#demeter!reader

Y'all gonna hate me for it but I am saying my piece

Note: I tried my best to try making it a story but quite literally kept getting writers block every time but this is what I have I hope you enjoy (and if not then I understand 😅)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Demeter!Reader who is known on sphere as the Lady of the Harvest because of her ability to control plant life with aid from her sickle

Demeter!Reader who when finding out what happened to her daughter goes does to the sphere to mourn her daughter causing a storm to follow with her.

Demeter!Reader who during her mourning met a young boy who was trying to escape from Disciples by climbing the large wall fence only to accidentally fall into her garden and get caught by one of her servants

Demeter!Reader who when summoned to where the boy was upon first looks saw how some of the boy’s features resembled her daughter and begins to feel a gravitational pull towards the boy which led to the sky’s becoming clearer.

Demeter!Reader who calmed the boy down telling him that they weren’t going to hurt him nor turn him in.

Demeter!Reader who allowed the boy to enter her home (due to the law of Xenia) and gives the boy a bowl of fruit as a snack

Demeter!Reader who watches in surprise when the young white haired boy eats one grape before scarfing down the other fruits in the bowl

Demeter!Reader who noticed that the boy had a bag full of what looked like garbage and questioned him about it?

Demeter!Reader who was yelled at by the boy who said that it wasn’t trash because it could still be fixed

Demeter!Reader who decided to let that slide but warned the boy that he should be careful of how he says things because it could end up getting him into real trouble

Demeter!Reader who made a deal with the boy that she would forgive him if he could make her something to replace the flower bed he destroyed and he reluctantly agreed

Demeter!Reader who learned the young boy’s name was Rudo and that he was ten and she gave him her fake name

Demeter!Reader who began looking forward to Rudo’s visits and would watch as he would work on fixing not only the flowerbed but also recycled all sorts of things to plant in the garden

Demeter!Reader who would talk to the curious boy and explain what each plant could be used for both the benefits and drawbacks

Demeter!Reader who would give Rudo a bowl of food before he had to leave to ensure he at least ate something and it was always paired with a drink that was practically liquid gold (sugar) to Rudo’s tastebuds

Demeter!Reader who would warmly smile at the boy as his mortality was slowly burning away due to the ambrosia tea (only a drop of the nectar as to not make him combust into flames)

Demeter!Reader who gradually throughout the years became a mother figure to Rudo because she seemed to actually care for him. This was confirmed when she accidentally saw his hands for the first time when he was trying to bandage them and her reaction wasn’t disgust rather sympathy as she gently helped him bandage his hands.

Demeter!Reader who just held him and told him that he didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to but she was there for him if he ever needed her

Demeter!Reader who would always hum a sweet lullaby often causing Rudo to fall asleep on her shoulder and she would always stay still until he woke up.

Demeter!Reader who would always hide him from the Disciples whenever he did his trash raids

Demeter!Reader who gave him advice on the girl he liked ‘What was her name again? Kiki? Chikia? Eh.” Even though she couldn’t care less about the girl she could tell she ment a lot to Rudo so she tried to care at least for him.

Demeter!Reader who when finding out that her son was to be executed via the pit ran as fast as she could to try to stop it

Demeter!Reader who was only a minute too late and had to watch the boy, who helped heal a piece of her broken heart, fall in front of her

Demeter!Reader who fell onto her knees and began heavily breathing as her body started shaking with tears falling from her face

Demeter!Reader whose screams shook the sphere as she cried out her boy’s name—

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A̶͖͖̱͂͗A̴̖̺̓̀A̶̠̮͍̍̄Ą̵͍͐͠͠A̵̹̥͒̀ͅA̴̜̍A̵̤͌̍Ả̷̺̪̦́̆A̷̬͚͆̄A̸̳̘̮͒̇́Ä̶̳́̆̅A̵͚̅̉A̷̖͎̗͑̐̈́A̷̠̥̫͐͂̍A̷̯̺͔͌̈Ä̵͓̫́̑Ȁ̷͙͑̎A̸̺̐̌Ă̸̮̹͝͝Ă̵͔̣Ä̶̢̞̮́Ä̷̬͍̭́͆̚A̵͇̤̾͜Ã̴͓̮͒͝A̶̜̮͓̒̊Ä̷̬́́͜͝A̶̳̭͎̒͂A̶̛̞͈͌̆A̷̫͉̭̅̇͝Ǟ̷͍͘Â̸̬͈̮̏Â̴̧̻̝̅A̶̘̯̐̅̾Ả̶̯̰̀͠Ạ̴͔͆̚͝Ä̴͕̪̪A̴̦̞͐A̴̟̘͑̈́͝À̷̙͠Ä̶̢̢̠́͝A̶͙̩͝A̸͎͇̥͝Â̸͚͖A̴͜͝A̷̯̾̍A̴̧͎͐̀Ǎ̶͓̻̬Ą̵̹͋ͅÃ̶̻̉̍A̸͈̿͜͝A̴̻̮̎A̶͖͎̪͂A̴̧̛̫͉A̵̠̠͛̈̋Ạ̴̛͕͊A̵̡̛̫̜̽À̴͇̤̏A̸̘̝̪̕Ã̸̦̠͊͛A̴̛̬̘̋A̴̲̺͕̬̖̜̫ͭ̈́̒͐͗͆͂̋̏ͦ̀ͦͧͧ͘͟͞ͅÀ̵̴͙͉̼̭̗̺̫̘̬̊̂͆̇̓̅̑͋ͬ͆͜Ą̭̫̱̮͍̹̭̜̩͐͂́ͤ̌̈̈́ͧ̀ͤ͝A̛̺̞͎͙̯͍̼̘̥͑͊́̃ͤ̑̍̀ͮͧ̔̅̎́͋̕̕͟͝ͅA̴̧̨̧̡̢͎̥̥̤̭̠̼͚̮͉̳̹̬͛̇̔ͫͣ̎̍ͭ̿̒̓͋̆̽̀͒̍̔͛͐͊͘̚͠͡Â̷̡̨͚̜̲̦̘͈̹͇͖̲̙̰̍ͫ̒̇͐̄ͧ̄ͪͬ͂ͨ͟_̯̙ͪͦ͘A̶̢̧̨̡͓͙̠̹͙͍̲͚̅͐ͩͬͭ̌̀ͥͧͤ̎ͪ́ͬ̑̉ͪ̎ͫ͜͡ͅA̴̧̩̪̩̰̜̦͔͓̱̹̰̮̙͌ͬ̂̅͊ͪ̀ͮ̽̈́̾̄̽͛ͯ͋͒ͤ͑̋̀͞͠A̵̡̛̼̺͕̮̺̪͚̤͓̤͕̝͕͇̒̿ͭ̀̉ͯ̾̃̔͆̋̍̎̚͟͠A̧̢͓͕̝̤̙̪͚̤̺͎̹͍̒́̐̔̿̄A̘̝̤̲̰̭͖̹͇̪̫̻̮̣̍ͣ͆͑͐́ͤ͗ͩ̊̐ͨ̐̏͗̊͂̃̓ͮ̑̕͢͢͞͝͝Ǎ̶̴̪̮̺͔̞ͣͤ̌̉̒ͩ̆ͥ̀́̽̐̕͠͠Å̩̓͐Ȃ̘̑_̸̶̸̵̨̧̢̗̫̘͖̝̠͈̣̱̟̽̎̐̓̃͗ͧͫ̀̏̌̅̃̉̚Ą̴̶̡̤̣̗̯͖͔̩̲̼̗̪̣̣̣̤̪́͌ͦ̀̓̎ͯͯ̓͐̂ͨͬ̚͘͢͟͢͡͠͞A̸̶͇̫̥̞̦͙͔̪͓ͬ̐͋ͩ̾̋͜͢ͅA̴̴̷̷̴̸̛͇͍̞̥̞͙̳̹̘̭͎̱̺̺̺͋ͦ̏ͪ́̔́͒̚͢͠Ą̷̧̛̛̞̖̰̻̻̹̠̰̼͚͂̎ͮͩ́̇͛ͫ̌͛͟͟͢ͅA̶̵̧̛̳̺̰̙͖͖̙̝͌̓ͬͦ͆̔ͧͦ̅̍̃ͪͩ̑̿̌͊̏̓̓͞͝Ȁ̡̰̭̼̦̲̼̰̓̽́̒͗͞À̪̮͎̮ͣ̂̏͌̐͘͡A̷̼̘̻ͯ́͂̈́͊̉̊̀̀̃̽́̉ͬͅ_̸̳̺̺̇ͧ̓͛̋̓͜_͒ͪ͘Ą̶̴̺̜̪̜̣̤̥̣̅̓̓ͯͭ̃ͩ̿̕͜͡͠Ḁ̴̴̸̷͍̤̻̝͔̰͇̪̣̹̤̻̗̳ͬ͐̒͛̿̄̅͋͌͛ͬͭ͊ͣ̌ͧ̇A̢̡̧̡̜͖͚͇̝̩̝̻͉̹̹̜̖̝̥̯͎͓ͧ̄̓̏̍ͪ̈̒̋͑͐̋̉̑ͪͣ̚̚͞͡Ä̢̛̤̬̙̬̲͙̬͕̥̯̲́̽͊̋̉͂̍̌ͪ͐ͦͪ̀͜͝A̛̞̹ͯ_̵̶̶̶̨̺̻̘̻̔ͦ̊ͥͮͭ̀̄̀̐̐͋́̀͢ͅA̛̗͉͉̮ͭͤ̉͒͗͢AA̭̦̤̺̬̯̮̖̱̒ͤͫͨͣͩ̔͑̂͂A̷̡̤̣ͪ̽ͯ̄̊͋̅̚Ȧ̷̵̱̱̙̖ͭͤͥͧ̃̄̋͠A̵̗ͩ̊ͦ A̶͖͖̱͂͗A̴̖̺̓̀A̶̠̮͍̍̄Ą̵͍͐͠͠A̵̹̥͒̀ͅA̴̜̍A̵̤͌̍Ả̷̺̪̦́̆A̷̬͚͆̄A̸̳̘̮͒̇́Ä̶̳́̆̅A̵͚̅̉A̷̖͎̗͑̐̈́A̷̠̥̫͐͂̍A̷̯̺͔͌̈Ä̵͓̫́̑Ȁ̷͙͑̎A̸̺̐̌Ă̸̮̹͝͝Ă̵͔̣Ä̶̢̞̮́Ä̷̬͍̭́͆̚A̵͇̤̾͜Ã̴͓̮͒͝A̶̜̮͓̒̊Ä̷̬́́͜͝A̶̳̭͎̒͂A̶̛̞͈͌̆A̷̫͉̭̅̇͝Ǟ̷͍͘Â̸̬͈̮̏Â̴̧̻̝̅A̶̘̯̐̅̾Ả̶̯̰̀͠Ạ̴͔͆̚͝Ä̴͕̪̪A̴̦̞͐A̴̟̘͑̈́͝À̷̙͠Ä̶̢̢̠́͝A̶͙̩͝A̸͎͇̥͝Â̸͚͖A̴͜͝A̷̯̾̍A̴̧͎͐̀Ǎ̶͓̻̬Ą̵̹͋ͅÃ̶̻̉̍A̸͈̿͜͝A̴̻̮̎A̶͖͎̪͂A̴̧̛̫͉A̵̠̠͛̈̋Ạ̴̛͕͊A̵̡̛̫̜̽À̴͇̤̏A̸̘̝̪̕Ã̸̦̠͊͛A̴̛̬̘̋A̴̲̺͕̬̖̜̫ͭ̈́̒͐͗͆͂̋̏ͦ̀ͦͧͧ͘͟͞ͅÀ̵̴͙͉̼̭̗̺̫̘̬̊̂͆̇̓̅̑͋ͬ͆͜Ą̭̫̱̮͍̹̭̜̩͐͂́ͤ̌̈̈́ͧ̀ͤ͝A̛̺̞͎͙̯͍̼̘̥͑͊́̃ͤ̑̍̀ͮͧ̔̅̎́͋̕̕͟͝ͅA̴̧̨̧̡̢͎̥̥̤̭̠̼͚̮͉̳̹̬͛̇̔ͫͣ̎̍ͭ̿̒̓͋̆̽̀͒̍̔͛͐͊͘̚͠͡Â̷̡̨͚̜̲̦̘͈̹͇͖̲̙̰̍ͫ̒̇͐̄ͧ̄ͪͬ͂ͨ͟_̯̙ͪͦ͘A̶̢̧̨̡͓͙̠̹͙͍̲͚̅͐ͩͬͭ̌̀ͥͧͤ̎ͪ́ͬ̑̉ͪ̎ͫ͜͡ͅA̴̧̩̪̩̰̜̦͔͓̱̹̰̮̙͌ͬ̂̅͊ͪ̀ͮ̽̈́̾̄̽͛ͯ͋͒ͤ͑̋̀͞͠A̵̡̛̼̺͕̮̺̪͚̤͓̤͕̝͕͇̒̿ͭ̀̉ͯ̾̃̔͆̋̍̎̚͟͠A̧̢͓͕̝̤̙̪͚̤̺͎̹͍̒́̐̔̿̄A̘̝̤̲̰̭͖̹͇̪̫̻̮̣̍ͣ͆͑͐́ͤ͗ͩ̊̐ͨ̐̏͗̊͂̃̓ͮ̑̕͢͢͞͝͝Ǎ̶̴̪̮̺͔̞ͣͤ̌̉̒ͩ̆ͥ̀́̽̐̕͠͠Å̩̓͐Ȃ̘̑_̸̶̸̵̨̧̢̗̫̘͖̝̠͈̣̱̟̽̎̐̓̃͗ͧͫ̀̏̌̅̃̉̚Ą̴̶̡̤̣̗̯͖͔̩̲̼̗̪̣̣̣̤̪́͌ͦ̀̓̎ͯͯ̓͐̂ͨͬ̚͘͢͟͢͡͠͞A̸̶͇̫̥̞̦͙͔̪͓ͬ̐͋ͩ̾̋͜͢ͅA̴̴̷̷̴̸̛͇͍̞̥̞͙̳̹̘̭͎̱̺̺̺͋ͦ̏ͪ́̔́͒̚͢͠Ą̷̧̛̛̞̖̰̻̻̹̠̰̼͚͂̎ͮͩ́̇͛ͫ̌͛͟͟͢ͅA̶̵̧̛̳̺̰̙͖͖̙̝͌̓ͬͦ͆̔ͧͦ̅̍̃ͪͩ̑̿̌͊̏̓̓͞͝Ȁ̡̰̭̼̦̲̼̰̓̽́̒͗͞À̪̮͎̮ͣ̂̏͌̐͘͡A̷̼̘̻ͯ́͂̈́͊̉̊̀̀̃̽́̉ͬͅ_̸̳̺̺̇ͧ̓͛̋̓͜_͒ͪ͘Ą̶̴̺̜̪̜̣̤̥̣̅̓̓ͯͭ̃ͩ̿̕͜͡͠Ḁ̴̴̸̷͍̤̻̝͔̰͇̪̣̹̤̻̗̳ͬ͐̒͛̿̄̅͋͌͛ͬͭ͊ͣ̌ͧ̇A̢̡̧̡̜͖͚͇̝̩̝̻͉̹̹̜̖̝̥̯͎͓ͧ̄̓̏̍ͪ̈̒̋͑͐̋̉̑ͪͣ̚̚͞͡Ä̢̛̤̬̙̬̲͙̬͕̥̯̲́̽͊̋̉͂̍̌ͪ͐ͦͪ̀͜͝A̛̞̹ͯ_̵̶̶̶̨̺̻̘̻̔ͦ̊ͥͮͭ̀̄̀̐̐͋́̀͢ͅA̛̗͉͉̮ͭͤ̉͒͗͢AA̭̦̤̺̬̯̮̖̱̒ͤͫͨͣͩ̔͑̂͂A̷̡̤̣ͪ̽ͯ̄̊͋̅̚Ȧ̷̵̱̱̙̖ͭͤͥͧ̃̄̋͠A̵̗ͩ̊ͦH̴̪͕͋͐H̵͇̊ͅĤ̴̖̂͘Ḩ̵̙̾͌̽H̸̨̳̐͘Ḩ̸͔͛H̴̞̖̿͛H̵͕͈͙̍H̷͙̔̔͘Ḧ̷̰́͗H̸͉̽͛͒ͅȞ̵̨̛̖̇H̴͕͉̖́͗͋Ḧ̵̺͕́͛̕H̸̹͍̪̆̽H̵̲̞̓̾͠H̸͈̀H̶̢͔̾H̶̖̓̆̏Ḧ̷̺Ḥ̸̬̹́H̸̹̳͛H̵̭͋H̶͇̣̀H̵̲̖́H̶̱̹̒́H̶̲̤̎̓H̸̫̾H̸̺͑̒̉H̴͔̹͖͑̃̃H̷͈̞̀͛̐H̸̯̒̅H̴̞̙̪͂H̶͌͘ͅH̷̦̼̜̊̐H̷̯͚̬́̽͐H̸͖̖̀H̵̻̭͉͐H̷͚̟̗͌́H̫̪̼̘̩̬̭̑̕Hͫ͛H̷̻̼̹̘ͭ̓ͨ̿̐͂̔͝ͅH̼͚̜̯̜̘̱͕͚̘̣͖ͯ̉͋ͪ͑͊̍̍͐͡H̴̷͖͇ͤͫ̉̉̍̎̂ͨH̴̵̷̶̸̨͕̳̙̣͕̲̱͔̣̥ͣ̂ͯ͒ͨ̀̓̎͌ͪ̆̊͐̕̕͢͢͞Ḫ̷̢̨͈̘͈͉̼̰̬̗̰̭̇̉̾̈́͑ͤͩ̇̊͑̄́͛͒̚̕͠H̵̢̨̡̛̳̼̮͓̖͙͇̉͗́̑́ͮ͛ͥ̉̇̇͌̈́̽̄ͨ͠͞ͅH̗̜͙̭̀̃ͭͬͫ͢H̖̱̗̙͂͒̔̂̓̌͢͢͞H̴̢̜͓̖͚͎̙̩͛̓ͬ̍̎̎͘H̞͔̋ͮ͟Ḩ̮ͭ̉̒ͯ͝ͅH̷̵̨̨̳͎̩͎͇̮͉̗̫͖̳͆ͧ̈́̀̀̽ͥ̌̋̌̿ͯ̀͠H̦H͙̮̲ͨ̋̋́̇͟͜H̴̸̵̫͕̻̩̩̹̹͕̉̄̍̄͆͡͡H̢̧̺̪̖̺̮̟̎͂̔̑̈́̽͌̌H̶̗̙̼̳͖̩͎̗͇͈̺͉̭͒͆͐̄̓̀͋͐͐̂͒ͦ̀͛̇ͫ͒̆̑ͥ̌̕̕͜͝H͔̜̯H̶̓͘͢͡H̷̷͍͓̲̙̤̣̺̱ͭ͆̍̌̊ͯ̔̽H̴͎̣̬̹͖̼̠͈͙͑ͫͧͪ͛͆͋͆ͦ̓͟͞Ḩ̴̦̰̺͉͓ͮ̾̇͐͐̒͑͋ͧͦ͆H̡̫̬̓́͒̕͘͢͝_̦̰͇̈̂̋͋̒̔̕Ḧ̶̪̮͕̠̩̦͙͍́ͣ̑̍̓͌̓̅ͯͦ͊̆ͣ͝H̰̾Hͥ̄ͩ̀ͩͭ̚͢_̰̺̭̯̹̦ͫ̌̈ͣͧH̩͍͕͗͝H̴̪͕͋͐H̵͇̊ͅĤ̴̖̂͘Ḩ̵̙̾͌̽H̸̨̳̐͘Ḩ̸͔͛H̴̞̖̿͛H̵͕͈͙̍H̷͙̔̔͘Ḧ̷̰́͗H̸͉̽͛͒ͅȞ̵̨̛̖̇H̴͕͉̖́͗͋Ḧ̵̺͕́͛̕H̸̹͍̪̆̽H̵̲̞̓̾͠H̸͈̀H̶̢͔̾H̶̖̓̆̏Ḧ̷̺Ḥ̸̬̹́H̸̹̳͛H̵̭͋H̶͇̣̀H̵̲̖́H̶̱̹̒́H̶̲̤̎̓H̸̫̾H̸̺͑̒̉H̴͔̹͖͑̃̃H̷͈̞̀͛̐H̸̯̒̅H̴̞̙̪͂H̶͌͘ͅH̷̦̼̜̊̐H̷̯͚̬́̽͐H̸͖̖̀H̵̻̭͉͐H̷͚̟̗͌́H̫̪̼̘̩̬̭̑̕Hͫ͛H̷̻̼̹̘ͭ̓ͨ̿̐͂̔͝ͅH̼͚̜̯̜̘̱͕͚̘̣͖ͯ̉͋ͪ͑͊̍̍͐͡H̴̷͖͇ͤͫ̉̉̍̎̂ͨH̴̵̷̶̸̨͕̳̙̣͕̲̱͔̣̥ͣ̂ͯ͒ͨ̀̓̎͌ͪ̆̊͐̕̕͢͢͞Ḫ̷̢̨͈̘͈͉̼̰̬̗̰̭̇̉̾̈́͑ͤͩ̇̊͑̄́͛͒̚̕͠H̵̢̨̡̛̳̼̮͓̖͙͇̉͗́̑́ͮ͛ͥ̉̇̇͌̈́̽̄ͨ͠͞ͅH̗̜͙̭̀̃ͭͬͫ͢H̖̱̗̙͂͒̔̂̓̌͢͢͞H̴̢̜͓̖͚͎̙̩͛̓ͬ̍̎̎͘H̞͔̋ͮ͟Ḩ̮ͭ̉̒ͯ͝ͅH̷̵̨̨̳͎̩͎͇̮͉̗̫͖̳͆ͧ̈́̀̀̽ͥ̌̋̌̿ͯ̀͠H̦H͙̮̲ͨ̋̋́̇͟͜H̴̸̵̫͕̻̩̩̹̹͕̉̄̍̄͆͡͡H̢̧̺̪̖̺̮̟̎͂̔̑̈́̽͌̌H̶̗̙̼̳͖̩͎̗͇͈̺͉̭͒͆͐̄̓̀͋͐͐̂͒ͦ̀͛̇ͫ͒̆̑ͥ̌̕̕͜͝H͔̜̯H̶̓͘͢͡H̷̷͍͓̲̙̤̣̺̱ͭ͆̍̌̊ͯ̔̽H̴͎̣̬̹͖̼̠͈͙͑ͫͧͪ͛͆͋͆ͦ̓͟͞Ḩ̴̦̰̺͉͓ͮ̾̇͐͐̒͑͋ͧͦ͆H̡̫̬̓́͒̕͘͢͝_̦̰͇̈̂̋͋̒̔̕Ḧ̶̪̮͕̠̩̦͙͍́ͣ̑̍̓͌̓̅ͯͦ͊̆ͣ͝H̰̾Hͥ̄ͩ̀ͩͭ̚͢_̰̺̭̯̹̦ͫ̌̈ͣͧH̩͍͕͗͝_͕̞͕͑͗_̸̧̩̖̦͓̩͉̹̼̲̘̅̈̓̌̑́͋͛͒ͬ̆̔͌̽̀͟͠͞H̞͢H̷̡͉̭̬̘͇͓̯̀͗ͮ͐̂͋ͫ̓ͤ̈̈́͟͜͠͞H̷̡̛̝̼͔͎͉͈̜̥͉̾ͨͬ͋̍̆̃͑̾̓͒̈̀̕͢͞͠H̥̮͈͓̮̱̒ͨ͋̐͛ͤͯ͑ͬ͆ͧͬ̆̐͢͠

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

End Notes: Sorry if this was bad I literally am worn down but if anyone wants to take this idea and run their own spin on it go right ahead. Rudo was basically took the role of Demophon; who was a baby that Demeter took care of after finding out what happened to her daughter and tried to make him immortal by burning his mortality with fire I figured I’d do it with ambrosia

Taglist: @vivilaviva,

But! Hear me out!

Leo x Demeter!Reader

Fire and earth; metal and plants. They're pure contrasts, they shouldn't mix, but somehow they do!

And then them finding things in common, like the fact they both work their craft with their hands (Leo yelding metal, reader gardening or cooking). The fact they're both sweaty and covered in dirt by the end of the day, only thing is that Leo's is oil and grease while reader's is literal dirt or flour.

Food, you realize with despair, she's eaten his food.

Of course she did, shes just a child, she couldn't have known —she must have been hungry— and you, her mother, weren't there to guide her, to tell her no.

"Daddy always gives me dessert," she tells you excitedly and you force a smile, your own plate untouched as Kore squished her potatoes into a mash.

persephone panicking cuz she thinks Hades!price is after her, but no silly girl he’s after your mum.

In my head Kore is a little girl, someone who'd just stood up with a clumsily wound flower crown set atop her doll's head and started running to show you when the ground had swallowed her whole. A scared little girl who'd screamed for her mother as she disappeared into the earth you'd so devoutly nurtured. And a man you knew all too well cradling her in his arms with a smile as the dirt rained down on them as final as a grave.

Getting permission to go down to get your baby is hell. The goddess of life isnt meant to visit the world of the dead. "What would happen?" The gods ask, "would the crops die? Would the humans starve?" You dont know, but neither do they, and the endless back and forth draws your grief out long enough to wither every field, until the soil is barren and scorched. Maybe the humans will starve if you do step foot in hades, but their deaths are guaranteed if you don't.

Hermes guides you down, a good boy, he tells you he was on your side from the beginning and that this is long overdue. You dismiss him before your hand touches Price's door, unwilling to let a child witness your fury. You cant even imagine the state your baby must be in, and its that thought which seals Price's fate.

you have no idea how strong the greek mythology hyperfixation grip is on me i love your hades and demeter bits so so so much i can imagine reader wanting to go full scorched earth and get so far away from hades but can’t because of her foolish ( naïve— trusting) daughter and never in a million years would she leave her with that scoundrel who planned all of this.

it isn't her fault, you just have to keep telling yourself that.

kore is just a little girl, she was hungry so she ate, she couldn't have known what would happen, but now she, and by extension you, are trapped.

you refuse to leave your daughter alone while the gods hem and haw over what to do about her. refuse to give her up to the man that stole her from you. refuse to give in to the will of the gods telling you that those living in Hades' domain are his property, as if she were some thing and not a vibrant little girl being denied the sun. your baby is a goddess of spring and here she is playing with bones.

she digs her fingers into graves where she should be turning over fertile soil. she giggles at beetles and worms as the flowers in her hair wither. you want nothing more than to leave with her, but every passing day brings you closer and closer to the realization that she may never come home, and with that realization comes something much much stronger than anger: despair.

But also Price fucking Reader over graveyard dirt so he can see flowers and plants grow underneath her.

isn't it natural to covet what you don't have? to look at you neighbor, your brother, and feel envy welling in your breast?

John Price wants with his teeth

and what he wants is you.

you are his antithesis, soft where he is hard, kind where he is indifferent, warm and loving,

and fertile.

he can almost smell it on you, pulling your hand from where you dig your nails into his shoulder to kiss your wrist. you smell like dirt, rich and dark and wet. you smell like grain, green and earthen and filling. you smell like honey, sweet and inviting, mouthwatering. it's a miracle no other god has sought you out, that you don't have a gaggle of children toddling after you. the way you soften with the seasons, your body full and luscious with the harvest, the other gods are fools to let you plant the seed of a child yourself. if it were him-

but it is him now.

it's his domain, and his rules which govern it.

and for as long as your child is his, you will be too.

the gods try to keep out of Price's affairs. nothing good comes from associating with a man who holds the golden strands of their life between his sheers. he is cold and calculating, unwilling to attend the parties that the gods so often throw. his very presence chills the air, his bitterness poisons the wine, he is an undesirable guest to mortals and gods alike.

the fact that you have drawn his eye is a curse of the highest order. if it were any other goddess the rest of olympus may have ignored your pleas, but you're draining their favorite past-time of vitality with your grieving and whining. it's only too bad that Price's rules are iron clad. the living do not enter the land of the dead and those who have eaten the food of the dead are bound to the land. the gods do not interfere with Price's business, and in turn he doesn't interfere in theirs.

your petitions are growing tiresome.

what's one child? the gods argue. they spill their seed and forget their fatherhood so easily, why should it by any different for you? motherhood, ha! hera could cast her son down a mountain without remorse, do you claim to be better than the queen of the gods?

your eyes are hollow.

people will die. the harvest will fail. there will be no offerings. there will be no praises. you promise.

and there are no offerings, no praises, but there is also no death. Price has refused entry to all but you, has kept Thanatos contained, has halted death. humanity can do nothing but wail in their starvation, begging for a release that will never come, for crops that will never grow.

the gods wait nervously for you to return, for the opportunity to bargain with your hollow-eyed stare. perhaps they could intervene just this once. but you don't return, you've taken your pleas to a higher power.