A/N: For the lovely @tazabel, I am your Secret Santa! Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my dear. I hope you enjoy.
Pairings: Odysseus/Penelope
Warnings: Literally this is so fluffy. Oh my god. Diabetes warning?
"Whyever are you looking at me like that?" Penelope laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners like the folds of the finest blankets she weaves. The greys in her hair sparkle like caught starlight, the faint brackets about her mouth deepening when she smiles over her shoulder at him.
Odysseus cannot look away. He hasn’t been able to, not since he finally returned.
He flexes his hands idly, letting them hang between his knees. The urge to grab Penelope and drag her back into the bed, with him, is nigh-on overwhelming. But he must let her out of his grip at some point—and she is weaving in front of the window, something he knows she loves. He couldn’t countenance taking her away from something she loves.
"Odysseus?" He blinks. Thoughts come and wash away like the gentle lapping of the tides on the shore for him. Now more than ever: the peace is making him into something soft. "Come here, strange man," Penelope beckons, turning sideways on her stool. “What are you thinking about so hard—?”
Penelope moves to get up, but he's too quick to settle on the floor at her feet, old bones creaking as he all but leaps off of the bed. She does little more than stand before he’s there, nuzzling his head into her thighs, coaxing with calloused hands on her hips for her to sit again. Penelope does, slowly, and then he sighs lowly in pure contentment.
He places his head in her lap, leans against her shins with his torso. Penelope’s knees dig into the space just below his collarbones, his heartbeat thrumming against them like a plucked lyre-string. His fingers inch upwards, until he can clasp them around her waist, urging her further into his own body. Penelope giggles—and oh, what a wondrous sound! It makes his heart soar up on fluffed, downy wings. She parts her legs so he can be that much closer to her, her arms reaching out to cradle his shoulders, his head, against her belly and her bosom. He curls around her as she has curled around him and it is perfect.
"Odysseus," she sighs, but under the exasperation is a fondness as deep and fathomless as the sea. "You lovely, wonderful, strange man."
"Dear woman," he murmurs into the plush of her breast, hands sliding down to her thighs, relishing in how they pudge out while she's sitting. He lets his palms be heavy and greedy on his way back up, grinning at the shiver he causes to creep up her spine. Odysseus can’t help but flex his fingers, testing her ribs, feeling as they move with every breath.
"My dearest, my wife," he croons, looking up through his lashes.
She's blushing like a girl-child at him, and he knows from the heat in his own cheeks that he's not far off, himself. But that's alright.
Let them be fools in love, now that they have the time. Penelope presses a palm to his face, thumb following the arc of upturned cheekbone. She bends downwards as he reaches up: mirrors of each other, always.
Forever. Never again shall they be parted. After all—he can’t countenance taking away something she loves, now can he?
Their lips meet, and it is as if the dawn will never come.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
hello stranger, sailor
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: The Odyssey - Homer, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Odysseus/Penelope, Odysseus/Penelope (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Odysseus & Telemachus (Ancient Green Religion & Lore), Penelope & Telemachus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Athena & Odysseus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Characters: Odysseus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Penelope (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Suitors of Penelope (Odyssey), Halitherses, Athena, Palamedes (Ancient Greek Religion and Lore), Agamemnon (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Menelaus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Helen of Troy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ajax the Lesser son of Oileus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Diomedes (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Nestor (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Teucer son of Telamon (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Apollo (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Telemachus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Additional Tags: Graphic Description, scheming to defy fate?, more likely than you think, baby Telemachus is adorable, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
The Ithacan prophet Halitherses divines that Odysseus, if he leaves for Troy, will be gone from his island for twenty years - and return alone, bereft of friends and beset by foes in his home's hallowed halls.
Odysseus refuses to let that happen. There must be a way to cheat the prophecy he's been given, just like he cheated death at the boar's tusks. He will be a father: Telemachus must know him by no other name. Nobody will raise his son, take his beloved Penelope to wife. Not whilst he still has breath in his body.
Nobody.
(AKA Odysseus returns right after the Trojan War AU)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
never get free, lamb to the slaughter
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: EPIC - Jorge Rivera-Herrans (Albums), The Odyssey - Homer, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Eurylochus & Odysseus (EPIC: The Musical)
Characters: Eurylochus (EPIC: The Musical), Odysseus (EPIC: The Musical), Odysseus' Crew (EPIC: The Musical), Poseidon (EPIC: The Musical)
Additional Tags: fishysseus, the prologue if you will, Graphic Description, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Eye Trauma, Eye Gouging
Series: Part 1 of Blood in the Water
Summary:
Odysseus can't think of what just happened - he needs to get his men somewhere safe. He needs to repair the boat. He needs -
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
bring my Sailor home
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Odyssey - Homer, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Odysseus/Penelope, Odysseus/Penelope (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Characters: Suitors of Penelope (Odyssey)
Additional Tags: characters aside from Penelope only mentioned, mention of the unwanted advances of the Suitors, Penelope just wants Odysseus, Masturbation, Threats of Violence, from Penelope, Unfortunate Implications, Suicidal Thoughts, they are by no means explicit and are up to interpretation
Series: Part 2 of Nobody is resting under the olive tree
Summary:
As Penelope weaves her shroud and entertains the Suitors during the day, she tries to carve out some time for herself at night. To think of Odysseus... of his hands, his voice, his beloved heart. But there is only so long Penelope can hold on for, until her ruse is discovered.
Ehehehe since you reblogged the last snippet, I'll give you more from the same fic! 👀 if anybody wants another sneak peek, look at this ask game and mosey on into my inbox!
This is fanfic is my baby. My child. I won't be posting it until I'm finished with it, so as to avoid any lack of motivation or discouragement. I expect it'll be done by late summer at the earliest, and probably be around 60k words at the shortest.
Athena's descent was like a thousand hands, pressing to his shoulders, clasping into muscle and bone. Digging, ripping through his mortal coil like a child tore at butterfly wings.
Fingers, overlarge, gripped at his chin and wrenched it to the left, neck straining, craning his head until his ear was offered up to the Heavens. To Athena, for her to drip honeyed victory directly into Odysseus’s skull.
The little child whined when he was set down. Big, brown eyes blinked up at the gently glowing ceiling, too blurry for him to really make out. He slapped the ground, face scrunching at the scratchy dead grass. Head wobbling, he began to move, fisting the crinkly brown around him and yanking, giggling.
The sound of burbling drew him, innocent curiosity turning to fear at the amount of—of people around the burbling sound. They stood tall and silent and scary. And then, his eyes alit on a shiny helmet, lighting up in joy just as fast.
He crawled to the one person he knew, tiny body quickly growing exhausted as he struggled in the riverbank’s sand, but—there. His knees used to soft furs, his hands used to clutching at his mother’s hair, were reddened and smarting. But he did it. He made it.
Astyanax giggled, looking up at his father, reaching his hands as high as he could and waving his tiny fists.
“Up! Upupup!”
Prince Hector of Troy did not answer. Astyanax frowned, face crumpling as easily as cloth, cheeks reddening as he fought not to scream. His little fists lowered, slapping down on the sand. He did it again, a mighty plap, breathing picking up. He was determined.
Astyanax gripped at his father's legs with stubby hands. Using Hector's shins for support, the babe wobbled to his vulnerable feet, sniffling. He scrabbled at the leather straps holding up bronze greaves because he’d never done this on his own and the thought of falling and failing and being bad was terrible. Worse than the itchy sand.
But little Astyanax did it, standing on teetering legs, even if he was leaning against Hector’s. His tiny fingers wriggled where they pinched under pressure of the strap, a pout marring his rosebud mouth. But joy lit up that face soon enough, because surely now dada would look at him. The boy tilted his head back, careful to not tip completely and ruin it. Dada's face was shadowed by the scary helm, and it made Astyanax fuss with the leather he had ahold of. That bubble of uncertainty was growing too big for so tiny a body to contain.
One hand still on the prince of Troy's legs, the other balled into a fist and was pushed into a gummy mouth, teeth not quite in all the way yet.
Quiet, my love, we can’t be found. Astyanax remembered what mama’d said, and he was good. A good boy. He shoved his fist in a little deeper, just in case, feeling everything too much, overwhelm dampening his lashes.
Why wasn't dada listening? Why wasn't he moving?
Whimpering, Astyanax knew he'd be bad if he screamed but it was hard, so hard and dada was right there and—
Astyanax let go of Hector’s legs, a chubby hand rising, ready to strike, angry, so angry at dada—only to fall onto his bottom in the sands of the river bank because he lost his balance. His other fist popped out of his mouth, and like an uncorked bottle, he started to cry. Big, fat drops ran down reddened, babysoft cheeks in heartbreak.
The babe looked up, up, up through water-filled eyes at the blank gaze of Hector—
