please, if you have the time and/or are feeling generous, please expand on that horror soulmate ran idea where he likes flexing his influence and power over you while you’re on shift….what kind of restaurant does reader work at? is the high-end kind where customers who look as rich and charming as ran come often…..or is it some regular diner/local favorite and ran likes coming over to call you sweetheart and darling and he likes tipping you $50-$100 bills………………………..he tips bigger and orders so much when he brings some work associates over during their lunch break or something 0_0
dior im so glad you ask bc I've been ruminating over these very questions for like a month....
yandere tw, ran is harassing the shit out of you at work rip, soulmate au, she/her pronouns for reader
i think you work at a really small rundown sort of place open 24 hours. pulling 12-hour shifts 12 days in a row just to pay the bills. it's pure and total chance that ran and his...associates waltz into your establishment. it's late and you're so so exhausted. you absolutely do not like the look of them. they're dressed nicely, too nicely for a place like this and they don't even bother trying to hide the guns peaking out from their waistbands. and beyond that you can smell it on them. you know their type. the type that get too handsy, that hold their tips over your head. make you do a song and dance and for what? the two dollars they'll so generously leave you when all is said and done? it's a fucking joke and you hate them all before they've even said a word to you.
your feet hurt so badly that you're limping a bit when you go to greet them and the smile you put on feels carved into your cheeks, throbbing like a wound. all their faces look the same to you. a big blur of dangerous man after man after man. you write down their orders without really listening. you want this over as fast as possible. you were set to be off in an hour, but with a group this big, you know that's now nothing but a pipe dream. god you're so so tired--
"and what is it you'd recommend, darling?"
something about the voice makes your eyes shoot up. airy, smooth, and nonchalant in a way that makes you grind your teeth and reluctantly pulls your attention. there's a nauseating sort of authority in it that has your hackles raised.
you're a bit shocked when you see who has spoken. he's pretty. long hair, obviously well kept, a tattoo on the side of his neck that makes you rather nervous, but it's his eyes that makes you step back. you feel the shift in the air when your gaze meets his, a crackling energy, two halves being made whole and all the other sappy shit people say when describing their first meeting with their soulmate.
no one mentions how scary it is, though. it's like you've lost a limb. or gained a parasite. you swear you can feel him in the back of your skull, already eating away at you. you don't want this. you don't want this. take it back you almost say aloud. please please take it back.
the man (your soulmate?) doesn't say a word. there's a slight quirk on his lips, but that could be anything. could mean anything.
you take a breath. you're tired—very tired—and now you're imagining things—delusional. your heartbeat slows. everything's fine. it's fine.
"ah ran, you've left the poor thing starstruck," a man to his right says, jostling him a bit.
the man—ran—tilts his head, still waiting, rather patiently, for a reply from his apparently airheaded waitress, struck down by his pretty face.
it's rather scary, being the sole focus of his attention. it's as though he's flaying your skin from your flesh, leaving you defenseless. like you're nothing but a young girl again, alone and cold and hopeless beneath his eyes.
it takes you too long to gather your wits. "the omelets are okay, good for a cold night." you just barely manage to keep the trembling from your voice, a shrillness that would in any way reveal your fear.
he smiles now, a real one. and it scares you. so amused by you, his little shaking waitress. "just okay?" he asks, taking pleasure in teasing you no doubt.
"this isn't a place you come to if you're looking for something gourmet." better to be honest than to get their hopes up. you can smell the money on them.
he laughs and you have to bite back your tears, you really dont like him. there's terror worming it's way beneath your skin. "it was a last resort, i'll go with the omelet, darling."
+
when you bring out their food you assume that will be it, at least for a little while. you'll refill their drinks again and again and again and pray they'll be gone by 2, but the worst of it is done. you'll hide in the back for the most part until they're gone. it'll be fine.
your hopes are quite quickly dashed once you set ran's food in front of him, avoiding eye contact but unable to keep the tremor from your fingers. before you can dart away his hand lashes out, forming a shackle around your wrist. tugging you far closer to him than you'd ever want to be.
"why don't you join us for a bit. you seem tired. perhaps you're a bit hungry too?" he asks it like a question, but you know it's not. he has that sort of authority about him that lets you know he's used to be listened to. used to giving out orders and having them followed. you don't like it, and you make excuses even though you know it'll bode badly for you.
"i can't sir, i'm so sorry, but im still working and my boss will be--"
he cuts you off quickly and uncaring. "he won't mind."
he most definitely would, you think. your boss reminds you of ran a bit, in the way that he likes to exert power over others. quick to insult you, quick to admonish and threaten. he most definitely would care if he saw you sitting with some customers, even if the rest of the place was deserted.
"sir," you start again, "i could be fired please--"
"what's his name?"
you're taken aback. a bit confused, too. "your boss, darling. what's his name?"
there's a long pause before you say anything at all.
"hikaru," you tell him at last.
he smiles at you, tugs you in even closer. "thank you."
he smells good, you think absently. expensive.
"hikaru!" he yells suddenly, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. your boss is quick to appear, looking like a beat dog. he seems to recognize ran, and he seems to be scared of him and you really, really don't like that.
"is there something i can help you with, sir?" he asks, timid as a mouse. your heart stops. there's something wrong here, you think. there's something very wrong and it's too late. its too late.
you're sitting beside ran now, his arm wrapped around you and his hand rubbing your shaking shoulder soothingly. "you wouldn't mind if she joined us, would you? we could use the company."
your boss' eyes flit over to you, just barely, before he bows his head again. "of course not, sir. it's no problem at all."
ran turns to you at that. "you hear that, darling. no problem at all." you look down and can't help but notice drops of red marring the pristine white of his dress shirt. it's right on the cuff. it's dried now, more brown than anything else but you recognize it for what it is.
you can't help but think you've stepped into a bear trap of sorts, and now your foot has been cut clean off. you’re screaming and screaming, trying to staunch the bleeding and ran won’t stop smiling.
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this is my first time trying to write mess and contagion, sorry it is short im still trying to figure out how to write it
had to do it with @dr-ground-zero bbys and I oc "the weather boys" ™ (I will eventually make a post about all of them and how we created this world we have)
So enjoy Gale and Orpheus
“I'm gonna-- HITSSHEW!”
“Bless you, that one was a big!”
“Snffphrrrkrkkrrkk- ughhhh.” The darker-shaded nymph curled tighter into the auburn-haired spirit.
“You have caught a bad one, huh?” Gale had been with Orpheus a little longer than 4 years after the reincarnation, and during that time, he had seen a lot. Heck, he has done a lot, but this illness had its vice grips in Orpheus, and Gale could only do so much to ease his discomfort. Mostly, that meant catching his sneezes.
“iiiihhh-uhhhh-hahhh…uhHUHhiiiiHAhhh.” His chest started to rise and fall, slowly increasing in speed as his red-lined nose began to twitch. Gale held him tightly as he was prone to hitching and losing the sneeze at the last second. He cooed in his lover's ear softly, encouraging him.
“Let it out, or you’ll be miserable all night.”
“i-i'm tr-tryig hahh haaah!huhh” he exhaled defeated and looked up at Gale with his golden eyes pleading. No words were said, but Gale got the message, ‘help me sneeze.’
Gale chuckled and grabbed a tissue from the rapidly emptying box and placed them around his lover's nose.
The invitation was more than enough approval for him, and he surged forward into the awaiting tissues.
“hh! Hhh! 'tchht! Hah'tCHNx! Hh'tSchh! Hh'tchShh! T'chishh! Gh'tsSHh!” The nymph started to sneeze, filling the tissues, and Gale had to adjust his grip so he didn’t get the mess on his hand, not that he would complain. When the fit seemed to calm down, he abandoned the tissues, which were more like wet pieces of cardboard, and switched to the cuff of his hoodie, which he knew tended to be rougher on the nose of the other.
Orpheus caught on to this immediately as his nose started to react to the rough fabric. He tried to sniffle, but the mess of cold had already flowed from his nose onto his upper lip and down his chin. Gale's heart swelled as well as another part, and he quickly swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Aw, so messy are you, nymphy. You’re going to give me this cold, aren’t you?”
Orpheus blushed, his cheeks turning a darker shade of blue. His breathing caught in his throat.
“hsnff ib not trying it just Oh no…” they mutter softly as their breath starts hitching.
“hAHt’TSCHhh-!! hsnff- haAH’SSCHHhieww!! oh by god. hsndrff!” He sniffles rather liquidity and exhales in a soft huff. “itchy”
“Bless you,” Gale kisses their cheek. “Goodness, so messy aren’t you, you can't control that nose of yours, can you?”
“hh’Thagks. ‘mb sorry, that was… a wet ode,” they murmur sleepily, and keep sniffling thickly. “hsnrff!”
Gale responds by kissing his nose. The effect was immediate, and Orpheus took a deep inhale and gripped onto him and buried his nose into Gale’s shoulder.
❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?
Oh man, good question!
Probably for the connotation that government is corrupt on both sides, and that it's up to people to fix it/the vampires are actually not inherently evil and have QUITE the impact on government failings.
Tbh I did not realize the overall thing until answering this question, but that IS one of the connotations in story. The vampires are quite the catalyst to realizing just how evil everything truly is, and how Eris will eventually be faced with a very difficult choice; in a VERY hard way.
Again thank to @dr-ground-zero I have written a fic. this time modern Au for Penelope and Odysseus. 3k because i have no chill (i am fresh out of spoons tho don't expect anything for a bit)
Penelope works as a nurse and Odysseus is in the military
wrote a fic where ody catches the flu and Penelope takes care of him
cw MESS (not escaping the messfucker allegations) contagion
hope you enjo
“Penelope, your favorite patient is waiting in exam room three.” Said the red curly-haired receptionist as Penelope walked in.
“Mhmm,” she replied, with a curiosity as she put down her stack of the most recent case files.
“Oh, who would that be?” She spoke.
“Oh, I’m surprised you don’t know already. Odysseus is here and currently doesn’t have a nurse assigned. I wonder who should take his case?”
Penelope felt her heart skip a beat. She almost dropped all the files she had just been organizing. She tried to regain her composure and stammered out. “Oh, Odysseus is here, and he is…” She swallows the lump in her throat.
“Oh, he’s sick, but if you don’t want his case file, I can always give it to someone else.” The receptionist replied.
She practically snatched the paper out of her hands, holding it close to her chest, as if the paper itself were Odysseus.
“No, no, I am more than qualified to take this client. Let me just.” She went to the small mirror hanging on the wall. She didn’t look too bad considering that she had just done a full seven-hour shift. She undid her messy bun & ran her fingers through her hair before putting it back up into a top bun, a few strands hanging down by her face. She straightened her scrubs and uniform jacket. Lastly, she adjusted her stethoscope and practiced a few smiles in the mirror before realizing she’s keeping her number one crush waiting and just headed towards the exam room.
The layout of her small clinical office wasn’t big by any stretch of imagination, but exam room three was the farthest from the reception area. She silently cursed the receptionist for putting him so far away if he was indeed as sick as this chart was saying. How dare they make him walk that far, and she rounded the last corner. She saw the door with the big polka-dotted painted number three. She put the case file in the corresponding hanging file holder and knocked three times.
Hearing some noise from inside, she opened the door cautiously.
“Odysseus, can I come in?”
A very rough-sounding voice greeted her ears. “Yes, you could enter.”
She pushed the door open, stepping inside the fluorescent lit room before shutting it behind her. The image that greeted her eyes immediately melted her heart, melting through her body onto the floor.
Odysseus sat hunched over on the exam table, his eyes a complete sheen and glossy, his normally curly brown locks an absolute mess. He had perspiration on his forehead, yet she could tell that he was fighting back shivers. Penelope always had an eye for looking at someone and immediately knowing what was wrong, but when she looked at him, all she wanted to do was be next to him. She found herself struggling to speak. Luckily, he broke the silence first.
“Out of all the nurses, why did it have to be you to see me like this?” He said in an extremely congested and stuffy voice that after a few moments of silence, she finally found her voice again.
“Oh, darling,” she paused. The nickname just came out. She would never call someone she did not know a darling before, but in this moment, it just felt right. She cleared her throat and continued. “You look dreadful.”
If his face if not already flushed, it would have blushed a deeper red. He urgently stifled the sound, wet and productive.
“That is your Medical diagnosis that I have a case of dreadful, if so, I should take away your medical license.” He paused as his breath began to quicken. Recognizing what was about to happen, she reached into her pocket to search for a cover.
Odysseus snuffled against his hand and exhaled. “It has been doing that to me all day. I do not know why Athena decided to send me. It’s just a bad cold.”
But Penelope smiled, her voice soft and reassuring. “Your note said that you’ve had a fever for three days. Cold symptoms do not tend to last that long, you should be getting better by now. I don’t think this is a cold; I think you might have the flu.”
His eyes widened at her words, and he shook his head, which seemed to have pained him as he winced before speaking in his raspy voice. “No, I don’t have time to have the flu. I’ll be,” his voice started to catch, and his nose began to twitch.
Gripping the handkerchief, she walks a few paces over and covers for him, knowing this couldn’t end well even if he had been healthy.
The shocks and intimacy of this moment shake him out of whatever was holding him back before. He gasped deeply before sneezing into the handkerchief she held in front of his nose.
“Those were very big sneezes! Bless you!!” She rubs his nose into the cloth, blushing.
“Yeah, that’s just how I sneeze. Sorry, you didn’t need to do that.” He flushed his cheeks, turning a redder color.
“Oh, but I do. I’m here to make you all better now, aren’t I? Now I think you need a proper diagnosis, so we’ll run through this from the top.”
She grabbed the thermometer. “Come on, you know the drill, under the tongue, no talking.”
He opened his mouth and placed the thermometer under his tongue.
“Good soldier.” He made a sound of disapproval, but ended up more like a snort since he couldn’t breathe through his nose.
She took his blood pressure as she waited for the thermometer to beep and listened to his heartbeat.
The thermometer beeped, and she took it out, frowning at the red line hovering above number 100.
“Darling, you do have a fever! Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you get all better.” She rubbed his back in a comforting manner.
“But to do that, I need to run a test.”
He looked at her quizzically before his eyes sparked with understanding. He quickly covered his nose with his hands.
“No, no, I refuse. I have a right, and there’s no way you are not doing a flu test on me.”
“I need to make sure that you don’t have the flu, cause if you do, I can give you medicine! It’ll make you feel better, otherwise you’re just gonna get worse and worse.”
“No way I’m not that bad.” His breath began to quicken and hitch. “I do not have the flu. Just a bad cold.” He managed to stammer out before sneezing harshly into his hands.
“Bless you, bless you, nope, doctors' orders. We’re doing the test. I will be as gentle as I can.”
Penelope left the room, grabbing an extra box of tissues, the cheap kind that the clinic could barely afford, which would be no match for Odysseus’s nose. She came to the swabs used for the test. She carefully picked one which she hoped would be less irritating to his sensitive organ. As well as a few vials in which she would drop the test after. She gathered the supplies in her hands and slowly walked back to the exam room, her heart beating madly.
Why did he have to look so pitiful? She thought to herself. Penelope would never admit this to anyone; she could barely admit it to herself, but he looked so cute, so helpless as if everything was hard for him to do, but she could make him better. She could help him.
She shook her head, a few strands of hair coming loose, and pushed open the door. Odysseus still sat hunched over, roughly rubbing out his nose, abusing the poor thing. She sat down on her instruments in a cart next to the exam table.
He eyed them up and down, shivering, either from his fever or anticipation of what was to come. He asks his voice stuffy "Are those instruments of torture?"
She had to laugh, his voice was so congested it was barely understandable. "No, my soldier, these are things that will help you get better."
"How is sticking a Q-Tip in my nose going to help me get better?" he replied.
"Because that way, after I run the test, I’ll know if you have the flu, which I can give you antibiotics for."
He didn’t have a response to that and just wrapped his arms around himself tighter and said quietly. "I’m not going to be responsible for what happens."
Blushing, she nods in agreement. "Don’t worry, no one likes this test, and I have seen many react to this. I am sure I can handle your nose. Okay, darling, I need you to tilt your head back."
His nose looks so abused that the red coloration wasn’t just on the outside surface. It was around the edges of his nostrils, which before she even put the swab into, were flaring slightly.
She slowly inserts the swab until she feels resistance. The man beneath her gasps and grips onto the exam table, crinkling the paper. He begins to sniffle more aggressively.
She tsks at him. "Darling, you can’t do that. It’s okay, I know this is awful for everyone, just a few more seconds. I need to twist this around, okay?"
He nods at her breathlessly. She circles the inside once, twice, and on the third quickly retracts the swab and places it in the vial in her other hand.
Odysseus takes one final breath before releasing a series of wet and powerful sneezes that bend him at the waist. She finds herself catching him, so he doesn’t fall off the table.
“hHMFSHhh! zZSCHhh! Ahh…Hhz…haHh— eh’RHSCH’oo! Oh my god. hsndrff! HEE’TZSSSH’-Uhh…HEH-IHCHZSSH’oo!” he sniffles liquidly and exhales in a soft huff.
She finds her voice again. "Bless you, are you alive after that?"
He looked up at her, nose still flaring, the poor thing was more flushed after a matter of sneezes.
"No," he stammers out, his voice rough and gravely sounding. I think you broke my nose."
Her heart flips, and she smiles. "I did not break it. It's still there in one piece.” She says poking at the inflamed appendage.
That seemed to be the wrong move as he inhaled, his eyes began to panic.
"Oh, why would you do that?" He said while hitching desperately. Realizing her mistake, she grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them to his nose. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, here just sneeze. I got you."
His breath wavers in constant agony before he is thrust forward from the power of harsh sneezes into the tissues she is holding. The flimsy tissues did little to no good for the sound or the mess that was produced. Instantly, she could feel a mess seeping through the tissues onto her hand and blushed.
“Ugh…fuhhgk…ih--iHK’SSSCH’UH!”
"Bless you," she says, "I guess that’s my fault. Sorry, I didn’t think you would sneeze just from touching it."
"I'm sorry, that was… a wet ode, did I get you?
"It’s okay, I have been sneezed on before, and from the looks of your nose, I doubt that will be the last time today. You look cold, and you keep shivering."
He sniffles back congestion, a wet gurgle sound. "Yeah, can’t seem to get warm."
She takes off her uniform jacket and drapes it over his shaking form. "This doesn’t offer much warmth, but it’s something for now."
He laughs for the first time since being in the office, a deep rattling laugh that shakes her to her core, causing her heart to quicken. She could listen to that laugh for hours.
"You’re practically asking to get this cold, not exactly the picture of health, Penelope."
She blushes before turning her back slightly to him and packing up her supplies. “Well, you look perfect to me.”
Odysseus blushed hard and a dopy smile appeared on his face. Once her supplies were packed up she told him to sit tight and she’d be back with the results in a bit. She left Odysseus to his own device, which was just giving him time to rest and get a few sneezes out that he was sure everyone could hear by now.
A few minutes later, Penelope comes back to tell him he has the flu and prescribes him some medicine, casually writing her number on the bottle, telling him to call her if things get worse, before sending him on his way.
*****TIME SKIP
A few days passed, and no words came from him. Of course, her mind wandered. He must just be resting, like I told him she thinks to herself. Her answer came in the most unlikely of places. She was charting before the clinic opened when there was a tapping at the glass. An officer stands in full uniform, peaking in the windows. She sighs, gets up, and opens the door.
“You know Hermes, there are easier ways to get someone's attention, like Oh, I don’t know, texting them! You love to brag about your 5 G phone so much.”
The blonde replied. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, just here to tell you ody has requested you.”
Her face blushes as Hermes continues, “Yeah, the poor guys got like the worst cold I have ever seen, I'm sure the barracks can’t survive another one of his sneezing fits. He keeps muttering about. I need Penelope; I need her.”
She runs inside and grabs her “in case of emergency bag” and practically falls over herself, leaving the office. She grabs his arms and pulls him to her level. “Take me to him now.”
“Geez, calm down, I'll take you.” They leave together, her mind racing. After what seems like eternity, they turn and see the barracks. He points to one near the end. “He is there. Good luck.”
She opens the sliding door, and a wave of heat hits her. These were always so bad at circulating temperature, they practically bake in the sun. A string of beds sits in front of her standard military sheets and pillows neatly folded. In the middle was where her eyes were trained. Ody sat upright. His head was in his hands. She approached, her heels echoing on the concrete floor. He looked up, and it took everything not to rush to his side.
Their skin is pale, with a slightly flushed tint around their cheeks and nose from the constant battle. Dark circles settle under their eyes like bruises of fatigue, deepened by restless, fevered sleep. Their lips are dry, parted slightly as they breathe heavily through their mouth because their nose is completely blocked. Suddenly his brows knit together in irritation as a new he begins to hitch. Their expression is one of helpless misery. He grabs the blanket and holds it to his face as he begins to sneeze.
Penelope grabbed onto a bunk bed just out of instinct at the booming sound that echoed around her. It sounded like a bomb had gone off. He looked up at her. His nose was cascading like a waterfall of syrup down to his chin, a mess reflecting off the edges of his teardrop-shaped nostrils in a glimmering line.
“Bless you, I'm surprised the barracks are still standing.”
“snnrk Sor'y—didn’ mean do you know, thad’s just how I sdeeze, wai’d, wha're you doin' here?”
He asks in a stuffy voice. She walks over and pulls up a chair, placing her bag in her lap. She reaches out and pushes his hair out of his face. His fever has gone down, she mentally notes.
“Well, a little birdie told me someone was calling my name, and so here I am to rescue my soldier.”
“snfff Oh god, did Hermes tell you thad?” He blushes and clears his throat before continuing, “I’b nod your soldier—it was jusd a nighdmare.”
“No matter what the reason, I am here now to take care of you. You have my whole undivided attention.”
“You… you sure you wand do be aroun' me? I’b nod the besd comp’ny righd now snnrf—I’b all stuffed ub, and by dose—ugh oh no not abain.”
His breath starts to waver, and this is where her resolve fades. The discomfort that crosses his face makes the butterflies in her stomach increase tenfold, and without thinking, she finds herself crawling into his bed holding him to her chest.
“My Odysseus! You poor thing, I got you.” She takes a clean handkerchief from her bag and holds it ready, cupping it over his glistening and flaring nostrils.
The strong sneezes force the gunk that had accumulated in his sinuses out, covering the handkerchief in mess, the rest escaping into the air. He’s left with twin trails of clear liquid coating his upper lip as he shivers.
“Sorry … thad was a lod.”
“Bless you, I don’t care, love, I love you. Through all the sniffs and sneezes, I love you.”
He blushes and blinks at her sniffling. “You do?”
She swore she could shake him. “Yes, love, hell, I left my post for you. I would leave everything. I will wait for 20 years for you. My love for you is internal!
He doesn’t say anything but pulls her and kisses her. After a few moments, he pulls back. “I love you too, through sickness and in health
She laughs. “Slow down, soldier, not marrying you …. yet.” She cuddles next to him and, for the first time in a while, she relaxes, and soon they both fall into slumber
I have no explanation other then the fact I have had the hots for Poseidon for a few days now and i had to write something.
so yeah! CW mess, contagion, mess stuff (really leaning into the messfucker in me)
sorry the ending is rushed i ran out of energy to write
The waves, he was always proud of them. The way they crested before they fell. The absolute beauty of the sea to most mortals is a thing of passing beauty, but to Poseidon, it’s his whole life. He spent his entire life devoted to the sea, so why in this moment was it trying to kill him?
As he neared the ragged granite cliffs formed many years ago by volcanic eruptions, rough and jagged to the touch, the more he dreaded the world above. Many of his brothers and sisters made fun of him for this fact for years, but there’s something so surreal and comforting about the sea. So when he paused, just a few inches below the surface, he took a deep breath and plunged forward, knowing the misery which would befall him.
The gravity is what hit him first, the agonizing pull down to the watery depths to which he had arrived. Next is the feeling of water running, but I wasn’t water. He realized after a moment that his nose was dripping and his muscles ached. He gripped onto the rough edge of the volcanic structure in front of him, dragging and scraping himself as he slowly pushed himself onto it. He felt utterly weak in the state, and while he would vow to never speak those words out loud, the fact did cross his mind, ‘He may be sick.’
The rock was warm due to the sun heating it for many hours. After a while, he reached his resting position. One arm prompted up, holding his aching head. His hair slung down behind his back, the ends floating on the sea’s surface, slowly getting movement with the tide. A few strings clung to his forehead and cascaded down over his eyes.
He felt a small tickle beginning in his head. He leans his head against the rock, his eyes beginning to reflexively close. His relentless drippy nose causes him to sniffle, a wet and very liquid sound. His nose is red, and from the looks of it, twitching, the increasing need to sneeze is becoming very immediate. His breathing starts becoming shaky and the waves begin to lap against him in a quickening fashion.
He coughs lightly, but that just causes him to draw more breath. His nostrils flare, and mess begins to drip out onto the rocks below him. At the last second, he attempts to poorly cover with his hand.
The tail end of the release is a wet, gurgly drop of mucus bursting and spraying into the air and landing upon the rocks in a thick mist. Mess decorates his face and is dripping freely onto his chest, causing a shine.
The waves have picked up around him, and the nearby docked boats sway with the surge of water. He sniffles wetly, thanking no one saw that before he hears a small voice.
“Ummm, bless you?”
The force he whips around causes another surge of water and almost capsizes the small raft, only a few feet away from his mess of hair.
The design is very simple. Logs arranged side by side and secured with crossbeams for stability. A mast is in the middle. A few baskets and nets are arranged and scattered about, and a mortal is staring up at him.
It takes everything in his power not the smash the raft right then and there, he sniffs wetly, the sound deafening to him.
“Mortal, I have killed for less. You should be careful when addressing a god.” As powerful as he tries to sound, the effect seems to be lost as his voice cracks.
The mortal who has been clenching the mast for stability as the waves are lapping replies.
“I do not think you are in any place to say, oh mighty Poseidon.”
He retorts. “Funny, you seem to know my name, but I do not recall yours?”
She laughs at him, “I wasn't born yesterday, I know you never give a god your name, but I guess if I survive the next few minutes, I will spend my life trying to convince others this was real, so what is the harm. My name is Lysandra and this is my fishing boat.”
He feels his ears redden and he sniffs back as mess threatens to run, another tickle quickly forming in his swollen nose.
“Well Lysandra.” He pauses to sniff. “As I am not a fish, I suggest you move on”. He goes to continue, but his breath catches in his throat. He turns his head, sniffling more urgently as the tickle becomes stronger with every inhale. The tides begin to pull back, and the raft she is on gets dragged closer to his torso. To add insult to injury, the mortal jumps into the water and paddles a bit to reach a rock formation and hoists herself onto it.
“I think I might be safer out of the water, didn’t know every storm was caused when you sneeze.”
He glares at her but only for a second before more wet sneezes burst through him.
Spray is shot from his nose, leaving tendrils of snot on the rocks in front of him. The spray from the string of sneezes coats the rock and glints in the morning light. He feels the shift of congestion in his head as he sniffs back. His head is full of cold, and if he doesn’t blow his nose soon, this could get bad.
The waves as a result of the fit are chaotic. They rise with a swelling force, curling at their peaks before plunging downward in a thunderous collision with the rocks. The impact sends plumes of white foam and mist into the air, the sound deep and resonant. The raft the mortal has so wisely abandoned was now nothing but a few stray log as it had been thrown onto the jagged rocks. The mast half sticking out of the water, the sail flapping in the wind.
He sighed and attempted to wipe at the mess hanging from his nose when a noise startled him and caused him to jump.
“My raft you dick!!”
The mortal Lysandra cried out, looking upon the damage with shocked eyes! “That is my whole life and you just destroyed it to pieces with a fucking sneeze. Are you kidding me?!”
Poseidon was shocked, most mortals, especially ones whose livelihood he controlled, were typically nice and devoted, but this one spoke in such a disrespectful tone, it was borderline mean. He raised his hand to silence her, but she continued
“And I know what you are going to say, ‘I am a god, I can do what I like’. That doesn't mean you can destroy someone else's property. I don't care that you have a cold.”
He felt rage building in his chest and the sky grew dark as storm clouds began to fill the area. He rose slightly out of the water. Even half out of the water, he was 10 feet taller than this mortal.
His voice boomed out, “Enough!!” he continued when the young woman shook and clutched onto the rock. “You do not speak to me that way. I will do what I like, and I do not have a cold.” The threat was lessened when he sniffled a wet, gurgle sound.
The woman replied, a little shaken but still with an air of cockiness. “Oh yeah? I can see your nose twitching from here, and I am sure that rock didn't have a shine to it a moment ago, at least cover your mouth when you sneeze.”
“Mortal..choose-”
“My name is Lysandra.” She huffed.
“Mortal, I do not have a–” his nose chose that moment to betray him. His breathing began to hitch, and mess began to leak out. Coating is upper lip and dripping down his chin.
“Fucks sake, cover you nose. You have a cold, and from the looks of it, a bad one. I would like to make it home alive.”
His breath came in short, harsh puffs of air. His nose was leaking onto his chin, and yet he still denied it. “Hhhuhh… hhhuhh… No, no, I’bm fibe.” he said, hitching.
"Uh-huh. That’s exactly what someone who isn’t fine would say."
His voice wobbles as he fights the inevitable. "I swear—huhhh… I don’t —hiyY’ESSCHHIUE-!!....hhzZZSCHHIOOO!!! Snnrgk! I’b fide. I do not deed a tisshu.”
She throws up her hands in exasperation. “Oh, good lord, you are useless.” She climbs down off her rock and carefully makes her way over to the broken raft she once called home. And began untieing the hemp ropes. Once the knots were untied, she took a few steps back and yelled out to the god. “Just use the sail as a tissue, not like I'm going to get much use out of it now.”
Poseidon felt his whole life end. How could a mortal expect a god to do something so undignified as use a sail of a boat to blow his nose? She was insane, she must be!!
He replied his voice thick with congestion. “Ib nod as bad as id soubds. I do nod need to sddee—hhuhh…Hhuhh…hhuhh… see? Nod hapbening."
But she was resilient, “I swear if you don't, I will climb up there and kick you in your nose!”
Poseidon was scared of very, very few things, but this sent a wave of fear crashing through him like the waves that lapped at his side. He felt weak, but in this moment, he had no choice. He reached down, picking up the fabric as the sneeze built. At the last second, he buried his nose in the waiting fabric.
The sneeze ripped through him. The congestion spilled out of him into the awaiting fabric. He rubbed at his aching, wet nostrils vigorously and blew a huge, squelching blow into the knit fibers, soaking the sail in thick sticky snot. He sniffed wetly and began lowering himself to be eye level with the mortal.
His face was an absolute mess. His nose was all red and dripping, leaving wet marks on the rocks. His face was flushed from embarrassment, he let a mortal see him in such a state. His voice when he spoke was thick with congestion and rough-sounding.
“You will tell no one what you saw today.”
She had to laugh. “First of bless you, and second, I am sure no one will believe me if I tell them, and third, I think you might want to go lie down, that cold does not sound done with you yet.”
Before he sank completely away from view, he muttered a quiet thank you and disappeared between the waves.
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so ummm I love all the ideas in @dr-ground-zero epic snz sever. So I had to contribute in some way. So I made a Her/mes and C/irce fic!
CW: contagion, small description of mess and seduction mention
This is my first fic in a while I hope y'all enjoy
(Do NOT reblog to non-kink blogs, THANKS!!!!)
Hermes could do this; it was just a simple delivery, right? It doesn’t matter that his throat burned, and his eyes were running. He was a god. As he approached Circe’s Island he felt the familiar tickle and sighed deeply. Hermes, among many things, was known for his fast delivery skills. But his sneezes were the opposite. They tended to take a while leaving him in a vulnerable and weakened state. As he hovered in the air near the cliffs, he could hear the crashing waves below and the ocean breeze on his face. The salt air was not doing him any favors and after what felt like an eternity his breath hitched, and he bent forward sneezing into the open air.
“-hHIH-! -eh’IDSSHH’HOO!!”
The package almost slipped from his hands, but he quickly regained his composure and sniffed a wet and sickly sound before pressing onward. Circe's island was always so beautiful, the trees that allowed sunlight to cascade through, the jungle vines that entangled the forest floor. On any other day, Hermes would have stopped to figuratively smell the flowers but right now all he wanted to do was get back home and nurse the cold he had caught.
As he approached the castle and sniffed he vowed he would not show Circe any weakness. The goddess was known for playing with her food and the two of them had a complicated relationship. He was not up to playing any of her games today. As he crossed the threshold of the palace, the white marble floors and columns loomed over him. He marveled at them before trying to discreetly wipe his nose with his hand.
“Well looks like a little birdie got lost, I wasn’t expecting you for another week. Aw did someone miss me already?” A voice filled the room and Hermes quickly spun around before having to grab onto a column to steady himself.
The voice continued. “Falling for me so soon?” Circe stepped out from the shadows. Even by Goddess standards she was beautiful with long, golden flowing hair, which seemed to shimmer with an almost magical light. Hermes recovered quickly.
“Fall for you, ha sorry your Majesty” he bowed mockingly “Not today love just a delivery” he sniffed as the shift of his head made his nose run.
She studied him, her eyes piercing and powerful. “Darling is something the matter?” Hermes could not tell if the tone was concern or just wanted something to play with.
“I’m fine,” he said with a huff and sniff. His heart sank when she stepped closer to him. Her elegant robes flowed behind her. He turned and put the package down quickly trying to leave before the situation escalated since his nose was starting to itch.
“Well, I will just mar-" his breath caught in his throat, and he quickly cleared it. “Mark it as delivered and be-”. He paused as the tickle increased and his nose flared.
Circe, who was always so observant, took notice of his erratic breathing and smiled. Her voice was soft but hiding a hit of playfulness “Did someone catch a cold”? Hermes, who was actively hitching shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes.
“Hehh-huhh! Ah… hiiih—! -Snf-no I’m fine”.
“Darling you do not look nor sound fine.” She slowly walks over to the struggling God. “Come here like me take all your pain away” she whispered in his ear. The seduction in her voice caused Hermes to shudder and his breath caught for another reason.
She slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head on his shoulder. He would be flustered if he didn’t need to sneeze so bad.
“W-wait, give me a sehhh- I really need to… hih! Hah-! Ugh, snff”. He was left in limbo; The tickle was so overpowering, but his nose refused to let him sneeze. His eyes watered and his nose threatened to run.
She sighed and traced a finger down his nose and the effect was immediate. He bent forward spraying the marble floor and the sound echoed off the chamber they were in.
He wished Zeus would strike him now dead instead. He activated his sandals and started to hover. “Do not bring my father into this, just let me go.” He hovered a few more inches but soon found a hand gripping his ankle holding him in the sky.
“Oh no, you are not going to fly away this time. Where would you go? Back to that drafty home of yours and catch your death. I don't think so darling. When you could stay here, and I can keep you warm.”
She pulled him down and gripped his waist pulling him closer to her. He was surprised at how easy it was for her to do so. While he wasn’t the strongest god he still was relatively built. The thought of am ‘I this weak’ crossed his mind before another issue plagued him. He needed to sneeze again.
He tried pushing her away, but the effort was futile. The goddess had wrapped herself around him holding him to her chest. “Oh, come now don’t struggle it will be more fun this way,” she said with a small laugh. Hermes really didn’t have a choice. He felt too weak to fight and his nose was flaring.
“h-HH-!.. eh’DJZZSSH’YOO!!”
He sneezed openly, freely, powerfully, all over Circe's neck and chest. He flushed so violently, he feared he might faint. He sucked in another shaky breath and let another go with the same trajectory as the first.
“hhHH!..’DZZSSH’-!!”
Circe holds him close. “.. Bl–”
“-hHIH-!” Hermes rocked against her with another, completely unprecedented, “eh’IDSSHH’HOO!”. His next gasp was deep, and he ducked his head down to sneeze wetly on her breasts.
“HEH’JZZSSSSHOOO!!”
“Bless you, didn’t Zeus teach you to cover your nose when you sneeze?”
“No,” he said sniffling weakly trying to not look at the mess he had left on her chest and dress. “He was more of a hand-off kind of parent style.”
“Well don’t worry I have lots of practice with complainers who do not know how to look after themselves you'll be safe here.”
“Why does that not make me feel better.” He said with a sheepish smile.
She kisses him softly on the nose and he recoils and sneezes harshly to the side.
“HEH’JZZSSSSHOOO! Eh…heh…. HEH’JZZSSSSHOOO!..... h-HH-!.. eh’DJZZSSH’YOO ugh don’t do that again temptress!!”
“Very well” she smiled and carried him off to bed.
@dr-ground-zero modern Au lives in my head rent free so I made a continuation of first Christmas
It is shorter because no brain cell to write
But enjoy
CW: mess, contagion, snz
“Theo?? Theo?! Where are you?”
Telemachus says, looking at the empty bed. ‘Where could he have gone? He is still nursing the bad cold he had gotten.’ He thinks to himself. Telemachus goes downstairs looking for him.
“Theo, where did you go?” He walks by the front window and sees the unthinkable. Theo is outside playing in the snow! Telemachus almost rips the door off its hinges and runs outside.
“Theoclymenus what are you doing? Get back inside!”
“But I am feeling better, really, and the snow is so fluffy and-” His breath starts to catch.
Seizing this moment, Telemachus grabs the other's arm and pulls him back toward the door. “And you are going to catch pneumonia if you stay out here!” Theo sniffs a wet sound and follows him inside, shivering slightly.
“Okay, you need to warm up now. I’m going to start a warm bath.” Theo nods and follows him to the bathroom. Telemachus turns on the bath to the hottest temperature, and slowly the tub begins to fill.
“This isn’t necessary, I’m not that…Huhh’SCHhhtt’hhuww! Huhh hehh Huhh’SCHhhtt’hhuww!….cold.”
“Bless you! You may not feel cold, but you have a bad one; besides, a warm soak should help your congestion. Now get undressed.”
Blushing, Theo does as he says, the congestion shifting in his head as he bends down and he sniffs urgently. The tub finishes filling up, Telemachus adds a few drops of soap and helps his shivering boyfriend get in. He takes off his shirt but leaves his bottoms on and sits in the tub holding him. The water envelops them like a warm blanket, and Theo soon rests his head on Telemachus' chest. The only sound is Theo labored breathing and sniffles every few seconds.
“Baby, what were you thinking?” He finally asks after a few minutes.His voice as an aura of concern but still comforting. Theo nuzzles into his chest before replying.
“I wanted to see the snow.”
“You can see snow from inside; you don’t need to go touch it.” He says rubbing his back in a comforting way/
“I know, I know, it was stupid, but—h-hh—heh'tSCHHuh!—but it was so pretty and I—I wanted to...” His breathing begins to waver.
Telemachus adjusts his grip, holding onto him tightly. “I got you, hun, come on, let them out.”
“Heeehh…heh… ha’ERRSSHH’IUE! iiiIHH’GGZSSCHOO!..oohhh, uhduther-..AAHHDZZSCHOO!!....HIIH!.. IIHTDZZSSSHHHTT!! .. fuck– snrkk. I don’t wadda be sigg anymore.”
“Goodness, those were so big, weren’t they? You okay? I have never heard you sneeze like that before.” He ignores the mess that was sprayed onto his chest and ops to squeeze his boyfriend tighter.
“Yeah, I’b okay… my dose just… snrrrk… really full. I dink you’re right, I—I don’t dink I have sneezed this buch in my whole life.”
“It's okay, I am here to catch those sneezes and cuddle you and make soup. I am going to make sure you get the TLC you deserve.”
Theo blushed and rubbed his nose. “If you keep kiss—kissi—hhhuhh'NGKTchh!—me, you’re goihg to catch this.”
“Well, the fastest way to get rid of a cold is to give it to someone else.” He said smirking a slight blush creeping on his face.
“think your—snrrrk—your mom would disagree… she is a nurse, after all... hhhUHh—oh no—hehh’GNTCHHHuh!...not agaid…” his body goes stiff, and he grips Telemachus tighter.
“Oh boy, I got you! Come on get that cold out of your head.”
“I—I’b tryihg, it’s… it’s teasi—hh-HHHuhhh…” Telemacus can see theos nose. It is flaring. The poor thing looks so red and itchy. He leans down and kisses his twitching nose. That seemed to do the trick and Theo gasped and sneezed against Telemachus chest.
“h-hh-hh.. HAH-TZSS!sss’uhh…hah!hh.. uHH!h.....tHih-.. HIHBISSSH’YAHhh! IIH’TIZZSCH’iu!!...HHHH!.. EHJZZSSHUE!!’hhhooohh by god.”
Each sneeze, more and more spray and mess land and stick onto his chest. Telemachus has to bite back a moan as the fit continues, but slowly the fit starts to taper off.
“Bless you, goodness, your poor nose!!! He grabs a towel from the rack and holds it to Theo’s nose. “Blow baby, get that cold out of your head.”
He blows into the towel his boyfriend is holding to his nose. That forces the mess that had accumulated in his sinuses out, covering the towel in mess, some dripping into Telemachus hand. As he pulls the towel away he is left with twin trails of clear liquid coating his upper lip.
As soon as he finishes, the rough fabric of the towel causes a new tickle to form, and he tries to warn Telemachus.
“B–baby... the towel is makin’ me... itchy...” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, then lifts his head with a helpless expression, flaring and dripping onto his chin. “I’m gonna... hhuhh… I’m gonna sn...sneeeze—huhh’tSCHHhhuhh!”
“Oh, okay, I got you, just sneeze, get the messy cold out of your nose.”
haAH’SSCHHhieww!! hsndrff! ….huUH’USSCHhiuu!! sdrff. He pauses but still has a wrinkled look on his face. Telemachus takes the hint. “Aw you got more?”
Theo nods breathlessly, opening one of his eyes as he pleads with him to help. He chuckles and presses another kiss to his nose.
“Oh, come on… It’s right there... I just... wait—hhuhhh… I’m gonna…Hihh…Hhh’kssSHHhh! HhHuuh..Huhh’tCHSHhh! Eiihh…eiihH’tCHSHhhuu!!”
”Bless you!” Telemachus catches the fit in his hands, blushing. Theo slumps against him, exhausted and sniffs pathetically. Finally the fit had subsided for the time being, Telemachus rubbed his shoulder soothingly and kissed the top of his head. Theo panted softly as he curled up into Telemachus’s side with a worn out expression. Telemachus’s eyes softened as he gently coaxed him to sleep.
“Mb’kay I’ll sleep’b” Theo muttered, he’d sure need it after all of that, he was hardly anywhere near getting over that cold
This started a idea of Tel/emachus trying to battle while sick, and then I just ran with it. And 6.5k words later here we are!
this is a snz fic read at your own discretion
this is 5 chapter so it is broken up! enjoy!!
(also if you do not know theo/clymenus (Theo) is a seer in the odyssey so a lot of people have hc that he is in a relationship with Telemachus)
(Do NOT reblog to non-kink blogs, THANKS!!!!)
Chapter 1
Telemachus’ only thoughts during this moment were why? He stood in line with the other competitors waiting to get prepped for the arena.
‘This was part of the tradition of the games’ Telemachus thought to himself as he saw his spot in line get closer to the changing rooms. He could smell the oil from outside the room.
‘The scent is pleasant enough. A combination of floral scents and there was something else, maybe pine or fir.’ He thinks as he takes another step closer to the curtain.
Telemachus heard a voice call from behind the curtain. He stepped forward a lump in his throat as he pulled the curtain back. The small room was lit by the open windows. There were multiple vases on a table, covered in a fine red tablecloth, but more importantly, he saw the barrel of dust.
He looked for the sound of the voice but could see no one. It was at this moment he felt her by her side.
“Athena.” He whispered.
Athena smiled. Just like his father Telemachus could always sense her presence. She smiled and spoke her voice, melodious and comforting.
“It is finally time. All the training we have been doing is for you. For you to be my champion; to win my games! They will sing your names for years to come. Telemachus prove yourself here and now surrounded by enemies and foes that you are my champion.”
He blushed. She had always been righteous, so focused on his perfection that sometimes she forgot his humanity. As she gathered the oil, she noticed the frown and concern on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Telemachus, not wanting to tell her the truth, lied.
“I don’t want to let you down. You spent so much time and energy training me to be this champion and what if I let you down; what if I lose?”
Athena moved to his side placing a hand on his shoulder. He always had these kinds of thoughts before any big challenge but eventually would pull through.
She spoke. “You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you practicing day and night. You are strong. You’re healthy.”
It was at this moment that Telemachus's body decided to betray him as he felt an itch in the back of his nose. Athena continued to sing his praises he silently hitched trying not to ruin this moment. The sawdust in the air made him feel like he was choking. Every breath he took was igniting the tickle in his nose. As Athena finished her speech and looked down to see her champion, he bent at the waist and sneezed loudly enough to even startle her.
“Ahh’TTSChh’hIIEWW!!”
“Bless you.” She spoke. She had become accustomed to this. Telemachus was not weak in any sense of the word, but he did have a fragile humanity about himself. After a while, Athena had to start carrying tissues and handkerchiefs to target practice with the number of times he sneezed from the hay.
And if he was sick, she had to take him home multiple times over the years. So sneezing wasn’t anything new but as she looked around the room, she didn’t see anything that would cause this. She held him near her, placing her hand on his forehead testing to see if it was warm.
“You’re not getting sick? Because you know how I feel about you working when you were sick?” Her voice took on a stern but parental nature.
“No.” He said as he slowly rose his nose dripping. He pointed over to the barrel. “I think it’s the sawdust that must’ve gotten in my nose.”
She sighed. “Telemachus, I haven’t even begun to cover you yet if you’re reacting like this, just from being near it, how are you going to-”
He put a hand up to stop her. “I am your champion. I can handle a little dust.”
She rolled her eyes and thought in her head. ‘Well, these games certainly got more interesting.’
He recovered sniffing wetly as he approached the table with the oil. He grabbed the oil and slowly started applying it carefully trying not to stain his armor. It felt nice, but he had always questioned this part of the games.
“Why do we do this? I mean wouldn’t it be more effective if we just were wearing armor or helmets while,” he pauses, and his breath began to hitch. “Why do we do this?” He sneezed, harshly again.
“Ahh’TSCHhh’HIHh’uh!”
“Bless you. We do this to protect yourself. While your armor protects your most vital organs. The sun can damage you.” She continued. “It also protects against rashes and burns.”
He rubbed his nose on his wrist before continuing.
“I don’t think covering oneself in oil-” he paused as he hitched, but soon his breath went back to normal, and he sniffed. “And using brick dust and sawdust is a good measure to combat the sun.”
“Well, when you come up with a better idea, be sure to bring it to the god's attention. I’m sure Helios would love to have a chat with you.”
He sniffed urgently and his gaze started to become unfocused. She had seen this look on him multiple times throughout their years of training and fighting together. She walked over, grabbing the discarded handkerchief, that he had just thrown on the ground, quickly covering his nose as his breath came to a crescendo.
“Hut’SCHH’ihh! n’TSHCHH’hihehh! TScHHZHHHtT!!”
She caught the sneezes in the handkerchief and instructed him to blow his nose. She found that that seemed to be the only thing to calm his fits. Otherwise, he’ll be sneezing for hours.
He always blushed every time Athena took care of him like a little kid. He wanted to prove himself to her. Not be treated like a small child. Hell, he was old enough to go to war and fight in these games. He was old enough to blow his damn nose. Even so, a small part of him enjoyed that she was always there to take care of him.
He smiled. “Thank you, Athena. We should probably get this going, the sooner it’s over the better.”
She nodded. “I’ll try not to get your face.” She grabbed the bucket sawdust spilling over the sides onto the ground, creating a small plume of dust that sifted into the air.
Telemachus took a deep breath and held it waiting for this to be over. She slowly applied the dust covering to his arms, then his chest, and lastly his back. She thought to herself ‘he’s doing a pretty good job holding his breath. He might survive this.’
Reassurance failed when he exhaled and took a deep breath. Immediately she knew this wasn’t going to end well. His body became rigid, tears sprung to his eyes and his nose twitched. He brought a hand up to rub at it, but she smacked it away.
“Don’t think about it. Your hand is covered in dust. You need to wait for it to dry before you can touch your face.”
He nodded, unable to form words for fear, and once he opened his mouth he would start sneezing. His nose began to run, as well as his eyes, tears streaming down his face. He opened one eye cautiously before immediately sucking in a deep breath and bending forward at the waist, harshly sneezing.
“Huh… TZSCHHH’ihh!”
Athena was going to bless him, but another deep inhale made her wait. He sneezed harshly again his whole body being thrown forward. He took a few steps and caught himself on the table in the room. He leaned on it, panting, his nose dripping, causing small droplets to fall on the oak table.
She went to the other side of the table, lifting his chin with her hand and surveying the damage. His nose was an absolute mess, dripping onto his upper lip. His eyes streaming. The worst part was he didn’t look like he was done. His face contorted and he scrunched up his nose, trying to scratch, at the itch that wouldn’t go away.
She pressed the handkerchief to his nose and waited. Not before long his breath became erratic, and he sneezed wetly, destroying the handkerchief within three sneezes.
She wiped his nose gently for him as he slowly began to regain his breath. She waited a moment before speaking.
“Is it safe now to bless you?” she asked.
He replied, his voice was thick with congestion. “I think so. I don’t know if my nose could take anymore.”
“I’m surprised you’re still standing after that display. I would’ve wanted to sit down.” He looks at her. His eyes were red around the edges and his mouth parted, indicating he couldn’t breathe through his nose. “I don’t have time to sit if you have forgotten I must prepare for combat.”
Suddenly images crossed her mind. The arena field, sounds of metal clashing, splitting of wood, and a scream. Red flashed in her mind. She felt her heart quicken, and she looked down at Telemachus.
“Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw? There is always next year. No one would be mad if you did... I can’t see you get hurt.” She stammered.
Telemachus straightened and sniffed deeply. “I can prove myself here and now Athena. I will prove to everyone I am not weak. I am strong. I can be your champion.” Before she could say another word. He threw his cape around his shoulders and turned and fled through the curtains.
Athena could only pray that he would survive.
Chapter 2
Telemachus heart pounded in his chest, matching the beating of the drums. He held his sword in his hand and his shield strapped to his other arm. He slowly approached the entry to the arena. The wooden door that separated the hallway to the outside world was all that stood between him and his destiny. The horns blared and Telemachus swung the door open and stepped out into the arena.
As his eyes adjusted to the sun he surveyed the landscape around him. A simple baren patch of earth with various obstacles in the way. A few barrels, one overturned cart.
‘A good place to get a height advantage’ he thought to himself. Then Telemachus saw something that made his heart sink. Bales of hay neatly stacked. Now being in a farming village, he was no stranger to hay. It was a wildly used material. Both as food and for building.
However, Telemachus was not a fan of it. From a young age when he interacted with hay he found himself with itchy eyes and his nose would run. As he matured he made a point of avoiding the substance all together. But since it was wildly used in construction that was not always possible.
He stepped into the stadium with his footsteps silenced by the roar of the crowd. His eyes locked on the other side. His opponent was tall and muscular. His hair was black and slicked back into a ponytail. He branded a sword and shield and moved to his place in the center.
One shared look. That was all it took to know he was wildly outmatched. The crowd chanted around them. ‘Nikoloas’. The name of his opponent. Telemachus shut out the distraction of the crowd, and the world contracted to one twenty-five-foot circle and one cloakless man with a sword two sword-lengths away from him.
He dropped into a light crouch and stood motionless, just waiting. His sword was still. Every movement, every breath and shift and toss of wind about Nikolaos became a thing to watch, an indication of where the next attack would come, where his next attack should strike. Where his target was going be in the next instant of battle.
Only the tiny part of the world they inhabited at this moment mattered.
Nikolaos was pacing, his sword already in restless motion, in stark contrast to him as he traced roving loops with the point and entirely ignored the noise and people around them in order to focus solely upon him.
They had already agreed there would be no rituals, no salutes or gestures before they started--battle began when one of them chose to attack, which allowed for the unpredictability of combat. It could begin now, or after five minutes of feints, or in the middle of conversation, if one of them decided to start talking at some point. Which would have been an enticing option, if it weren't for the fact that Telemachus nose was threatening to run.
Nikolaos stepped forward, blade swinging in a mock offense, an experimental probe into motion. Telemachus launched straight into the attack. Left, right--he twisted away, jumped back, closed in for the attack again and then reversed once more. Simply avoiding Nikolaos's quick parry, he slipped in on his other side for a feint, and as he dodged the attack and responded he took his downswing on his angled blade, sending it skidding away. Amidst wild shouting from the onlookers, they both backed off, breathless and scowling grimly at each other.
First engagement, first flurry of blows, and both had played it relatively safe. This fight would go on until one of them scored a disabling blow--at this rate, it would last until sundown. Someone yelled a comment to this effect, and neither of them acknowledged it, although Telemachus grimaced fully at Nikolaos. He intended to win this fight if it took him until sundown. Nikolaos swung his sword in a small flourish opposite him.
Nikolaos prowled sideways and attacked, pounding at his guards. Telemachus warded him off with tight defenses, went on the counter-offensive the moment he had an opening, then disengaged and backed off. He was shifting around him, forwards and backwards and sideways, always in motion, his sword weaving in a near-random pattern and his shifting gaze scanning for openings as he turned in place to match his orbit.
The moving sword was a distraction and a deflection tactic nearly useless in pitched battle, but excellent for masking intentions in single-combat. It could even be slightly hypnotizing on occasion. The reverse tactic, of course, was simply to wait, poised, sword angled in a basic defense position, and remain as motionless and ready as possible, and that was what Telemachus had chosen to do.
It was more difficult; the energy and adrenaline generated during battle ensured that standing still was the last thing anyone wanted to do, but it could also be subtle, confusing, and frankly vicious when one did finally explode into action. The attack could come from anywhere, and there could be a lethal amount of backed-up energy in play. Enough energy, actually, to make anyone careless...no doubt Nikolaos, who knew that as well as he did, was already expecting him to overexert himself in the next attack.
Telemachus transitioned into a spring as he swung his sword back around for a waist-level attack, and now they were so close together they were beyond effective sword-blade range. His weapon caught Nikolaos's on the hilt as they closed to within arm's reach.
And clearly they both wanted the other down more than they were worried about going down themselves.
Nikolaos slid his sword down from his hilt, aiming at Telemachus legs. He lunged sideways to avoid it. He drove forward. In the resulting tangle, Nikolaos's sword drove into his left leg, and he trapped his sword hand between his side and his arm, wrenching it in sideways and hacking at his neck. He ducked and rolled into him before he could land a good blow, sending them both to the ground into the hay.
Telemachus rose quickly from the ground trying to brush off the hay that was stuck to him. As he did so Nikolaos attacked. Telemachus barely had time to bring his shield arm up to defend. The blow was strong, and Telemachus bent at the knees. His eyes had become a watery mess and soon he knew he would not be able to see at all. But in the moments before blindness, he did see an opportunity. He gathered all the strength his legs would allow and stood up. Knocking Nikolaos out of the way and swinging his sword around he felt the impact hit and the cry of his opponent. Horned blared and Telemachus sighed before inhaling and bending at the waist.
He dropped the sword and blindly fumbled with the straps of the shield before he felt arms around him. His adrenaline spiked and he resisted. A familiar voice catches his ear over the sound of his own heartbeat and crowd.
“Relax its just me!”
Theoclymenus. Theo was here! Telemachus strained his neck to try to see him, but the effort was futile. The combat had left him drained. He barely had any energy at all. Which is why he wasn’t surprised when he sneezed harshly and didn’t cover.
He felt his partner laugh, a comforting sound before he was set down on a hard surface. He ran his hands over the material. It appeared to be wooden. He tried to rub his eyes, but it just made them water more. He whined as his breath began to hitch again. Could this day get any worse he thought to himself.
A moment later he found out it could. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bucket of ice-cold water poured over his head. The shock is instantaneous. Telemachus body tenses up, and a gasp escapes his lips as the freezing water hits his skin. It's a jolt to his body—like an electrifying wake-up call that sent shivers down his spine. His heart races, and for a moment, it's all he could think about.
He sat there shivering but managed to open his eyes. It took a minute for the surrounding area not to be blurry, but he saw he was in some kind of alcove. There were all types of supplies and weapons. He decided this was a chamber for extra supplies for the games. He went to speak but was immediately hit with another bucket of water pouring over himself. He coughed and spat out some water. Shivering as the cold seeped into his bones.
“Theo what in the five rivers of hell are you doing!”
“Trying to not have my boyfriend asphyxiate because he touched a single stalk of hay!”
Telemachus tried to retort back but the exhaustion from the fight and everything caught up to him in a moment and he put his head in his hands and within moments darkness overtook him.
Chapter 3
The first thing Telemachus feels when he regains his consciousness is pain. Everything hurt. Telemachus winced as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his side. His body ached with the memory of the battle fought just hours before. Every muscle protested as he tried to sit up, the bruises and cuts a cruel reminder of the fierce clash.
He took a deep breath, feeling the sting of his injuries with every inhale. The scent of blood and sweat still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the herbs used to dress his wounds. Telemachus hand instinctively went to his side, fingers brushing against the rough bandages that bound his ribs. He could still hear the echoes of clashing swords and the roar of the crowd in his mind.
With a groan, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the cold, unforgiving floor. The room was silent now, a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena. He glanced around, taking in the sight of his armor, dented and bloodstained, lying in a heap in the corner.
Telemachus knew he couldn't afford to rest for long. He pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. As he moved towards the window, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the cracked mirror. The face staring back at him was a sight to behold. His hair was caked in sweat and dirt. His eyes were bloodshot. As he stood in front of the mirror he heard sounds of pottery being moved. He turned quickly to see Theo existing from a small archway. As their eyes met Theo face lit up in a bright smile and he rushed forward wrapping his arms around Telemachus in an embracing hug.
“You scared me! Do not ever do that again!”
Telemachus could hear the pain and longing in Theo's voice. He wanted more than anything to promise him he would be safe. But he was unsure. The creeping suspicion that danger was still coming for him clouded his mind.
Telemachus spoke his voice cracking “My prophet, I wish more than anything I could promise you, but my life is a little bit dangerous!”
Theo hugged him tighter, and Telemachus winced. “Darling you are crushing my lung here!”
Theo realized his grip and he looked up into Telemachus eyes. Telemachus smiled down at him. Theo was the shorter one in their relationship, so it was common for Theo to stand on his toes to see or kiss his face. Telemachus went to speak but his breathing hitched, and he found himself bending forward and sneezing into Theo shoulder.
“Ahh’TTSChh’hIIEWW!!”
Theo jolted at the sudden harsh sneeze in surprise and stammered out. “Bless you.”
Telemachus recovered, sniffling, wetly before responding, his voice thick with congestion.
“Thanks, must be the hay.”
He said he thought it was a convincing lie, but judging from the raised eyebrow from Theo, he didn’t believe it to be such.
Theo spoke in a soft but concerned tone. “I think you might be catching a cold. If you haven’t already. I know how hard you’ve been working for this tournament….for these games but you are human. You are immortal you know that right?”
Telemachus nodded. Slowly there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that repeated the word mortal mortal mortal repeatedly. Wiping his nose on his arm, leaving a trail of mess behind he started to respond.
“Theo. I have to win these games she is counting on me.”
“I’m sure she would understand. I don’t think she wants you to die.”
Telemachus rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die from a cold. How weak do you think I..” he pauses as his breath begins to hitch.
Theo, knowing what’s about to happen reaches up and covers his nose with his hand, catching the sneezes as they rock his body forward.
He felt each damp blast spray the inside of his palm, his expression shifting from a grimace to sympathy as Telemachus pulled back with a miserable sounding sniffle.
“Bless you I don’t think you’re weak, but I do think you’re sick. And this” he says, wiping his hands discreetly on his pants. “Shows that. Plus, you said it yourself. Please don’t compete. You won the first challenge that's enough for her.”
Telemachus tried to believe him, but after everything he had put forth for this, there was no way he was backing out now.
He coughed, wincing as his torso twined in pain. He took a deep breath through his mouth, unable to through his nose, and replied. “I’ll see you at the beach. I’m going to win.”
Without saying another word, he turned, grabbed his helmet and discarded armor in the corner, and left the recovery area stepping out into the sun. He shivered, sending a quick prayer to Athena. Praying for his strength in the upcoming race and started the walk down to the local beach to compete in the swim relay.
The sun hung low over the Ionian Sea, casting a golden hue over the landscape. Telemachus wrapped his arms around his body and made his way slowly down the path towards the beach. His steps were unsteady, each one a battle against the fever that burned within him. The air was filled with the scent of salt and the distant cries of seabirds.
As he reached the edge of the beach, Telemachus paused as his breath began to hitch.
Telemachus wobbled with the force of the sneezes and put his arms out to steady himself. As he took a step he felt her next to him.
“I know what you are going to say” he whispered to the salt air.
Athena smiled. “Telemachus you do not need to do this; you can still win if you don’t compete there are multiple tiers of this-”
He interrupts her. “Athena you never back down from a fight why- ihh…hehH…o-ohh c-come ohh–n “HhNgktsCHH’IHHWw! HhdtsHHIHww!!-iSSCHHhihhww!!…HH! IH!…IIh--'tsschHHiEHHww!”
“Bless, you do not sound well.”
“I am fine Athena I could do this in my sleep,” he said sniffingly before continuing onto the beach.
The sand was warm beneath his feet, and he could feel the energy of the earth seeping into his bones. He walked slowly towards the water's edge, each step a triumph over the weakness that threatened to overwhelm him.
The sea was calm, its surface glittering like a million tiny diamonds. Telemachus knelt and cupped his hands, scooping up the cool, clear water to splash onto his fevered face. The sensation was like a kiss from the gods, a brief respite from his suffering. He sat down on the sand, allowing the waves to lap gently at his feet.
In the distance, he could see the silhouette of a small boat, its sails catching the last rays of the sun. He just had to make it there and back before anyone else. He looked around at the competition. Most were drinking or stretching a few were in silent prayer. As he returned his look to the ocean his nose started burning with the need to sneeze. He ducked his head between his legs and sneezed, a wet and sickly sound, that seemed to echo off the cliffs surrounding the beach. He soon heard a few whispers of health, and he kept his face lowered, embarrassment heating his checks.
Then lined up at the starting line.
Chapter 4 (switching pov to theo)
'Wait Telemachus don’t go' the words barley left his mouth before Telemachus was gone. Theoclymenus stood in both amazement and frustration, still in the recovery chamber. Why couldn’t he just listen to him!
Telemachus was always known for pushing himself. The hypothesis was that he got it from his father. Both men didn’t know when to quit, admirable in some and stubborn in others.
Theoclymenus grabbed a few supplies, packing them in a satchel before heading outside into the bright sun. The path down to the water wasn’t exactly a hard terrain, but Theoclymenus‘s mind wandered, making him walk slower.
What if he got hurt? There was no way he could swim; he could barely stand without wincing! How is he going to accomplish this? Theoclymenus had always been a bit of a worrier. He believed it was due to his ability to be a seer. His father is Polypheides and he comes from a family of seers and prophets.
He continued his trek down the mountain to the beach. He paused when he saw the curly hair of Telemachus at the junction of the beach and the walkway. He was standing looking out into the sea the wind whipping his hair. It was almost peaceful until the lanky brunette sneezed. The sound rebounded off the caves and rocks that surround the small beach. Theoclymenus whispered a small blessing and then two more as he doubled over again.
His heart yearned as he saw the brunette stumble and he protectively reached out a hand to him. But Telemachus shook his head and kept walking leaving sandy footprints in his wake.
Theoclymenus watched as Telemachus joined the others at the starting line. He wasn’t seriously going to consider racing!!
The boat, which was a halfway point was 50 yards and then another 50 yards to get back there was no way he could swim that. He sat with the other spectators, his eyes focused on Telemachus. His heartbeat quickened as he saw Telemachus's body convulse.
At the sound of the horns, he saw him dive into the water, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Watching the other swim out was going slower than the others. His movements dragged against the waves that lapped against him. He saw a couple of times he would flip onto his back, probably as a retrieve to let his muscles relax. When he got to the boat, he saw the others hall him up. He was afraid his heart was going to burst watching the scene unfold.
Theoclymenus had not realized he had started to move closer to the water edge until a hand from a guard stopped him. He looked in horror as Telemachus continued and jumped back into the water. Theoclymenus couldn’t help it he calls out to him in a desperate plea.
“Please let me help him. He’s going to die.” He yelled into the wind. The wind took his words, twisting and turning and let it fall upon deaf ears. Others had already finished and were celebrating their victory, but all the noise was drowned out for Theoclymenus.
His eyes focused, his breath coming in short breaths, and then the movement from Telemachus stopped. Without thinking he pushed back past the guard, ignoring how he was gripped from behind, ripping his shawl and wadding into the water. The water was ice cold. The freezing temperature sent shockwaves into his body. He didn’t care; he had to get him he had to save him. As he approached the man who was treading water weakly, he grabbed his arm. He was not a trained athlete and was struggling but he felt so much power in his stroke. And hauled him onto the shore.
Telemachus clung to him, his body trembling with exhaustion and illness. As they reached the beach, Theoclymenus gently laid his head down on the soft sand, his eyes filled with worry.
“Are you okay, love?” he asked, brushing wet strands of hair from his face.
Telemachus nodded weakly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m...I’m sorry, Theoclymenus. I thought I could handle it.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “You’re safe now. Let’s get you home and take care of you.”
Telemachus nodded and his eyes shut.
Chapter 5
Theo stirs from his slumber, nestled beside his beloved, Telemachus. The warmth of their entwined bodies creates a cocoon of comfort beneath the linen sheets. The cool morning breeze slips through the open window, carrying the fragrance of blooming jasmine and the distant murmur of the Ionian Sea.
Theo's eyelashes flutter open, revealing the soft blue of his eyes as he transitions from dreams to the waking world. He stretches his limbs carefully, mindful, not to disturb Telemachus’ sleep.
With a tender touch, Theo brushes a strand of hair from Telemachus’ face, feeling the warmth of his skin against his fingers. He thinks to himself. ‘He does have a fever.’
His breath is short and seems labored. Theo slowly rises from the bed, careful not to disturb the prince. He makes his way out of the room. He goes to the mason to fill a few pots with water. He dips the pot into the water watching the ripples and his reflection. A sudden scream jolts him. He looks around for the source, but the sound is coming from…the prince's room. The pottery is forgotten as Theo sprints up the stairs his heart pounding. He runs into the room.
Telemachus is sitting straight upright in bed looking around the room franticly. His eyes are stained with tears and choking sobs escape him.
Their eyes meet and Telemachus clutches his chest. “You left me…you left me alone.”
Theo crosses the room in a few strides. Wrapping Telemachus in a protective hug. “No love I did not leave, I will not leave you. You have a fever, you do not know what you are saying.”
Telemachus continued to cry, his broken sobs echoed in the room. Theo rubbed his back whispering small comforts. Eventually, Telemachus’ exhaustion caught up to him and he slumped against Theo. Theo positioned him to lie on his chest. Telemachus' cries lessened and he turned his face into Theo’s chest and mumbled a few words, he did not catch before closing his eyes and going back to sleep.
Telemachus felt a hand running over his back before the pain hit him like a wave from Poseidon. All the soreness from the day prior invaded his senses in an instant and he took a sharp inhale. The hand rubbing his back stopped and a quiet voice spoke. “Just relax, you are okay, you're safe.”
Telemachus opened one eye. It took a few moments for his vision to unblur, and he saw his room. The open window with light shining through. He took a breath in through his mouth, feeling how dry his lips and throat were. The rubbing on his back stopped and he turned his head and found himself looking into the concerned eyes of Theo.
“Hi,” he managed to say. His voice was soft and strained. He tried clearing his throat, but it just made him cough. He felt Theo move from his side and return with a cup. Telemachus grabbed the cup and slowly instructed Telemachus to drink the water. It felt good on his throat, he swallowed and winced slightly before speaking again.
“Theo?”
Theo held his hand and replied, “Yes my love.”
Telemachus looked up at him with a face of acceptance and announced, “I think I have a cold.”
Theo could not help but laugh. He leaned his head so just their forehead was touching. “I know… Athena knows… I am sure the whole town of Ithaca knows.”
Telemachus smiles for a moment before his face and takes on a look of desperation. His eyes dart around before settling on the blanker he is wrapped in. He grabs the corner of it and desperately sneezes into it, causing the corner to become discolored.
“Bless you!”
“You are going to get sick of saying that.” Replied the prince, sniffling wetly.
Theo shook his head and answered. “I haven’t yet, have I?….no I haven’t.”
“Good because” his breath hitches. “I- hehh! I-I hih-HhaHh! I-I am guh- g-gonna-huhhAH—!”
A grin spreads across Theo, and he holds Telemachus closer to his chest. “Hmm? You are gonna…?”
The struggling prince tried to talk. “Sneh-hehheeze!”
“I know love, come on, you can do it,” Theo said encouragingly. Telemachus sometimes needed to be reminded he was human and to let his body do what it needed to.
His chest expands as his lungs draw deep.
“Heh! HEH! HEHHT’CHIEW!”
“Bless you after all these years you still can't cover your mouth can you?” he said eyeing the mess left on his face.
He sniffled. “S-Snf, sorry.”
Theo smiled he pulled a soft handkerchief; cupped Telemachus chin gently and tilted his face up. "Hold still."
Telemachus blinked, surprised but obedient, his lashes fluttering as Theo dabbed carefully at his nose. "Y-you don’t have to do that," he murmured, his cheeks flushing.
"Someone has to," he replied. "You’re like a water hose, and my clothes are in the line of fire." He gave a satisfied hum and placed the very used item on the bed. “And besides this way, I get to look at your cute face.”
Telemachus let out a watery chuckle, only to cut it off with a sharp gasp. Theo barely had time to reach up to cup his hand in front of his face before Telemachus snapped forward with another sneezing fit.
“Goodness bless you, wow that water did a number on you?”
Telemachus sighed before speaking. “…to be honest I was sick even before then.” He said sheepishly.
Theo sighed. “I won't yell at you, but I am sure she will.”
“Oh, I am looking forward to it.. oh fuh- hh-! huHd’ESSCHHIEWWw!!!”
Theo waited before saying bless you as he saw Telemachus’ nose still twitching.
hiHH-!hihh’ihH-! HAAASSCHHIUHh-!! Sorry, I- AAAASSCHHIEW!! -…. s’hH’ESSCHHIEWWw!! He collapsed against Theo's chest exhausted.
“Bless you, that feel better?”
“No,” he replied stuffy.
Theo grabbed a new cloth and held it over his nose. “Come on, blow you need to get that stuff out of your head.”
He blew his nose with a loud, gurgling sound, sighing heavily as he crumpled the cloth in his fist.
“We are going to run out of handkerchiefs at this rate,” Theo commented before continuing. “It is okay, I know you are sick, I was probably already doomed at his point anyway to catch this.”
Telemachus rolled his eyes before adjusting his position. “I am not going to sneeze on you.”
“You have in the past.”
Telemachus blushed every shade of red you could imagine before hiding his face on Theo's chest.
“Aww someone speechless?”
Telemachus head snaps forward with messy sneezes, soaking, his chest “ehHTSCHHUH! hiiH- hiih- hiiHGTzsHHuuh! hiiHH'tTSSCHHIEEW! HAHH'ASSCHHHUE!
“Bless you, you done?”
Telemachus shakes his head no before ducking down again with a wet triple.
“Bless you! Wow this is a bad cold isn’t it?” Theo said wiping his partner's nose which was already so red and irritated.
Telemachus nods and nuzzles into his chest.
“You need some tea. Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”
Theo crosses his arms. “I am not going to drown in my fluids.”
Theo sliding off the bed had doubts about that but ruffled his hair before heading down to the kitchens.
He returned in a few minutes to a pathetic display. Telemachus sat upright in bed, hunched over, sniffling.
Theo held out the mug in his hands, tilting it slightly toward Telemachus. “It’s tea,” he explained.
Telemachus huffed weakly, a sound that might have been a laugh if he had the energy for it. With trembling hands, he reached for the mug, his fingers brushing against Theo’s briefly as he took it. He sniffled wetly, his red and swollen nose twitching faintly, but the motion only irritated his sinuses further. His breath hitched once—twice—
Theo knowing he was going to burn himself held onto the cup.
The sneezes erupted from him in rapid succession, bending him forward until his head nearly rested on his knees. The motion jolted Theo and some of the tea slipped over the sides and burned his hand.
“Spill it. Bless you! Those sound bad.”
Theo sets the cup on the side and climbs back into bed with him. “My love, I am so sorry you feel so awful.”
After a few minutes, Telemachus breaks the silence. “Want to know what the worst part is?.... I cannot kiss you.”
Theo bursts out laughing. “Says who!” and leans down and kisses him on the forehead. “What am I going to do with you!”
“Maybe see our future together,” he smirked.
He laughs “Fever got your brain, just close your eyes love. I will be here.”
