come on, babe, it’s me.” Oliver rubbed his hand up and down your arm. “You can always talk to me—so tell me what’s been going on. Boy troubles?”

You sighed. “It’s just…I don’t know what’s going on with Spencer. He’s barely said like three sentences to me since the case began, and clearly, he’s upset with me, but I have no fucking idea why since he’s being a stubborn ass and won’t talk to me. How the fuck am I supposed to fix something if he won’t even tell me what’s wrong.” 

Oliver rubbed his thumb across your arm. It felt intimate because it was, but this was Oliver, who only had the best intentions for you, who you had known since you were a little kid.

“He sounds like a douche babe.” 

You leaned away slightly, face becoming unrecognizable for a moment. “Okay, well, that’s not what I said. He’s clearly just upset abou—” 

“You kinda did. He’s acting like you don’t exist, and clearly, he doesn’t care about how all of this is affecting you.” 

You went to rebuttal his claims because Spencer would never be that callous; he’d never treat you like that. But he kind of was. “It’s only because something is wrong and…”

“So he treats you like this whenever he can’t communicate with you.”

“Well not…he doesn’t…” You were starting to doubt yourself, unable to keep up with the accusations. 

“He doesn’t what. Because it sounds like you’re saying he treats you like shit when he gets upset with you…”

“What are you trying to insinuate? That he hits me? Oliv–”

“I’m just saying that behavior–”

What? Oliver, no. Stop twisting my words.” 

“I’m not twisting your words; I’m just stating what I’m seeing.” 

“What you’re seeing? You’ve been here for a week. You don’t know the past three years.”

“It’s been a week and he’s still treating you like this. And honestly, whenever I come around, he…” Oliver moved his hand to your thigh, causing you to frown deeply. 

“Oliver. Step off.” 

He shook his head. “You’re upset. And I want to help.” 

You shoved his hand off your thigh and stood up. You left cash on the bar, standing up and moving away from Oliver. 

Oliver watched as you walked away, frowning once you couldn’t see him anymore. 

____________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer was woken up, and you were curled into his chest, sleeping soundly. He couldn’t move. He ghosted his lips over your forehead, causing you to stir slightly, clinging to him more. 

“Morning.” He whispered to you. 

You hummed and gripped a bit tighter to him. “Don’t go.”

Your voice broke Spencer’s heart a little bit. It’s not that he didn’t feel bad about the way he was treating you, it’s just that Oliver kept provoking him, making him turn greener every single time he saw Oliver talking to you. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.” 

“Oh so now we’re back to nicknames.” You grumbled into his chest. “I’m still mad at you.” 

He signed and brushed your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry Y/N. Let me make it up to you, yeah?” 

“You can make it up to me when we get home.” 

“Deal.” He kissed your head again, just as your cell phone began to ring. 

_________________________________________________________

After two grueling weeks on this godforsaken case, everyone was ready to get home. 

The rest of the case caused serious tension for the group because the mythology was the only thing tying these murders together, and your geoprofile was all over the place, meaning these two killers were too good at what they were doing. 

Once you had been shot at, and nearly grazed by a bullet, you would have expected Spencer to continue to speak to you, but all he did was stare at you from afar. It was infuriating. 

You couldn’t get a read on him. For the rest of the week, he had been speaking to you, kissing you, holding your hand; then after checking on you while you were getting checked out, he stopped speaking to you. 

The entire team watched you and Spencer shift back into the dynamic duo you were, functioning better than before. They watched as Oliver got more frustrated as you continued to ignore him unless it was a necessary part of the investigation. Maybe you had figured it out–they hoped you had.

Instead of trying to deal with even more bullshit, you opted to sit alone at the back of the plane, headphones on. It was one of those many unspoken rules about the plane that everyone knew not to disturb you while your headphones were on unless they wanted to get bitch slapped. 

Well, everyone except for Oliver. 

You were deep in thought, trying to mull over why Spencer wasn’t talking to you–both times– going over every scenario you possibly could and figuring out what changed during that first day. 

Oliver got up, ready to go and talk to you, his intentions pretty clear from the look on his face, but Derek grabbed his arm, effectively yanking him back down into his seat. 

“What the fuck man?” 

“Don’t bug Y/N while they have headphones on.” If Spencer wasn’t going to stand up for you, then Derek absolutely was. Oliver might have been your best friend, but Derek was your family. 

“It’s just music…”

“Yeah,” Hotch spoke up, not looking away from the report in his hands. “And no one wants to clean up your blood when you get murdered for trying to interrupt that music.” 

“Look. As Y/n’s best friend, I’m outside of most of their rules–”

“I don't think so.” Derek stood up, fully ready to restrain this man. 

“What the fuck is going on.” You had stood up, and turned around, headphones out of your ears, and my god did you look fucking pissed off. “I don’t know why is everyone arguing so loudly, but if we could keep the volume at a fucking minimum that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

The team stared back at you, except for Hotch who just had a slightly amused look on his face as he filled out paperwork. You glared at Oliver and Derek, who were standing opposite of you. “Can I help you two or…”

Derek shook his head. “Go back to your music. We’re sorry.”  

“Thank you.” You grumbled to the group, sliding your headphones back over your ears, attaching a ‘sorry’ to the group as you did so. You moved further back on the plane, sitting on the couch, glaring at anyone who looked at you. 

This has been a stressful two weeks for you. Oliver was acting all weird all of a sudden, –causing you to reevaluate your entire relationship with him, considering he was trying to make Spencer sound like a villain. And then Spencer, acting like a villain and ignoring you all week, then acting like nothing happened, and then ignoring you again for another twenty-four hours. You couldn’t take it anymore. And, on top of all of this, you had lost two more victims to the unsub, because one of the killers worked in the station, using his knowledge to avoid the BAU. 

You were overwhelmed and frustrated, and you just wanted some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? 

“I should go apologize–” Oliver didn’t move to sit back down.

Spencer stood up and shoved past Oliver, moving to sit on the couch with you, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Can I help you?” 

Spencer shrugged and opened his book, knowing you’d rather have whatever conversation he was willing to have now, in private. He opted to just read and be in your company. It was easily recognizable as the beginning of an apology, and you would take it. You maneuvered so your back was up against his arm, initiating the amount of touch you were willing to have, but also not crossing a line. 

The plane ride was silent the rest of the way. 

______________________________________________________________________________

“I’m sorry for this w–the past two weeks really. I-I’ve been really in my own head and–”

You let out a hefty sigh, tossing your keys on the counter and your bag down next to the door. Spencer followed suit, closing the door behind the two of you as you went into the kitchen to put on the kettle to make some tea. 

“Are you going to tell me what was going on? What the fuck happened?”

He sighed back at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. 

And while you muttered your displeasure, you didn’t move away from him at all, opting to grouchily mumble in his ear, while Spencer ran his thumb up and down your back, listening to you mumble. 

“I–god Spence. You just dropped me like all week, and then suddenly—”

“I-I know. I was awful. I’m so so sorry.”  

“That’s not an explanation.” You mumbled into his chest.

“I….” Spencer swallowed whatever sort of pride he thought he would be saving and opted to tell you. “I…It was Oliver, and-and the way you were treating him, an-and you sat next to him on the plane and he was touching you and he was constantly holding you and stealing your attention away and—”

You pulled away slightly to get a look at your boyfriend. “Spencer Reid, were you jealous?” 

He cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

You placed a soft kiss on his neck, causing him to hum. “You have nothing to be worried about Spence. You are it for me. No one can change that, especially not Oliver.”

Spencer looked down and smiled again. You smiled back at him, pulling him to you for a kiss. 

It was recentering your universe. Everything was the way it should be–your lips on Spencer's, his hands around his waist, and a glowing sunset peering through your windows. 

The kettle whistled loudly, causing the two of you to jump apart, startled at the sound. 

“That was a good start, Spence. Once I finish my tea, you can show me how else you can keep making it up to me.” You smirked slightly, turning around to take the kettle off of the stove and grab the tea and mugs. 

Spencer has never been so excited to drink a cup of tea, and honestly, neither had you. 

[fatecantstopme]

She's My Siren

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: The boys are working a case where several men have brutally murdered their wives for no apparent reason. Turns out they were influenced by a siren. The siren sees Dean and appears to him as someone he knows.

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting. Fluffy fluff fluff.

"So what do you think this is? Just a bunch of dudes ganking their wives?"

"I mean, that's what's happening," Sam replied with a shrug. "but I think something is making them do it."

"Well they're not possessed, so what's doing it?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe we should call Bobby and (Y/N)."

Dean groaned. "She's gonna laugh at us for not figuring it out."

Sam smiled. "Probably, but we do need their help."

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed a very familiar number.

"Hey Sam. Having some trouble?" Bobby answered on the second ring.

"We can't figure out what's causing these guys to kill their wives."

"Tell me what you've got so far," (Y/N)'s voice said from the other end of the phone.

Sam put the phone on speaker so Dean could talk. "All we've got is four guys who murdered their wives for basically no reason. No possession, no shapeshifters, nada."

"All the husbands knew exactly what they were doing...and they all regret it," Sam added.

"Anything else?" Bobby asked.

"All of them met their 'perfect' woman not long before killing their wives," Dean answered.

"Define 'perfect'," (Y/N) said.

"They all said 'she was perfect in every way. Exactly what I wanted'," Sam responded.

The boys couldn't see the look Bobby and (Y/N) exchanged, but they did hear her soft chuckle. "And you boys couldn't think of anything that could fit that description?"

Dean gave Sam an 'I told you so' look. "I'm guessing you have something in mind?" he said aloud.

"I do indeed," she answered. "Ever hear of a Siren?"

"A Siren?" Dean asked. "Like Greek Mythology?"

Sam gave Dean a surprised look.

"I can read, you know," Dean mumbled.

"Yes, like Greek Mythology," (Y/N) said with a small smile. "What do you remember from the stories?"

"Uhh...they're super hot women who lured sailors to their deaths?" Dean said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and Bobby chuckled. "Sort of," Bobby replied. "They're actually quite hideous, but they can read minds. They appear to the guy as their ideal perfect woman, put some mojo on them, and make them kill."

"What kind of mojo?" Dean asked.

"Don't really know," Bobby answered. "Siren songs aren't really songs...more like a spell that falls on the person."

"Okay, so how do we find her?" Sam asked.

"Honestly, boys, my money is on her finding you," (Y/N) said.

"Great," Dean mumbled. "So...how do we kill a Siren?"

"We're...uh--gonna have to get back to you on that one," Bobby said.

"Just keep your eyes peeled and don't do anything stupid," (Y/N) said. "We'll get back to you as soon as we find something."

"Thanks guys," Sam said before hanging up.

"Sooo a Siren, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"Who do you think she's gonna look like?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Probably one of those chicks from 'Busty Asian Beauties' you're obsessed with."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Hell yes. Let's go find us a Siren."

**********

(Y/N) and Bobby had been digging through lore books for hours before they managed to find something potentially useful.

"I love a good 3,000 year old text," (Y/N) mumbled in annoyance.

"I'm not even sure what it means," Bobby responded.

"You're supposed to be the expert, Singer," she teased.

He chuckled. "Let me see it again."

He took the book from her and read the passage again...and again...and one more time for effect. "I think I've got it."

Bobby explained his reasoning to her and she agreed. She placed a call to Sam, but he didn't answer. When she called Dean, he picked up almost immediately.

"You got something for me, sweetheart?"

An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her body at the pet name. She was used to him calling her that and other similar names, but it never ceased to have an effect on her. She knew he called all the girls 'sweetheart', so she knew it didn't mean anything...not that she wanted it to...right?

"Bobby and I think we figured out how to kill her."

"Lay it on me."

She cleared her throat. "Uh, you'll need a stake, dipped in the blood of someone actively under her spell...then just stab her."

"Okay, sounds easy enough. We'll just get some blood from one of the poor saps sitting in a jail cell."

"Not quite, Dean," Bobby cut in. "The guy has to be actively under her spell...none of those guys are anymore."

"Damn. Okay, so how do we get it?"

"I have a terrible plan, but it should work," (Y/N) said.

"I'm always down for a terrible plan," Dean responded.

"Find the Siren, one of you gets dosed, the other uses his blood to gank her."

"You want us to get dosed?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Obviously not, but it's a surefire way to get the job done. As long as only one of you gets dosed."

"What happens if we both get it?"

"You'll probably try to kill each other," Bobby answered.

"Great. That's just great," Dean grumbled.

"If you've got a better plan, go for it," (Y/N) said with a shrug.

"We'll make it work. I'll call you when we're finished." Dean hung up without another word.

(Y/N) and Bobby exchanged another glance.

"Carvistly is what, three hours from here?" she asked.

Bobby nodded. "We should probably head that way."

"Agreed."

**********

"Any luck tracking down the Siren?" Dean asked when Sam walked into the motel room.

"Nope. Any word from Bobby or (Y/N)?"

"Got a way to kill her and a...rather terrible plan."

Dean explained (Y/N)'s plan, as well as how to kill the Siren.

"You're right, that's a terrible plan," Sam said when Dean finished.

"Yeah, but it's all we've got."

"Fine...but how do we find her? I mean, I've talked to all the vics and they all described a different chick. We have no idea what she's gonna look like."

"That's true. Guess we'll just have to hang out at the bar and hope she comes to us."

"We're lucky there's only one bar in town," Sam commented.

"Dude, for real."

The two hunters made their way to the bar and got themselves a high top table towards the back of the room, giving them a good vantage point of the rest of the bar.

"Do we even know how she's picking her targets?" Dean asked.

"Well, all of the guys have been married so far, but I'm sure she'll go for just about any guy desperate enough," Sam answered with a pointed look.

"What's the look for? You saying I'm desperate?"

Sam shrugged.

"I'm not desperate."

"Right...when was the last time you got laid?"

Dean scoffed. "All the time, man."

Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean groaned.

"Okay, fine, so it's been a while. That doesn't make me desperate."

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean grumbled as he took a swig of his beer. He was not desperate. Absolutely not. Dean Winchester was never desperate. Maybe he just hadn't been horny lately...a man doesn't need to get laid every day. It had absolutely nothing to do with a certain hunter he couldn't get off his mind. Definitely not.

Sam was scanning the bar, looking for anyone who seemed out of place...but no one was catching his eye. He felt a little bad for teasing his brother, but he just wanted Dean to admit the truth.

"I'm gonna hit the head," Dean mumbled.

He watched Dean walk to the bathroom, several pairs of eyes on him the entire time. Most were women, but none of them stood out as concerning. Just the typical hot bimbos Dean always seemed to take home.

Sam's mind began to wander a bit while he waited for his brother to return. He had a lot on his mind and working this job was, unfortunately, not his priority.

Dean made his way back from the bathroom, jarring Sam out of his trance. "I'm gonna get another beer. Want anything?"

"No thanks, I'm good," Sam replied.

Dean walked off towards the bar and Sam's eyes followed him out of habit. Dean was halfway to the bar when a woman approached him. Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw her. Had Dean not told him (Y/N) had called from Bobby's two hours ago, he would have been certain she was here in the bar.

He watched the woman walk up to Dean and touch his arm, and he was out of his seat and heading their direction in an instant.

"Hey there, handsome," a woman said from beside him, her hand touching his arm.

When Dean turned to face her, shock lit up his handsome face. He knew it wasn't her, but the resemblance was so uncanny, he almost believed it for a moment.

Realizing the woman before him was the Siren, he quickly regained his cool. "Well hello to you too," he said with a smirk.

"How 'bout you buy me a drink?" she said lightly.

Her voice is wrong, he thought to himself. "I'd love to," he said aloud.

He followed her towards the bar, turning to see Sammy following close behind. The expression on Sam's face told him that his little brother knew what was happening.

Dean held back a little, allowing Sam to catch up to him.

"Dude, she--" Sam began.

Dean glared at him. “Not of word of this to (Y/N), Sammy. Not a word.”

Feeling a little more comfortable knowing his backup was there, Dean continued to follow the Siren. When they reached the bar, he ordered a beer and she ordered some fruity cocktail.

"So what's your name, beautiful?" Dean asked.

"Kimberly."

"Hi, Kimberly. I'm Dean." I guess she doesn't know everything...

"It's nice to meet you, Dean."

The bartender handed them their drinks and Dean followed her to a solitary booth in the far corner of the bar. Dean noticed Sam taking a seat not too far away.

The Siren leaned in close and began chatting with Dean, laying on the flirtation very thick. Despite the fact she was literally wearing the face of the one woman Dean really loved, he found it very hard to reciprocate.

Thankfully, the Siren didn't seem to notice. In all honesty, Dean's bad flirting was better than most of the population's good flirting.

A half hour and another round of drinks later, Dean found himself mere inches from the Siren. Her scent was intoxicating, and he wondered for a moment if that was the 'mojo'...except he didn't feel any different. He knew it had to be something else.

"Your lips look so soft," the Siren muttered as she reached up a hand to touch them.

"They are," Dean murmured as he leaned in closer. "Wanna find out?"

She smiled and for a moment--just a moment--Dean forgot that it wasn't her. His eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. He was instantly intoxicated by her...he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed at him, reminding him she was a Siren, but the feeling of desire--of mindless devotion--quickly overcame the voice.

After what felt like an eternity, she broke the kiss. Dean was breathless, but he knew he would have happily suffocated to death kissing her.

"Why don't you take me back to your place?" she asked, voice suddenly sultrier than he remembered it being before.

He wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed, so he agreed without hesitation. Dean took her by the hand and guided her outside, helping her into the Impala, and taking off without a second thought.

Sam came running out of the bar, just in time to see Dean speeding away with the Siren in his passenger seat. "Shit..."

When Dean arrived back at the motel, he escorted "Kimberly" into his room. "Sorry for the mess," he said quickly as he knocked a few books off his bed.

"Don't worry," she said as she came up to him and ran her hands up his chest. "I don't mind a little mess."

Dean looked down at her and let out a soft groan. "God, you are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled knowingly. She had been more than a little surprised when she read his mind at the bar...it was rare to meet a man who's ideal girl wasn't a tall, thin, bombshell, especially a man who looked like him. But she knew what he wanted and she was more than happy to give it to him...until she got what she wanted.

Dean kissed her passionately and pulled her down onto the bed with him. He began to slowly peel off her clothes and she tugged at his shirt. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head.

Suddenly, someone knocked on their door.

Dean groaned. "Ignore it."

She was happy to do so and continued to kiss him.

"Dean!" Sam yelled from the other side of the door.

Dean pulled away for a moment. "Kinda busy here Sammy," he called.

"Open the damn door, Dean! She's not who you think!"

"Don't listen to him," the Siren said. "He wants me all to himself."

Dean's eyes darkened. "But you're mine."

"That's right, sweetie. All yours," she purred. "And I can be yours forever if you just get rid of him."

"Get rid of him?"

"You have to kill him, Dean, or he'll take me away from you."

"That's never gonna happen, baby." Dean stood up and crossed the room.

The moment he opened the door, Sam punched him in the face, sending him spiraling back into the room. The Siren watched with a smile as the two men fought each other.

"Dean, you gotta snap out of it!" Sam yelled.

"You can't have her. I won't let you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kimberly's mine, Sammy," Dean insisted as he swung at his brother.

Sam ducked out of the way and slipped behind him. Dean swung his foot around and managed to knock Sam to the floor.

The Siren stood off to the side, egging Dean on. "Kill him for me, Dean. We can be together if you just kill him."

Dean was on top of Sam, punching him repeatedly. Sam reached into his jacket and managed to grab ahold of the stake. He jabbed Dean in the arm and kneed him in the groin with a mumbled apology.

Dean groaned loudly and Sam pushed him off and onto the floor. When he stood up, the Siren noticed the stake in his hand, but it was too late. Sam was blocking her exit. She turned to run towards the window, but Sam was faster. He stabbed the stake into her back and she fell to the ground with a scream and a thud.

Sam turned back to his brother, who was now kneeling on the floor. "You okay, Dean?"

Dean looked up at him with a glare. "Did you really have to go for the goods, man?"

Sam chuckled lightly. "Sorry about that, but you were being a dick."

"I was hopped up on Siren juice, dude!"

"Well lookie here, guess they don't need our help after all," Bobby said from the open doorway.

(Y/N) came up beside him with a smirk. "Nice work you two. We thought you might need some backup, but looks like we were wrong."

"We can help with the body dump at least," Bobby said.

Bobby and (Y/N) stepped into the room and Dean yelled "no!" in an oddly high pitched voice. (Y/N) did her best not to look in Dean's direction, despite his outburst...his shirtless form made her stomach do somersaults.

"Jesus, Sam, how hard did you hit him?" Bobby asked.

Dean scrambled to get to his feet, but he wasn't fast enough to stop (Y/N) from seeing the Siren. Sam had reached for her, but he saw the look on her face and knew it was too late.

"I don't think that's his problem..." (Y/N) said softly, pointing to the body of the Siren.

Bobby came up beside her and cursed under his breath. He and Sam made eye contact and slowly started to back out of the room.

"Does anyone want to tell me why the Siren looks like my twin?" (Y/N) asked, stopping everyone in their tracks. She turned to fix all three men with a hard stare.

"We're just gonna...umm--go, uh anywhere else," Bobby said. He grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him from the room, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) fixed her intense gaze on Dean. "Well?"

"I--um, well--you see, I...um." He couldn't quite meet her eyes.

(Y/N)'s expression softened. She could see his discomfort matched her own. "Sit," she said gently, gesturing to the bed nearest the door. "And maybe put on a shirt."

Dean sat down, tugging his shirt back over his head. She sat across from him, finally able to look at him without feeling incredibly awkward.

"It just sorta...happened," Dean mumbled.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah--you musta been on my mind when she read it, ya know? So she made herself look like you." He didn't want to tell her the truth...all this time he'd spent pretending he didn't feel this way was going to be thrown out the window in an instant.

"That's not how it works, Dean," she said softly. "Sirens can see your innermost desire...the woman of your dreams."

Dean let out a little groan and bit his lip. He exhaled heavily and finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Guess there's no point in lying then."

She shook her head. "Not really."

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest. It was so loud that he was surprised (Y/N) couldn't hear it. She looked beautiful, sitting there with a confused and concerned expression on her face. For the first time in the years he'd known her, he was struggling to push his feelings back down. Now that the box had been opened, he couldn't put them back.

"She didn't get your voice right," he said softly.

"What?"

"Your voice...it wasn't right. It was missing the softness...the--" he struggled to find the right word, "--the melody."

"You think my voice is melodious?" she asked in surprise.

"I think it's the most beautiful sound in the world."

She laughed, thinking he had to be joking. When his expression didn't change, her laughter came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, you're serious..."

"I changed my mind. Your voice is the second most beautiful sound in the world."

She swallowed thickly. "What's the first?"

Dean smirked as he crossed the short space between them and sat on the bed directly beside her. "Your laugh," he whispered.

Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. His expression was something she'd never seen on his face before, but it sure looked a hell of a lot like lust.

"Dean..."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm clumsily telling you how I feel about you," he answered honestly.

"That you like my laugh and my voice?"

He sighed. "I like them because they're yours."

She wanted to believe it, but she couldn't wrap her brain around the idea that Dean Winchester liked her. It wasn't even remotely possible, so he clearly had to still be under the Siren's spell. There had to be some alternate explanation for why the Siren took on her appearance.

"I guess the Siren's mojo really screwed with your head."

Dean shook his head. "It didn't mess with my head, (Y/N/N). It just made me face something I've felt for a long time."

Her breathing sped up as she stared into his eyes. "And what is it you feel?"

"Affection," he answered. "Adoration...devotion, desire, longing." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her cheek. "Love," he finished softly.

She inhaled sharply, disbelief evident on her face. "You love me?"

"With everything I have."

"Why?"

Surprise lit up his face and he dropped his hand. "Why? What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, why would you love me of all people?"

"I don't really know how to answer that...I just--I just do."

She shook her head and stood up. She began to pace and the words tumbled from her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. "There is absolutely no way that you, Dean Winchester, love me. I mean, look at you! You're literally perfection in human form. Every woman on planet earth with a set of working eyeballs wants you. You could have your pick of any fish in the sea! I've seen the women you go home with, Dean, and they sure as hell don't look like me. I'm not what any man would use to define the 'ideal woman'...I'm short, I'm certainly not thin--I've got hips and thighs and a big ass, not to mention large boobs and a soft stomach. There is nothing special about me. Someone like you isn't meant to be with someone like me."

Dean stood up and grabbed her, pulling her to a stop directly in front of him. "Are you done now?"

She was slightly breathless as she nodded.

"Okay, good. Now listen--I'm not perfect. Not even close. I'm aware that I'm attractive, but inside? Shit, (Y/N), I'm damaged goods. Beyond damaged. Why do you think I only bring home chicks that look like that? Baby, they're easy to entice home and there's zero strings attached. I've kept my feelings buried for so long, it just became easier to pretend they didn't exist. It kept you safe...I didn't want to expose you to the darkness that lives inside me. You deserve so much better than me, (Y/N)."

She stood there in stunned silence--unable to grasp a single word to say.

"And another thing--you're my ideal woman. I don't give a damn what society's beauty standards are. For the record, I love your thick thighs and that gorgeous ass of yours. I love your boobs, and your hips, and your stomach--baby, I love all of you. You're perfect. So don't you dare tell me you're not meant to be with someone like me...because in reality, I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"Dean," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to stamp out the terror that she was about to rip his heart out. He opened his eyes again and saw the whirlwind of emotions in her eyes. "Yes?" he asked tentatively.

"Please kiss me," she murmured.

He didn't need to be told twice. His lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss. He moaned softly, licking against her lips, silently begging to be let in.

She parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry. She sighed as he tightened his grip on her, pulling her flush against his chest.

Dean deepened the kiss, large hands roaming her soft body until they landed on her round ass. He gave it a light squeeze and she responded with a little moan.

Dean broke the kiss to begin trailing down her jaw to her neck. His lips felt like heaven against her skin and she clung to him, head tossed back in pleasure.

He nipped at her pulse point and she moaned softly, eliciting a growl from deep in his chest. He pulled away from her, slightly breathless, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I take it back," he whispered.

"What?"

"I've got a new favorite sound."

She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

He grinned devilishly. "Those pretty little moans you make? Those are my new favorite."

Her eyes widened slightly, but a small smile played at her lips. "I bet if you try hard enough, you can hear a few more."

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Uhhh guys?" Sam suddenly said from the doorway.

They both turned their heads to face him, embarrassment reddening her cheeks.

"Little busy here, Sammy," Dean grumbled.

"I can see that, but umm...dead monster body," he said as he pointed at the Siren's body.

"Gross," Dean mumbled. "I forgot about that."

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. "We should probably take care of that."

He nodded. "We'll pick up where we left off later." He shot her a wink and gave her another kiss before peeling himself off of her.

**********

An hour later, the body had been properly disposed of and everyone was ready to head home.

"You boys wanna come back to my place and rest for a few days?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked over at (Y/N) before turning his attention back to the older man. "Yeah, Bobby, I think we could use the rest." He glanced back over at (Y/N) just in time to see the soft smile on her lips.

Bobby nodded. "Sam, why don't you ride with me?"

Sam looked confused for a moment, but realization quickly lit up his face. "Oh, yeah--right. Sure. I'll uh, see you guys later, then."

"Mhm," Dean hummed, clearly not really listening anymore.

Bobby and Sam got into Bobby's car and drove off, leaving Dean and (Y/N) alone.

"So, uh...whatcha say we stop at the nearest motel on the way?" Dean asked with a sheepish grin.

She smiled. "I think I could be persuaded."

He grinned fully, reaching out to grab ahold of her and pull her into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to take her right then and there, but he wanted better for her. Her kiss lit a fire inside of him that burned more brightly than he had ever felt before. He wanted her with a kind of desperation he had never known was possible.

"Why don't we skip the motel," she whispered against his lips.

"Huh?"

She glanced at the Impala. "The backseat is pretty spacious."

He chuckled. "It's plenty big enough, but I don't want our first time together to be in the back of a car. I wanna make love to you properly--on a bed."

She smiled, practically melting against him. "Then you better drive fast, because I don't know how long I can wait."

His eyes widened. "Yes ma'am."

She laughed lightly as he opened up the car door for her and she slid into the passenger seat. Dean ran to the other side of the car and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and he sped off toward the highway.

**********

"Oh thank God," Dean mumbled about 20 minutes into the drive. "There's a motel 10 miles up."

(Y/N) laughed warmly. "Step on it, handsome."

He grinned and laid his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. Less than 5 minutes later, Dean was pulling into the motel parking lot.

"I'll go get us a room. Should be quick," he said as he hopped out of the car.

A few minutes later, Dean returned with a room key in hand. He opened the car door and held out his hand for her to take.

"Come on, gorgeous. We've got important things to do," he said with a smile.

"Lead the way."

Dean had to consciously force himself to walk at a reasonable pace to the room. (Y/N)'s legs were a lot shorter than his and if he'd walked as fast as he wanted to, he would've been dragging her along.

As soon as they were in the room, Dean shut and locked the door.

(Y/N) glanced around. "Looks clean enou--"

Dean silenced the rest of her sentence with a well-timed heated kiss. He'd whipped her around and pressed her up against the door, hands gripping her hips as he kissed her passionately.

She gripped the edges of his shirt and tugged upwards, silently asking him to remove it. He pulled back, yanking the shirt off his head, before attaching his lips back to hers.

He slid his hands under her shirt and her body tensed up on instinct. She'd always hated people touching her stomach, but she did her best to push away her discomfort.

Despite her best efforts, Dean could feel her unease. "Baby, look at me," he whispered.

Her eyes met his and she visibly relaxed.

"I've got you, okay? I love you, I love your body, and I wanna touch and see every inch of it...but if you're not ready, I can wait."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his sweet words. Normally, she would have taken him up on his offer, but not now. She wanted this...wanted him...and that meant giving in completely.

She pushed him back ever so slightly, giving her enough space to unbutton her shirt and slip it off. It fell to the ground, leaving her upper half in just a bra.

She was self-conscious for no more than a moment. Dean's hungry eyes traced their way down her torso and back up, desire evident in his gaze.

He pressed his body up against hers again, a soft moan escaping his lips. "So fucking perfect," he whispered.

He slid his hands up her back and deftly unhooked her bra. She let him pull it off and toss it somewhere behind him. He groaned as he palmed each of her breasts in his large hands. He began to kneed them gently, pinching her nipples as she gasped.

Suddenly, his hands left her breasts and traveled to her thighs. "Jump," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

He gripped her thighs tightly. "Jump, baby. I've got you."

She looked at him like he was crazy, but she trusted him completely. She jumped up and Dean caught her with ease, tugging her legs around his waist. She locked her heels behind him and he pressed her back against the door.

Her breasts were now at the perfect height for his mouth to feast on...and feast on them he did. He sucked and nipped, his light stubble scratching against her skin deliciously.

His arms wrapped around her back and he lifted his head to look at her. "Keep those legs tight, okay?"

As soon as she nodded, he pulled away from the door and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, but instead of crawling on top of her, he stood at the end of the bed.

She sat up slightly. "Dean?"

He licked his lips and looked back up at her face. "Hmm?"

She crooked her finger, gesturing him to come to her.

Instead of climbing onto the bed, he leaned down and placed a kiss to her belly, just above her pants. "These should go," he murmured.

He made quick work of removing her jeans, his calloused hands gliding back up her legs to the hem of her underwear.

"I don't think you need these either." He tugged them off and threw them onto the ground.

She laid before him, completely bare, and she didn't feel self-conscious at all. She couldn't--not with the way he was looking at her.

His breathing was slightly labored as he stared at her. He palmed his painfully hard cock through his jeans, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

She sat up and licked her lips. "I can help you with that."

His eyes widened, pupils dilated to the point of obscuring his green irises. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and slid off the end of the bed, dropping to her knees before him. She looked up at him and slowly began to undo his belt.

"Holy fuck..." he murmured. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she undid the button on his jeans and slowly began to pull them down.

He helped her take them off completely before she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs. "These are in my way," she said huskily.

He yanked his underwear off with such speed, if she'd blinked she would have missed it. What she couldn't miss, however, was his surprisingly large member mere inches from her face.

Dean noticed her wide eyes and he grinned. "Like what you see, baby?"

Her lust-filled eyes flicked up to his. "I like every inch of you."

He wasn't sure if she was talking about his body or his cock, but he didn't have time to think about it. She gripped him tightly and slid her mouth onto his cock, eliciting a loud moan from him.

She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she began to move her head and her hands in an expert rhythm. He could barely breathe as he stared down at her...pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock and her big (y/e/c) eyes looking up at him.

He slid his fingers into her hair, pulling it back from her face so he could see it better. The blunt tips of his nails raked against her scalp as he tightened his grip, a moan of ecstasy escaping his lips.

"Fuck, baby...feels so good."

She moaned around his cock, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through him. His hips jilted forward slightly, causing her to gag a little. He instantly pulled back, not wanting to hurt her.

In response, she grabbed onto his upper thighs with both hands and tugged his hips forward, relaxing her throat as she did to take him even farther into her.

Her watery eyes met his in a silent plea. Dean was pretty sure he knew what she wanted, so he tentatively pulled back and thrust his hips forward gently.

Her eyes seemed to light up and she moaned loudly, giving him the confirmation he needed. He gripped her head with both of his hands and he began to fuck her pretty face.

(Y/N) tightened her grip on his thighs and desperately tried to keep her eyes open and on his face. She wanted to see him come undone more than anything. At this moment, she was just along for the ride.

Dean's grip on her hair tightened to an almost painful level, but she didn't complain. The moans and whispered pleas coming from his mouth were reward enough.

"Baby, I'm so close..." he groaned.

She released a deep moan and his eyes flicked down to meet hers. The moment his gaze found hers, he came with a moan of her name. (Y/N) didn't let go of his cock until she'd swallowed every last drop of his spend before finally releasing him.

He nearly collapsed on the bed, but through the fog in his brain, he remembered (Y/N) would have needs of her own.

"Come here, baby," he said softly as he reached for her. "Lie on the bed."

She stood up with his help and laid down on the bed, feet hanging over the edge. When Dean didn't move to join her, she began to shift uncomfortably.

"You're too far away," he insisted.

She immediately started to move closer to him, but he shook his head, grabbed her hips, and tugged her to the edge of the bed where he wanted her.

She gasped in surprise. "Dean!"

He grinned as he dropped to his knees. "What? I wanna taste you."

She looked a little shy. "You don't have to."

He looked at her in confusion. "I know I don't have to...I want to."

"Oh..."

"Baby, if you taste half as delicious as you look, then I'm going to be the happiest man in the world."

"Oh," she whispered in a slightly more surprised tone.

Dean grabbed her legs and threw one over each shoulder before diving into her pussy like a starving man at a feast.

"Oh!" What started out as a pleasantly surprised sound quickly turned to moans of enjoyment.

She'd known he would be good...after all, he had a lot of practice, but she hadn't expected to feel like this. Dean's mouth had been on her pussy for less than 30 seconds and she was already a gasping mess.

Her hand fisted his hair, tugging on it slightly, legs desperately searching for something to hold onto.

Dean was an incredibly fast learner. He paid attention to what made her moan, what made her grip his hair harder, what made her squirm...he was determined to be the absolute best she'd ever had.

"Dean," she gasped. "You--it--shit...feels so good."

He grinned against her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking intently. His tongue began to swirl around her clit, spelling out her name in fast-moving cursive.

"Oh god!"

Her legs began to tighten around his head and he had a vague thought about wanting to be smothered by her thighs...but the thought was pushed aside when she cried out, cumming all over his mouth and chin.

He hungrily lapped up as much as he could before she yanked on his hair and desperately tried to squirm away. "Sensitive, Dean!"

He finally allowed her to pull his head up and he stared at her pretty face as he licked his lips. "Infinitely better than I'd imagined," he murmured.

"Huh?" she asked, clearly still dazed from her orgasm.

He smiled as he crawled on top of her, placing a kiss to her lips. "You taste like heaven," he whispered.

She blushed, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for another kiss.

He'd found himself growing hard again while he was eating her out, and as he deepened the kiss, his cock brushed against her pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

He smiled against her lips. "(Y/N)?"

"Hmm?"

"If I told you I wanted to do something really really badly, would you be willing to do it for me?"

She cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "That would depend on what it is."

"Fair enough."

Suddenly, he flipped onto his back, taking her with him. She gasped as she found herself looking down at him from above. "You could have just asked," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh that?" He smirked darkly. "That's not what I want..."

Her breathing began to pick up pace again. "Then what do you want?"

He grinned wolfishly. "I wanna taste that sweet pussy again."

Her eyes widened. No one had ever eaten her out twice during sex. "But you just did..."

He nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers gently rubbing circles into her thighs. "Please baby? I would do anything."

She bit her lip. She couldn't deny, the idea of him wanting to eat her out again was an incredible turn-on...but she was still sensitive from a few minutes prior.

"Please," he begged again, green eyes widening.

She sighed, realizing there was no way she could say no to him when he was looking at her like that. "Alright."

He grinned. "That's my good girl. Now come up here."

Her pussy clenched around nothing at the praise, but then confusion settled on her face. "Come up...where?"

"Here," he said, patting his mouth. "I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What? No! Absolutely not. No way." She tried to scramble off of him, but his strong arms held her in place.

"Why not?" he pouted.

"Umm because I could seriously hurt you! Or I don't know, smother you to death!"

He laughed lightly. "I would die a very happy man."

"I'm serious, Dean! I'm not light!"

The smile disappeared from his face as he took in the shock and disbelief on hers. He sat up and ran his hand along her cheek. "Hey, baby, look at me."

Her eyes slowly shifted to meet his.

"(Y/N), I want this. Badly. Now, I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do, but I don't want you to say no out of some misguided desire to protect me. I'm more than capable of picking you up and tossing you around, so I promise you're not going to smother me or hurt me. I wanna feel those sexy thighs of yours wrapped around my head as I devour that sweet pussy."

His eyes darkened as he spoke and it lit something inside of her. She was scared of hurting him, but she could see how much he wanted this. "I'll--I'll try," she whispered.

He smiled. "That's my girl." He laid back down on the bed. "Now come here and have a seat, gorgeous."

She blushed, but did as he told her--mostly.

"Babe, I said sit."

"I am sitting," she protested.

"No, you're not." He grabbed her hips and tugged her down so she was directly against his lips. "Fuck yes," he mumbled into her before getting to work.

(Y/N) gasped loudly. This new position changed the angle of his tongue inside of her and his nose bumped against her clit every time he moved.

Within seconds, she was a moaning mess above him, hands grasping onto the headboard for stability. Her hips started to move of their own volition and Dean gripped her hips to help facilitate the movement.

She didn't know she could feel this incredible...her body was shaking with a pleasure she'd never felt before--every nerve ending alive with need.

"Dean, I can't--I need--please."

He tightened his hold on her hips and focused his tongue on her clit as she rode his face. Seconds later, she yelled his name as she orgasmed, drenching his face in her slick.

God help him, but he didn't want to stop. He'd never been happier. The sounds she made, her taste, the need to pleasure her...all of it made him want to never stop.

Unfortunately for him, (Y/N) managed to scramble away with cries of sensitivity. She collapsed on the bed beside him, trying to catch her breath. Her legs shook with the aftershocks of her orgasm as she came down from her high.

Dean wiped his mouth and turned to look at her, a wide grin gracing his handsome face. "Thoughts?"

"You can...do that...again...anytime you want," she said between breaths.

He chuckled. "Oh, baby, don't tempt me." He rolled on top of her and gave her a soft kiss to her lips. He slowly kissed along her jaw and down to her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

She had no idea how he knew that would drive her crazy, but she was glad he did. Despite her exhaustion, she wanted him...wanted to feel him so badly she could hardly breathe. "Dean..." she whispered.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I want you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Where?"

She fidgeted a little before murmuring, "Inside me."

He pressed his index finger against her lips. "Here?"

She shook her head.

"Then where, baby?"

She took his hand and guided it between her legs, placing it against her dripping pussy. "Here."

His eyes seem to sparkle as he looked down at her. He wanted to hear her demand what she wanted, but this was close enough for now.

"Anything for you, baby."

He sat up and gripped his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining himself up with her core. His eyes flicked up to hers and he asked softly, "You ready?"

She nodded.

"Words, baby."

"I'm ready, Dean, please."

He pushed into her slowly, eliciting a sharp moan from her lips. The stretch was deliciously painful, but she was desperate for him to keep going. She whined softly when he stopped to let her adjust, so he continued to push until he was fully seated inside of her.

He dropped his head down to her forehead, breathing heavily. He'd never been gripped this tightly in his life and it felt amazing.

(Y/N) had similar thoughts. He fit her perfectly...a feeling she'd never before experienced. Like the last two pieces of a puzzle locking into place.

Dean shifted his hips, starting a slow pace to keep from hurting her. Much to his surprise, she couldn't care less about the pain, she wanted more.

"Dean, faster," she whimpered.

He couldn't tell her no even if he'd wanted to, and he certainly didn't want to. He began to thrust into her with more force and speed, earning moans of pleasure from her lips.

"You feel so good, baby. Never felt this good before," he whispered softly.

The room filled with the sounds of their shared moans, the salacious slapping of skin, and the whispered words meant only for each other.

Dean was about as far from a virgin as a person could be, and (Y/N) wasn't new to this either, but he had never ever had a sexual experience even remotely close to what he was feeling with her.

Most of his experience came from one-night-stands, which meant there hadn't been feelings of any kind involved, but with (Y/N)? He could hardly breathe, it felt so right. Three words crept into his mind, but he pushed them away quickly. He didn't want to ruin this.

He focused back on the beautiful woman beneath him and his heart nearly exploded at the sight. He'd never seen anything so incredible, so beautiful, so perfect. He was dying to watch her come apart for him--he just knew it would be a sight to behold.

"Do you think you can give me another one, baby?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't know, Dean...I've never cum more than once before and I've already done it twice."

He smiled. He liked knowing he'd done something no one else ever had. "Come on, pretty girl. I know you can do it for me," he murmured.

Before she could say another word, he shifted her hips to give him better access. The new angle left her speechless as his cock slammed into that delicious soft spot deep inside of her--a spot she hadn't been certain existed until this moment.

She dug her nails into his back, clinging to him for dear life. It felt so good she could hardly think. Her brain was filled with nothing but the pleasure she was feeling.

Dean knew she was getting close and he was desperately holding back his own impending orgasm. He would be damned if he came before her. "I need you to cum for me baby. Can you do that?"

She nodded and held onto him even tighter.

Dean's motions never slowed, his aim never faltered. He was determined to push her over the edge. He wanted it more than anything.

Her legs began to shake and strangled cries left her throat as she neared orgasm. With one final thrust, (Y/N) shattered--a broken scream of his name leaving her lips.

Dean continued to thrust, chasing his own high as he helped her ride out hers. "Where do you want it?" he whispered.

In her haze, it took her a moment to figure out what he was asking her. "Inside of me," she begged. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Fuck," he groaned as he moved impossibly faster. Moments later, he came harder than he could ever remember, emptying inside of her for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, his hips slowed to a stop and he nearly collapsed on top of her, completely spent and out of breath.

After a few moments, Dean pulled out and rolled over to collapse beside her on the bed. "That was...fucking amazing."

She laughed lightly. "I would have to agree."

He turned to look at her. "Best sex of my life."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, riiiiight..." She chalked up his statement to a post-nut haze.

"I'm serious, babe. There's something different about having sex with someone you love."

(Y/N)'s entire body froze, but her mind beginning to race. He'd said earlier that he'd loved her, but she honestly hadn't believed it. Hearing him say it now reminded her that she hadn't responded to him the first time.

Dean noticed the tension immediately and suddenly realized what he'd said. He started to panic...Shit, shit shit. "(Y/N/N), I--"

She waved him off. "Dean, you don't have to explain--" she started.

He pulled away from her so he could see her face better. "That wasn't some post-orgasm utterance. I meant it--I mean it."

She laid there, desperately trying to wrap her brain around what he was saying. "What?" she said again, softer this time.

He rolled onto his side so he could see her better. He reached out and gently caressed her face, eyes watching her reaction with trepidation. "I'm in love with you, (Y/N). I've known it for a while, but it didn't seem like something you would want to hear. I said it earlier in that motel room, but we didn't really have a chance to talk about it--and I don't want you to think for even one second that I didn't mean it. I love you with everything I have, baby. I would burn this whole world to the ground for you."

Hearing Dean Winchester say those words was enough to shock her into silence, but hearing them directed at her? It was a feeling she couldn't even begin to describe. "I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Pain flashed across his face, but he hid it before she could really notice. "You don't have to say anything."

"Of course I do," she insisted. "I never expected to hear you say anything like that to anyone, let alone me. I'm struggling to find the words to say...I guess I'm just unprepared. I never thought Dean Winchester would be the one making me speechless with his beautiful words, but here we are. All I can think to say is, I love you too."

A warm smile graced his features. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect response." He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you," he said again.

She smiled back. "I love you too."

Dean pulled her against his chest and held on tightly. He didn't want to let her go for fear of losing her. He knew their lives were risky--he knew either one of them could die at any time--and he didn't want to waste a single moment. He'd already wasted so much time pretending not to love her. He would never make that mistake again.

Apparently (Y/N) was having similar thoughts because she whispered, "I never thought I'd be thankful for a Siren."

Dean chuckled lightly and kissed the top of her head. "Me neither, baby. Me neither."

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #92: Percy/Apollo, but make it The Trojan War

Into every fandom, a time travel fic must fall - or in this case a second one, because I somehow got to thinking about the delightful PJO trope of Percy being thrown back in time to The Trojan War and realized that doing so misses out on a fantastic opportunity.

Or: What if post-TOA Percy Jackson and Apollo time travel to shortly before The Trojan War?

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon through TOA, with one exception: rather than struggle to catch up in the mortal world following the Second Gigantomachy, Percy elects to stay at Camp Half-Blood. There he can homeschool at his own place with programs tailored towards ADHD children and still visit his family on the weekends - and not get into any more ridiculous situations in the mortal world when one of the gods kidnaps him or sends him on a quest to find their sneakers.

This, naturally, stresses his relationship with Annabeth - who, now that she's no longer living at camp full time, calls it the easy way out. But Percy is tired and struggling in mortal high school where everyone thinks he's a delinquent idiot when another option exists seems foolish. Percy and Annabeth break up and drift apart.

Enter Apollo, fresh from his latest stint as a mortal. He's trying to do his best by his children, which includes popping by camp as often as he can get away with - which in turn means spending a lot of time with Percy, who at this point is unofficially running CHB because it's not like Dionysus or even Chiron have done a brilliant job of it in recent times.

(First aid, strategy, and mythology classes are made mandatory. Percy personally ensures every demigod knows enough about self-defense to be able to survive long enough to run away or for help to arrive. Bullying is cracked down on so hard that it's this, not Percy's generally parental nature, that has people calling him Camp Mom.)

Percy and Apollo become friendly. Enough so that some of Apollo's kids assume they're dating and keeping it on the down-low so as not to draw Zeus' ire. Or Poseidon's. Or anyone else's. It's on one of their not-dates that they're yeeted into the past, without warning or explanation.

And so 19-year-old Percy Jackson and post-TOA Apollo find themselves in Ancient Greece c. 1220 BCE, roughly thirty-five years before the destruction of Troy.

The time travel is immediately obvious, as Apollo becomes the closest thing a god might experience to being high the moment they land in the past - being a powerful god in modern times is nothing like being a powerful god at the height of his power in ancient times. It's overwhelming (and somewhat alarming from Percy's POV, but kind of funny in retrospect.)

The specific date is harder to determine, but made clear when Hermes shows up and starts going on about you'll never believe what father's done now: he seduced the Spartan queen as a swan and she's laid an egg. Hera is furious - especially as they're saying the girl that hatched from it is the most beautiful in the world, even though she's only a few days old. It's nuts. By the way, where have you been? You missed the last two council meetings. Do you want Dad to punish you?

Apollo at this stage is very high. He's also been USTing over Percy for quite some time and is worried what the gods of this era might do to Percy without divine protection (smiting or seduction, it's all on the table). But mostly he's very high, and so to keep Percy close and safe he declares he's been off having the dirtiest of dirty weekends with his latest lover and that Hermes' presence is ruining the mood. So if he would kindly leave, please and thank you, he'd really rather get back to it without an audience.

This, naturally, is a surprise to Percy, but he rolls with it because 1) he doesn't have any better ideas on how to get rid of Ancient Greek Hermes so they can figure out what the hades is going on and 2) he's been USTing over Apollo ever since he recovered enough from Tartarus to start feeling attraction again.

Fueled by mutual UST, they put together a cover story that should hold the next time a god with too much prurient interest shows: Percy is now Prince Persē of Gadir - a Phoenician colony that will grow into the future Cadiz - well past the edge of the Greek world at this stage but not beyond belief for Poseidon to have visited, as it's obvious who his father is. They claim his mother is the King of Gadir's youngest sister and as such Persē had a royal upbringing, but was far enough down the line of succession that he was free to chose to sail east and explore his father's homeland. Apollo caught sight of him on his journey, one thing led to another, and here they are.

(Are there easier, more sensible cover stories? Possibly. But the UST refuses to let them consider any of them now that a fake relationship is on the table.)

Deciding what to do about The Trojan War is much harder. On the one hand, it's a lot of senseless death and destruction. On the other, without it we don't get The Iliad and The Odyssey - two of the most influential works of literature in western civilization - and Aeneas doesn't go off to Italy (leading to the founding of Rome, which would change the history of western civilization a lot). In the end, they decide to let the war happen but do their best to mitigate the worst parts of it.

And so Percy goes off and becomes a hero of Ancient Greece while pretending to be in a relationship with Apollo.

This stage of things is filed with angst from both parties, as both Percy and Apollo want a real relationship with each other but think they're abusing the other's trust by eagerly faking their relationship. There's a lot of PDA, a lot of feelings, and limited communication. It goes on for quite a while and would probably exasperate quite a few people if everyone in the know didn't think they were already in a relationship.

It's also filled with modern day Percy being confronted by realties of life in Ancient Greece. It's not just mortals knowing about - and interacting with - the gods: it's everything. It's food and clothes and language and culture and housing and travel. He can play a lot off it as being a traveler from the edge of the known world, but some of it has him asking Apollo if he's being rick rolled.

Apollo, meanwhile, is having troubles of his own. He is not the god he used to be and it's hard pretending otherwise. He tries to walk the line of doing enough to be believable and holding back enough not to despise himself, but it's a fine line, he fails often, and he spends a not insignificant amount of time worried he's backsliding.

And so it goes until 7-year-old Helen of Troy is kidnapped by Theseus to be his wife.

This, naturally, does not fly with Percy, who by this time has built up something of a reputation as a hero. He teams up with the Dioscuri to rescue Helen.

One would think this would earn him Zeus' favor. It doesn't. Instead, Zeus sends monsters to harry him for refusing to let Castor and Pollux take Helen's captors' loved ones captive and raze Aphidna for Theseus' crime. Percy manages to hold his own for quite a while but eventually, exhausted from the near-constant fighting, is gored and left for dead by the reformed Minotaur.

...and when Apollo arrives, frantic, to heal him, Percy ascends instead, becoming the greek version of Saint Sebastian - a minor god of heroes, strength in the face of adversity, and athleticism; sort of halfway between Hercules and Chiron.

Then and only then do Percy and Apollo finally get their act together, confessing to each other how much they care for the other and how much they don't want this to be fake any longer.

History proceeds apace - albeit with Persē being a second immortal trainer of heroes.

24 years after their arrival in the past, 16 years after Percy's ascension, The Trojan War begins. Despite their best efforts, there's only so much they can do - war is war and gods are gods. They are able to stop some of the worst excesses on both sides, but in the end Apollo still sends the plague that causes Agamemnon to take Briseis for his own, which caused Achilles' departure from the field, Patroclus' death, &c - not because Apollo was trying to maintain the timeline, but because in the instant he sent it he was angry and reverted to his old ways.

Troy falls...

...but when Zeus tries to use this as an excuse to ban gods from interacting with their demigod children, Apollo is able to say that's a bit extreme isn't it? with enough backing from the rest of the council that Zeus is forced to amend his ruling so that the gods are only allowed to freely visit their children on the "cross quarter days" that fall between each solstice and equinox (1 February, 1 May, 1 August, and 1 November).

This changes everything and nothing.

Time continues its inevitable march. Greece has its golden age before being conquered by Rome, which splits apart under its own weight and forms several smaller countries, which eventually spread their cultures around the world...

Apollo and Percy are there for it all. Persē is a minor figure in mythology, but never forgotten. He is ever-present in Apollo's temples - though the Church will later try to rewrite their myth so that they were merely sworn fighting partners, rather than lovers who eventually had a quite lovely wedding on Olympus (and then, at Poseidon's insistence, an even bigger ceremony on Atlantis). Percy takes over day-to-day operations of CHB from practically the moment the Trojan War ends.

...and so Persē is there the day Sally Jackson tries to get her son to camp, and is able to intervene when the Minotaur attacks on their border. He's able to meet her and her young son, Perseus ("Mom named me after you and the guy that killed Medusa since you're the only two heroes to have happy endings!"), and guide him through the trials that come with being a child of prophecy.

One day that Percy will hand Luke - who was never happy with the limited attention the gods were allowed to give their children - a cursed dagger so that Kronos can be defeated. That child will be offered godhood, turn it down, and go on to have a happy life with his eventual wife, Annabeth. He will never have his memories erased and be sent to Camp Jupiter. Gaia will not rise until long after that Percy's grandchildren are dead, and Zeus will not be quite so bullheaded when the proof of it is brought before him. That Second Gigantomachy is swift, well-coordinated, and fought without another Greek/Roman war brewing in the background.

And when they finally arrive at the day Apollo and Percy were originally sent back in time, Percy admits that while he is happy some version of him was better prepared for the war he was asked to fight in and allowed his peace afterward, he would change nothing about his own life, for it brought him to Apollo. The sunrise the next morning - on the first morning of the rest of their lives - is particularly spectacular.

Bonuses include:

Gaslighting Poseidon into believing that he's met Percy before the first time they're introduced. ("What do you mean you don't remember me, Father? You were present when I came of age! You gifted me this trident! Have I displeased you in some way?") It's an absolute masterclass that eventually manages to convince Poseidon that, yes, of course he knows Percy - and, maybe, he should check in on all his other demigod children to make sure he's not missed someone. (Two. He lost track of two of the others. Maybe he should be more careful about siring children in the future.) Apollo practically has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

As much historical accuracy as can be crammed into the Percy trying to make sense of Ancient Greece chapters as possible. Think Of a Linear Circle - Part III by flamethrower levels of historical research. As much as can be shoehorned in without bogging down the plot.

Percy and Dionysus bonding over their mutual dislike of Theseus, though Percy generally gets along with his other half-siblings, especially the ones who come to camp young enough to keep from getting big heads over being the children of Poseidon.

Though Percy adores all the children in Cabin 7 (most of whom are born via blessing this time around), he and Apollo have at least one child of their own - maybe a demigod born before Percy's ascension to sell their fake relationship? Maybe a minor god who's later attributed a different parentage by mortals? Dealer's choice on details.

It never being made clear who, or what, or how, Percy and Apollo were sent into the past. All of Percy's oddities are attributed to him being foreign or formerly mortal, all of Apollo's to the fact that he's in love with someone who didn't die before their first anniversary, and no one ever guesses time travel is responsible for their eccentricities. Or that time travel was ever an option.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever decide to do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[kiame-sama]

Would Papa Hades mind if I rant to him my frustration over how people always make him a ‘Bad Guy’ in our world?

Whenever Movies that have Greek Mythology in it, it always pissed me off when they make Hades the Villain (I feel like it’s just because Hades is the God of the Underworld that automatically makes him ‘Evil’)

Literally out of ALL the Greek Gods, Hades is actually the NICEST of the Gods (He was willing to let a mortal man take his wife out of the Underworld but he must not look at her because she’ll be sent back during the journey until they leave his realm) and was never unfaithful to his beloved Persephone

There was a myth that he had ONE lover, but that was BEFORE he met his Beloved

Would Papa Hades appreciate that I don’t see him as evil just because he rules over the Underworld? (Because since he’s one of the Great Seven so he’ll naturally be feared for his powers and authority)

Warnings: Papa Hades in his 50ft form, comforting ancient Shinigami, daily allotted sunshine/shade garden time,

For reference, this is approximately the current height difference:

~~~~~~~~

"-but I mean, why do they always have to make Hades out to be bad? I don't think my Hades is bad and I don't think you're bad either. You're probably the only one I've met in this world who didn't immediately try to make decisions for me. You haven't collared me, or taken me away from where I want to be, or tried to control me in any way. You're even letting me sit on your shoulder and talk your ear off in the garden because I wanted some time away from it all!"

The giant Shinigami was leaning his cheek on his hand, listening attentively to your every word. You both were seated upon a shadowy throne he had summoned in the stone and briar garden of Ramshackle. It was a good distance away from the building itself and no one was willing to tell the Shinigami he couldn't protect you.

Deep in the shadows, watchful eyes thought better of challenging a being of myth and power. Some were dissuaded from the prospect altogether, seeing such an ancient being so casually attending the soft Human prize. Not all who hunted sought harm, but even the insane knew better. Smaller predators will almost always give space to a bigger predator. No need to die this day.

The giant Shinigami was enjoying the history lessons from your world, curious that your own history had beings so similar to him that even shared his name. He also appreciated the fact you were so passionately defending his doppelganger in your world. Truthfully, the similarities between him and the Hades of your world was not lost on him. Perhaps the Humans of your world were originally from Twisted Wonderland and simply forgot over time after crossing to a different realm. If that were the case then he had much to consider.

Still, he appreciates how relaxed you are around him, now trusting in his willingness to act in your best interest. He had always afforded all of the Humans under his protection the ability to choose. The only difference now was he had to keep a closer eye on you than he did the Humans leaving his isle.

"I'm glad to be living up to your expectations, Little One. So long as it is your wish to stay here, I will aid you however I can. Young Idia has updated your phone to contact me directly should you ever have need. I must say, it is nice to hear of your home, you speak so little about it. I'm sure you have your reasons, so I won't pry. I'm thankful you trust me enough to share all of this with."

"Well, it's hard not to trust you. You've kind of been amazing."

It soothed the wounded depths of the old Shinigami's heart to hear such earnest words. You truly did trust him and he treasured that more than you would likely ever know. The mourning shawl had adorned him many long centuries. Those centuries were some of the most painful for him, yet that pain was lessened and balmed by your simple trust and affection. He treasured that.

[sophia-hunter-of-artemis]

Open starter

(Tw sh? Im not sure if it counts but just in case)

For whatever reason, you wanted to go to the Selene cabin. How come Amaia was there? Didn't she usually stay in the Artemis cabin these days?

The first thing you heard was the sound. It wasn't the most pleasant, but not as bad as nails on a chalkboard. She was holding some kind of file and trying to file her horns down.

@arisdaughter @mache-of-greece @kaiaalwayswins @unhinged-as-hell @yourlocalfallenstar @son-of-the-moonlight @luci-likes-dinoss @elixs-mythology-corner @bast-the-best26 @emdabitchass @if-chaos-was-a-boy-deactivated2 @luck-is-crucial @love-lightning-forethought @the-prince-telemachus @pink-koi-lovejoy @apollos-favorite-child @ariathemortal @cass-sees-the-future @reyna4ever @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @of-course-im-the-winner @superbstarlightsheep

[iz-star]

About Zayne's loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder what an angry Zayne looks like? I mean, NOT angry at MC/you but maybe angry at Astra and/or his fate for putting him in such difficult and unfair situations.

Zayne loves MC deeply, with his whole being, but loving her makes him be 'selfish', to want something for himself, to seek his own happiness alongside MC when it seems that his fate was always to serve others before looking after himself.

It's like he himself said in Master of Fate's Myth: "When emotions and desires are involved, selfishness is bound to exist".

In Master of Fate, he's deemed as a Siming which in Chinese mythology, is a kind of deity in charge to allocate humans' life spans, and according to Wikipedia:

"Siming's special concern (and power) is the balancing of yin and yang (Hawkes 2011 (1985), 109). Of particular relevance here is the relation between yin and yang balance and human health, and the importance to individual human health of such balance, as articulated in traditional Chinese medicine. Siming has the power to balance or unbalance yin and yang, and thus to lengthen or shorten human lifespans, or to provide health or prolong illness".

Siming could decide to provide health to a person or to prolong illness, in that way, having an important role into deciding people's life spans. It's interesting cause Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker pretty much do the same.

Dr Zayne does his best to cure and take care of people, thus stretching out their life span, while Dawnbreaker gives them a merciful death to avoid them to live as walking corpses, thus shortening their life span.

Unlike Master of Fate or Foreseer, at first glance it could look like Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker have no God-like power, thus have no control over destiny or fate, yet they still do.

It's actually Foreseer the one who lacks some kind of jurisdiction about people's lifes and fates; he could still glimpse at their destiny, being aware of what awaits people but wasn't allowed to intervene in any sense and most of all, he wasn't allowed to glimpse at his own fate.

In any case, until now, all Zayne's lifes have always been about taking care of other's destiny but what about him? When describing gods, Zayne is actually quite humble, saying that gods maybe are just like humans, except that they had the chance to do a bit more.

Zayne is quite selfless. He's not the kind of man who would blame his destiny for all the things that have happened to him and yet... They're still unfair.

Foreseer once said: "My destiny is to disappear from the annals of history... For someone who wants to remember me, it certainly feels wonderful".

At some point, Zayne's duty isolated him in every life time. He lived alone and caged in a Tower in Foreseer's Myth, he lived alone in the Mountains as Master of Fate, and he lived totally alone as Dawnbreaker. His only companions were Jas/Bai but no other human being.

Dr Zayne is actually the only one whose duty has brought him some kind of recognition, admiration and appreciation (and well deserved, of course), and hasn't isolated him from society, but funnily enough, he has this condition with his evol that sometimes turns him into a treath, which makes him keep others at arms length, especially MC. As for Master of Fate? Foreseer? Dawnbreaker? They all have to move the threads behind backstage in a lonely duty, being Foreseer the most severe case. It doesn't help that in the Foreseer timeline, Zayne is even explictly prohibited to be with MC.

Zayne's fate was always to look after other people's fate but like I've said before, MC was always the exception of every rule in his book because she was the one who made him yearn for human warmth and closeness with someone else and because of that, he'd break the rules to ensure she lives a long happy and safe life, even if is not at his side... Unironically.

In Foreseer's Myth, it is said that Astra prohibited him of being with MC in this and his other lifes because Zayne was a tool. At first, Astra's severity at punishing Zayne looked more like a senseless tantrum of a prepotent god and while that might be true, it seems that Zayne not being able to be with MC in every life time is simply because she would never allow him to fullfil 'his destiny' and to make matters worse, she's a "variant" (We don't know exactly what this entails, we just know that is something threatening, I have some assumptions about it but let's keep it like this for now) . That's why, unlike Rafayel and the other LIs, it seems that he doesn't keep memories of his previous lifes or previous experiences with MC, yet he said once that if souls truly existed, then he was sure that his soul recognized MC before his memory did. MC is this person that always reminds him that he's not just a "tool", a means to an end, but an individual being that is also deserving of something better.

Zayne's love for MC often reminds me of that Córtazar quote: "You were always my mirror, what I'm trying to say is that, in order to see me, I had to see you"

I wonder if there's one life time where Zayne will be allowed to have happiness and company without having to pay a high price for it.