#The truth is: they are both *right* and they are both *wrong*.

[altarecs]

note: welcome back to altarecs! we're reviewing in depth tonight, fellas. strap in.

today's fic is actually by a dearest friend of mine. shall we?

spoilers under the cut!

notes before reading: POSEIDON THIS PU-*gunshot* also, i wrote a fic for this collaboration too! but anyway i digress. onward!

real as hell already, jessifer.

me either, chan!! sometimes i think about them

oh i'm already so sad...

ageism prevalent in the world of greek gods is CRAZY work but i see the vision.

i have no idea why this made me as sad as it did. it really shows how losing all you know, everything you have can change you as a person and warp your sense of self. it's kind of like losing yourself in the past while still trying to prevail in the present.

no clue what you're talking about, i'm never wrong.

mentions chan without mentioning chan is my favorite thing ever.

MY FAVORITE PLOT DEVICE EVERYBODY, KWON SOONYOUNG!!

this entire paragraph reminds me of the call of the void, actually. i feel the same.

OH I LOVE LEE CHAN I LOVE LEE CHAN LEE CHAN DO YOU NEED HEAD!

i do girl, give that application here.

me convincing myself that everyone isn't out to get me

girl fym 'thankfully'??! that's pookie! he's our endgame, idiot!

CLOCK HER, TIGER MAN!

oh lawd the goin' is gettin' GOOD.

goodness me...maturity does the soul good, doesn't it.

soonyoung, oh soonyoung...i love you so dearly.

GUYS IT'S SHERLOCK

I AM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEETTTT AUAUAUAUA

still cutie patootie chan, after all. i love him so dearly, it's like that video of him at a photoshoot when he got shy after lifting up his shirt. i love himmmmm so BADDD FREE ME

that wasn't the question, chan. you're not slick.

circle time with mr. lee telling us stories is my new favorite thing.

something about it makes me think of that connect the dots meme

this one

anyway, i digress

OH YOU BITCH THEY KISSED

I LOVE A MAN THAT LIVES FOR VERBAL CONSENT I LOVE A MAN THAT ASKS FOR CONSENT I LOVE CONSENT

alright bro.

BLUSHES LIKE A SLUT? HELLOOOOO LEE CHAN?

man i wanna come work at the aquarium too tf

yanno, i could feel the angst coming and yet i ignored it

butter me up and call me a biscuit bc i'm stupid as fuck for that

when did you meet my ex, jessifer???

YN IS ME YN IS MEEEE

WE'VE REACHED THE IMAGE LIMIT SO WE PROCEED IN INDENTS.

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And that’s when it clicks. That’s when he realizes. You’re not just a reincarnated sea nymph. No, it’s much deeper than that. He knows your soul more intimately than he knows his own. He can’t believe that he didn’t see it right away. Can’t believe he’s had you in his bed for months now without realizing.

girl this is amphitrite, get with the program.

“Poseidon. The one true love of my life, yes,” he says. 

is this where we kiss again!! long lost lovers found each other across the time and space continuum!!!

She should have been given a say in her own life rather than treated like property by her father and the man who claimed to love her. 

ah yes. because we are somebody, not just some body. thank you for touching base on that.

Now, it just felt like she had been forced into a life she never wanted.

this makes me so incredibly sad for the both of them, and i've read and reread poseidon and amphitrite so many times.

There’s the sparks that always fly between you two.

sparks flyyyy it's like electricityyy

also funny because he's the god of the sea and sparks =/= water

Then, almost as if on cue, that whispering voice returns. It reminds you of how you felt when you first met Chan. Of the distaste you had without being able to place it.

we can never have nice things, can we? sigh...

a part of me feels really...i understand her. but thinking about the hurt that both of them have been through, and to think that she could potentially rip herself away from him after all of these conversations and all of these truths...where does that leave her? where does that leave him?

He’s incredibly sorry, but he’s going to be leaving for a while. He knows that it’s not fair to you, but it’s something that he’s got to do.

for some reason...i can hear 'the power of love' by celine dion playing in my head right now.

also, i've begun to tear up! yay!

It’s selfish, he admits, so incredibly selfish, but he can’t move forward with you, even if that’s what you want, without knowing more. He can’t watch as you age and he doesn’t. Can’t grow to love you more and more only to know you have an expiration date. It’s cold, he knows, to say it that way. It’s also the way he’s going to approach it. The whole letter is filled with apologies and acknowledgements followed by buts. 

seeing the route you took and comparing it to the route i made seungkwan and y/n take in my fic is so insane. we are so different and i love it, i love how your mind works.

'wherever you will go' by the calling is playing as i type this.

It seems like both of you have a lot to figure out before you see each other next.

i hate you for doing this to me.

ENDING NOTES:

This fic has made me incredibly sad, and I could physically feel my chest tighten and loosen up with every word. I wanted to understand mc, and while I do...I think I appreciate both of them taking the decision to search deeper for answers. Do I think maybe Chan could've done this face-to-face? Yes, of course. But then I'd also be hoping for a yearning, a begging scene of rekindlement, of "we can do this together, please don't leave me."

Well done, Jessifer. I love it.

as wild and untamable as the sea | l.c

pairing: greek god!chan x reincarnated sea nymph!f!reader genre: angst, romance, smut | reincarnation, fantasy, greek gods!au rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~15.8k warnings: mentions of past unhealthy relationships, (possibly inaccurate) greek mythology, lots of POV switches (but i don't think it's confusing) mentions of eating, explicit smut, multiple sex positions, unprotected sex (just don't), slight edging, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), chan is strong and very in control, i think that's all but let me know if it's not

summary: Chan remembers everything. Every little thing that's happened to him since his days as one of the twelve Olympians. Poseidon to be exact. Even though he tries not to think about it now that he's living in modern times running a sad little aquarium, some memories are more vivid than others. Then, you stumble into his life and he can't explain the draw. You can't seem to figure out how this man is keeping an aquarium like this running when it seems like it's not that busy. Something about him really seems to put you off, despite the fact that he seems drawn to you. None of it makes any sense...until it does.

a/n: this is for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab that @beomcoups & @wooahaeproductions have been tirelessly working on. thank you so much for hosting this! i know this isn't the end for this couple, but i really needed to get this out into the world. if you want to know what happens next with them, let me know.

a/n 2: this is semi-unedited and i'm just throwing it out into the world but i'll come back. if you see anything glaring, no you didn't!

tag list: @illiadiaz, @syluslittlecrows, @yini-yang, @fancypeacepersona, @bitchlessdino, @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tusswrites, @cookiearmy

Another day, another dollar. 

Wasn’t that what the humans said about another day spent working at some mindless job? Despite all the years he’s spent blending into their world, Chan still doesn’t really understand the humans. Doesn’t really understand why they put up with so many things they seemingly hate. Doesn’t really understand why they waste their short lives on something that makes them miserable. But, in fairness to the humans, Chan has also never had to worry about the trivial things that come along with working like money, possessions, or a home. When you’re one of the original gods of Olympus and life is seemingly infinite, money isn’t really an issue. 

That’s who Chan was in another lifetime: Poseidon. The God of the Sea, among other things. At least, until Olympus fell. A painful thought that he usually tries to push from his mind.

In the early days after Olympus fell, Chan still went through life acknowledging who he was. He leveraged his powers for favors or for payment. He used his control of the water and everything in it to get him what he needed. But, the years went by and the Olympians became the stuff of myth. Of stories. The kind of characters that you read about in books. Only the most eccentric members of society continue to worship the Olympians as if they’re real. Which they are, Chan reminds himself. Or, they were. As the faith faded, so did the Olympians’ belief in restoring themselves to full power. One by one, they gave up the task of finding a way back until it was only Chan and Zeus left. Two of the brightest minds of Olympus. Even they had to admit their own defeat. 

Which leads to the present day. Chan has taken on a new persona, for the…well, he’s lost track of what number this one is. He’s just thankful for his ability to shapeshift into someone new whenever he needs to. Takes a new name every time, too. At first, he tried to keep in touch with his siblings and the other Olympians. That, too, fades over time. It’s been at least a century since he’s spoken to any of them. Though, occasionally, he’ll catch wind of something through the chattering of local sea creatures. Something that says at least some of them are still out there.

Chan sighs. There’s really no reason for him to be wandering down memory lane in this way. He thinks, not for the first time, that maybe he needs to pick a different cover job. One that will keep his mind a little more occupied. The reality is, though, he’s tried nearly everything he could think of over the centuries. Changing professions is a frequent occurrence when he doesn’t want to let his body show too many signs of age. Not that he minds, it’s just that people start to ask too many questions about how he’s handling things someone “his age” shouldn’t be able to handle. In the end, working with sea life has always been the best. And this set up, where he’s running a smaller aquarium off of some long forgotten boardwalk in an area that doesn’t get much traffic, is also great. It isn’t even that Chan doesn’t like being around people. He finds humans entertaining in most senses. It’s just that nothing in this life is permanent for him. He’s not going to fall in love and grow old with someone. Best to just keep things at arm’s length. 

Most days are more or less the same and Chan works the majority of them. On the rare days off, he’s not far away since his little house is within walking distance of both the aquarium, the boardwalk it’s on, and the water. He trusts the limited staff that he has because he pays them well. Better than any other similar business, but he values loyalty. And they don’t seem to question how he’s able to make things work. That is largely due to the anonymous donors that make monthly contributions to the aquarium. Really, it’s just Chan funneling money that he’s earned over his many years on Earth so that he can keep a business afloat. Nobody seems to have anything to say. Beyond the staff not asking questions, they are all very good at their jobs. It makes life easier for Chan that way because he doesn’t have to micromanage them. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do and will only ask questions if they hit an actual block. No, the aquarium runs very smoothly. It just doesn’t get a lot of business.

Since every day kind of blends together, Chan almost never realizes as days or weeks or even months pass by. He’s in a sort of autopilot where he also knows what he has to do and just does it without question. It’s just rinse and repeat day in and day out. 

Until it’s not. Until the first day that he notices you in his small, out of the way little aquarium. Until the day that everything starts to change.

You’re not really sure what pulls you in for the first time. You’ve probably passed this sad little aquarium dozens of times without giving it a second thought. Then, one day, you decide that you might as well go in. The cost of admission is incredibly reasonable, but you think that’s probably why you haven’t gone sooner. It might seem counterintuitive. You just wonder how well the animals can be taken care of with such a low cost of admission.  You’re not sure if you can handle seeing animals mistreated. Still, there’s no going back now. Even with the outside seemingly a little poorly cared for, you still find your feet pulling you forward. 

You’ve never been more wrong about anything in your life. 

The dingy outside gives way to a vibrant inside that’s teeming with love and light. The art on the walls is carefully curated to match the different areas of the aquarium. There are workers with genuine smiles going about their days. Even the animals seem to be happy. It’s also deceptively large on the inside. It makes you wonder why it looks so run down from the outside. Surely, someone that cares this much about the animals could care a little more for the outside as well. Maybe that’s the point. Why waste money on an outside nobody really cares about when it can go to the best care possible?

Almost immediately, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Just this morning, you were ready to explode from all the stress in your life. Now, stress feels like the furthest thing from your mind. In fact, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. Strange. This is the first time you remember a single place erasing any sort of worry. Just as you’re about to consider that the place holds some kind of magic, you realize that not everyone seems to be as at ease. A mother scolds her child and an elderly couple bicker. It breaks a little bit of the illusion, though you still feel calm. 

Subconsciously, your feet carry you to the area with the sea otters. They have always been some of your favorites, even if they’re not the typical sea resident that people think about. As you watch on, two chase each other around the enclosure. They seem like they must be young with the way they can’t seem to stop playing. It’s incredibly endearing to watch. Another, slightly larger, otter emerges from around a bend and the original two quickly dip under the water to shoot off. It almost seems like a mother scolding her children, but maybe you’re creating too many stories within your own mind. Your imagination, especially around sea life, can be a bit active.

A few minutes later, a worker comes out and starts feeding all the otters. They’re quick to come and get the food, showing just how many there are. You weren’t expecting to see such a large population in this off-the-beaten-path aquarium. The man feeding them looks young, but that’s true of nearly everyone that you’ve seen here. They all look young and entirely too pretty. This man is no different. He’s sporting a very blond, shaggy semi-mullet that doesn’t look like it could possibly be his natural hair color. Yet, it looks remarkably believable on him. When you frown at the amount of food he’s giving to the otters, he walks over to the side of the enclosure and leans on the railing close to you. He tosses a bucket of crab legs out into the water and the otters go crazy for that. It seems an odd choice for animals living in captivity, but what do you know? 

“Did you know,” the man begins, “that sea otters eat 25% of their weight in food every day?” 

Well. That certainly explains it. “I didn’t.” 

“I like to give them the crab legs too because it’s a fun little activity for them,” he carries on with a smile. “It’s also something they’d eat in the wild.” 

“That seems…expensive,” you say carefully. 

The man only smiles bigger. “Oh it is! But our boss has really great donors for the aquarium and we can afford to feed them well.” 

“Well, then the otters are definitely lucky,” you note and turn back to the otters.

“We all are. Chan takes care of us just as well as all the animals that live here,” he says. 

“Chan?” you ask. 

“Oh, our boss,” the man carries on happily. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.” 

You take his extended hand and give your own name in response. Soonyoung happily carries on with telling you all about the otters they have, including the name of each one. Then he offers to take you on a tour of the aquarium because of your interest. It’s too nice of an offer to turn down. It also further proves that you should not judge a book by its cover. Every inch of the aquarium is so masterfully cared for and every living being seems happy. That is, if a fish can also seem happy. The tanks aren’t overcrowded or dirty. And, you can’t explain it, but you can just tell they’re happy. Each person that they encounter seems to genuinely love their job. You’re not even sure why you’re paying such close attention. Or why you care so much. 

Truthfully, there’s always been something of a call to the ocean. A peace that comes over you when you’re near the water. It was enough to get you to move cities, figuring that would satisfy that need. The pull only got stronger. Plenty of people feel at peace surrounded by water, you reason, and don’t think further on it. You don’t consider that worrying about the conditions in an aquarium may not be normal. Don’t consider that most people don’t start getting moody when they’ve been separated from the ocean too long. Don’t consider that it really is only the ocean. Although sometimes a freshwater lake, when it’s big enough with plenty of fish in it, will fill up your cup, it never lasts as long. It also never works to alleviate your mood when you do something as simple as going into the pool. 

The trip around the aquarium with Soonyoung seems like exactly what you need. Until suddenly, it doesn’t. As he’s taking you through an exhibit area, a young man appears from behind a closed door marked as Staff Only. He’s got a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His short dark hair highlights striking features. And, you think, he would be beautiful if it weren’t for the frown on his face. He looks entirely too serious for someone so young. He’s also much more dressed up than anyone else at the aquarium.

“Oh, there he is!” Soonyoung exclaims, causing the man to turn towards the two of you. His face softens a bit at seeing Soonyoung before studying you somewhat quizzically. 

“Soon,” he says with the air of someone exasperated at Soonyoung’s antics. 

“This is Chan, our boss,” Soonyoung carries on and your eyebrows fly into your hairline as he introduces you to his boss. 

Truthfully, Chan looks younger than Soonyoung in some ways. But, there’s a wisdom in his face that your new friend lacks. Like he’s lived a hundred lifetimes already. It catches you off guard. But, Chan extends his hand to shake yours and that’s when you feel it. A sudden surge of annoyance that lasts only as long as your hands are connected. If he feels anything, he doesn’t show it. His smile is friendly and it only confuses you further. 

A moment later, Chan excuses himself from the pair of you and Soonyoung leads you away to continue the tour. You can’t really shake the odd feeling you got from the handshake, though. When Soonyoung concludes his tour, you ask about opportunities to volunteer. There’s something about this place that feels like home and you’re not really sure what it is. Soonyoung’s face brightens. 

“Chan doesn’t believe in volunteers. Even if you only come in once a month, he pays you for your time and obviously waives the entrance fee so you can come visit even when you’re not working,” he says with a bright smile.

“Oh, I don’t need a job…” you start before he waves you off. 

“Leave me your contact information and I’ll pass it on. He coordinates everything himself and he can go over it all with you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have another animal lover around here,” Soonyoung says with a smile that you can’t ignore. You just met this man, why are you already incapable of saying no to him? 

“Do you have some paper?” you ask.

Chan spends the rest of the day thinking about you after a simple handshake. Then, when Soonyoung tells him that you’re interested in helping out, his pulse races in a way that’s entirely foreign to him. He can’t remember the last time a human turned his world upside down with something so seemingly trivial. In fact, he was so focused on keeping his face neutral, he didn’t notice the look on your face in response to him. He’s too concerned with seeing you again to consider anything else. Too consumed by the need to unravel whatever mystery there is to you that he can’t seem to place. Honestly, Chan can’t remember the last time he felt anything even approaching this. Nothing makes him really feel in this way. Not anymore, at least. He finds himself counting down until your first shift.

Until it actually gets here, that is. 

You report to Chan’s office, just as he asks. He holds his breath as you cast your eyes around his office area. Wonders what you’re thinking when your gaze lingers on certain things within the office. For a second, Chan considers whether it seems human enough. It’s been nearly a year since anyone new joined the staff and he wonders if he’s gotten sloppy. Nothing in your face seems to give any sort of feeling away. It surprises Chan a bit that he can’t seem to read anything about you. When your eyes rest on him, he sees a flicker of something he can’t place. Something that looks an awful lot like annoyance. 

He confirms it when his hand accidentally grazes yours to hand over your new ID. It says volunteer since you insist on only being there when you have the time, but it’s a full ID anyway. That’s just how Chan does things. When his hand meets yours briefly, he gets the sharpest flash of irritation he’s ever felt. It’s confusing because it is definitely not his own emotion that he’s feeling. And that’s not something that Chan can remember happening before either. Not like this at least. 

Chan has powers, he knows that. He can, sometimes, tune into the emotions of others. It’s easiest when he’s trying to tune into a sea animal or someone at home in water. Back before Olympus fell, he was able to tune into the emotions or even the minds of all the creatures in the sea, like the sirens, sea nymphs, merpeople, and everything else you could imagine. Even then, he usually has to actively try to tap into those emotions. It’s not something that just…happens. Not when all he’s done is let his hand graze someone else’s. Not when he’s not actively trying to feel something. It shouldn’t be something that happens with a mere human, either. 

You, for your part, don’t seem to realize there’s anything out of the ordinary. Your face looks the same. The same annoyance that you’re trying your hardest to mask under a poor attempt at indifference. Trying to shake it off, Chan calls for Soonyoung to come into the office. But, that doesn’t make it any better. It’s worse, really, because your face immediately changes into one of genuine happiness. Soonyoung seems just as happy to see you and happy at the prospect of showing you around. To be fair, Soonyoung always seems happy when there’s someone new around for him to chat with. Still, your face lighting up for him frustrates Chan in a way he can’t explain. 

Your first few times volunteering at the aquarium go really smoothly. Well, once you’re handed off to Soonyoung, it’s smooth. There’s just something about your new boss that you can’t really put your finger on. Seeing him causes annoyance to flare within you. It’s something deep that you can’t really explain and can’t recall feeling before. There’s no reason for you to dislike this man. He’s really just a man, which shouldn’t be enough on its own. Whenever he’s around, he’s perfectly friendly. It’s obvious that he cares deeply for every living thing within the aquarium. This is something he’s incredibly passionate about, which should endear him to you. Yet, it doesn’t. You can’t recall ever disliking a fellow animal lover until now. 

Thankfully, you don’t really have to deal with Chan very often. Soonyoung handles your training when you’re working, but everyone that works there seems kind. And everyone seems young. The place is full of bright-eyed 20-somethings who all genuinely seem to want to be there. It contributes to that little nagging feeling in that back of your mind that something is just…off. Not with anyone that works there apart from Chan, though.

Soonyoung seems delighted to see how quickly the otters warm up to you. Apparently, they can be a bit picky with new people. But, the first time you meet them, they all flock to you instead of their normal handler. Anyone else might be frustrated. Instead, he only thinks it’s cute that they seem to love you. Tells you that he thinks he means you're a good person. Apparently, he often judges people based on how the animals react. You both have that in common. It only seems to reinforce the point when this happens with each new enclosure you go to. None of the animals seem to treat you like a stranger. It’s more like they’re greeting an old friend. You can’t really explain that you feel the same way. Your brain periodically supplies a story for some of your new animal friends, too. It’s not the first time it’s happened and you figure it only makes sense in this setting. Your imagination is active and you love the sea creatures.

Each new visit to the aquarium seems somehow better than the last. Well, in most ways. You often feel Chan’s gaze on you before you even look over at him to check. And each time he is actually looking at you. There’s something that just sets your nerves on edge about it. Even the animals around you seem to react to the sudden surge of anger that courses through you. It’s a strong physical reaction without any clear reason that you can figure out. Yet, it’s the way you feel every time you sense his attention on you.

“You good?” Soonyoung asks, eyes cast down at your hands balled into fists. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize, turning back to him. “What were you saying?” 

“What’s going on with you and Chan?” he asks skeptically. 

“Between Chan and me?” you ask with clear surprise.

“Yeah,” he says. “He spends half the time you’re here watching you and…” 

“He does, doesn’t he?” you ask, a little too loud. “What’s up with that?” 

“What’s up with your hatred for him?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know, I just get a bad feeling,” you say after a moment. “Do you like him?” 

“Do I like the boss that overpays me to hang out with animals all day?” he asks with a laugh. Then, he looks at your face and carries on. “Oh, you’re serious. Yeah, I love Chan. None of us really know him that well because he keeps his distance from the staff outside of work, mostly. But, he’s the best boss I can imagine having. I don’t ever get bad vibes off him.” 

“Huh,” is all you say before turning back to whatever Soonyoung is teaching you.

Your eyes catch on the mysterious aquarium owner once again and that anger flares. But, you realize that it’s something more complicated than anger. It’s far too complex an emotion to put a name too and definitely too complex for someone you barely know. 

It’s just odd you think, not for the first time, that someone seemingly so young is running an aquarium that doesn’t seem to be that busy. How is he affording to take care of the animals and pay his staff so well? How is someone that seems so unlikeable able to convince so many donors to give money when it could be better spent elsewhere?

The nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you seem to be the only person that doesn’t love Chan. Everyone on the staff seems to love him. The few donors his staff have met also seem to only have good things to say. You have to consider the possibility that your feelings about him could be personal or that you’re seeing something that doesn’t impact anyone else. It’s still weird, though. Nothing about this business model should work. Is that a reason to hate someone you don’t actually know? You’re not sure.

Chan speaks with a dolphin that he’s grown to trust. No, not Chan. Poseidon. He’s Poseidon again, in all his glory. And he’s asking the dolphin to find someone for him. He’s explaining where she might be and what to say to her when the dolphin finds her. Stressing how important it is that the dolphin is the one to find her because they’re not the only ones looking. There are others looking as well and Poseidon doesn’t want them to find her. It would be bad, he knows, if anyone but himself or someone working on his behalf were to discover the truth. He’s protecting her as much as he’s protecting himself. At least, that’s what his brain insists. Whether it’s true or not, well…

The scene blurs and shifts. Poseidon is once again by the sea and this time speaking to a giant squid instead of the dolphin. The squid tells him that the woman has been found. That the dolphin succeeded and is currently speaking to her. That brings Poseidon a small sense of relief. Surely, when she understands the situation, she’ll be not only willing to come home but happy to do so. Nothing can keep them separated any longer. They are truly meant to be. 

Again, the scene blurs and shifts. This time, Poseidon sits on his throne, trident in hand, while one of his brother’s messengers kneels before him. When she rises, she delivers the message that Zeus has requested for Poseidon and his bride-to-be to join himself and Hera for an upcoming event. That’s not good, Poseidon thinks, not good at all. Surely his brother isn’t fully aware of the situation and yet he sends his messengers with invitations like this. Just as Poseidon prepares himself to make an excuse, the door to the room opens. Usually, he doesn’t allow interruptions, as his guards well know. But, the sight of his love walking through with her head held high keeps him from scolding the guards. He cannot believe that she’s back and walking in as if nothing happened. As if it hasn’t been weeks since they last saw each other. He got word she was coming back, but had not dared to hope for this.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, my love, but I heard your brother had sent an invitation,” she begins. The messenger won’t notice the hesitation or the emotions that pour off of her because she doesn’t have that gift. Poseidon feels it, though. It doesn’t put him at ease

“It’s fine. You are always welcome to hear anything shared here with me,” he says quickly. 

She turns to the messenger with her signature soft smile. “I would still apologize for interrupting your message. However, I heard that you were here with an invitation. I fear that my darling may have declined as I was recently suffering an illness.” 

“Yes, that is what I was about to do,” Poseidon agrees.

“There is no need for that as I have told you that I am feeling much better now,” she says with a brief, but calculated, smile at Poseidon. She returns to the messenger. “Please inform Zeus that we would be delighted to join him.” 

“I am thankful to hear you’re feeling better and to…see you with my own eyes,” the messenger says slightly suspiciously. 

“I am also thankful that I will get to see Hera. After all, we have so much to discuss with the upcoming wedding,” his bride-to-be says. 

With pleasant goodbyes, the messenger takes her leave and Poseidon excuses the guards remaining in the chamber. He indicates that his bride should follow him to a much smaller room off to the side so that they can speak. After all, there is so much to discuss after her running away and only to finally return. Yes, she had indicated to the messenger that she intended to go through with the wedding, but Poseidon needs answers. He needs to know why she left and to impress upon her that she could not do something like that again. 

Chan wakes up in the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat from the most vivid dream he’s had in centuries. The fact that a dream lingers at all is strange on its own. He doesn’t dream. Not anymore, at least. When he does, the subject is usually something inane and the remnants of it are gone by the time he’s fully awake. This dream is both vivid and lingering, seared into the back of his eyelids like it may never leave him. Perhaps it is because it’s not just a dream.

There’s a lot to Chan’s past that he wants to forget and for good reason. When he was one of the gods of Olympus, he made a lot of decisions that he wouldn’t make now. Or, he likes to think he wouldn’t make the same decisions now. It’s hard to remember the feeling of the weight of the world so many years later. But, he knows he did a lot of things in the interest of finding the greater good. Something that ruined some of his closest relationships and clearly still haunts him today. 

Which leads him to this dream. A dream of Amphitrite. The legends about the gods of Olympus over the years have gotten a lot of information both right and wrong. Unfortunately, the legend of Poseidon and Amphitrite seems mostly right, at least to Chan. She was the one true love of his life. The only being in the entire universe that he actually wanted to spend an eternity with. And he had not treated her the way he should have. Hadn’t appreciated her and respected her autonomy the way he should have. That’s something he thinks about now, as he continues to mature and evolve to understand all the mistakes he made once upon a time. He knows that the way he tried to hold onto her was wrong and that he worried entirely too much about what the other Olympians would think if he lost her. 

There’s also a part of him that lingers on the way she looked in the dream. He remembers that conversation because it actually happened. But, he’s not sure if he’s actually remembering the way she looked or the way he felt a tightness to his chest. That could just as easily be him looking back on the interaction through a different lens. There are so many things he wishes he could go back and change with her. So many things he wishes he could say. Mostly, even though he loved her more than he even loved himself, he wishes he could go back and give her the chance to walk away. To leave him without any sort of reprisal from the other Olympians. 

After all these years, he regrets how their relationship went. It wasn’t love when someone didn’t have options. He knows that he can’t change the past. He knows that he can’t even ask for forgiveness. It’s part of why he keeps himself from getting too close to anyone now, he thinks. As a sort of penance for forcing the only one he ever loved into a marriage that he can’t say that she wanted. Of course, she told him when she came back it was because she wanted to. Insisted that she was just nervous to be thrust into such a spotlight by his side. Says that she was worried because he had other relationships with other people and she saw how it affected other Olympians, like Hera with Zeus. That wasn’t who she ever wanted to turn into. Chan took her at what she said. It was only after he lost her that he realized it may not have been the truth. Their love may not have been the great story that he created in his head. 

He knows that he won’t be able to fall back to sleep, so he resigns himself to starting his day. After he gets ready, he sits down with a cup of coffee and his schedule for the aquarium. Today is the once per month visit from the local marine veterinarians. Although miraculously, it seems the animals never need much care, the vets still come in every month. They collect samples and run their tests to ensure that everything is going well as a general health study. They have staff that come over more frequently for some of the animals that need more consistent care. It’s also an excellent place to study since Chan allows them such complete access. 

That monthly visit isn’t what really catches his eye. Your name is on the schedule and Soonyoung has you listed as the person who will be working with the vets to make sure they have the help they need. It’s standard, really, and Chan knows Soonyoung will be around as well. That man can never ignore a chance to chat with anyone that comes through regularly. Chan also knows that Soonyoung trusts you. There’s just something about your name that sends his stomach lurching without an explanation. Sure, you haven’t exactly been the warmest in the interactions with Chan, but you’re good at the jobs assigned. It’s like there’s something just on the edge of his consciousness about you. Something just out of reach. A connection that he should be able to make and can’t. At least, not yet. 

Even though he’s going to be very early, he sets off for the aquarium and tries to shake the feeling that there’s something about you he should see. He’s never been very good when he can’t solve a problem. You may present his most complex puzzle yet. 

It’s one of the best days since you first started volunteering at the aquarium. Somehow this is the first time you’ve gotten to see the vets there for a full day and it even makes you extend your own shift. Well, it’s partially influenced by Soonyoung’s offer to buy dinner if you’re still there when he gets finished. Mostly, though, you’re just fascinated watching the vets do their work. It’s interesting to see how willing the animals are to be still for tests and how it seems like they know what to expect. You know that animals are smart and they can learn. There’s something a little different about this, though. Not only do they seem to actually see the veterinarians, but they also actively wait their turns to be seen. 

At the end of the day, you’re a little tired and feeling very accomplished at the same time. Maybe all of Soonyoung’s energy is actually infectious because you find that you’re ready to go get dinner with your friend after work. His presence is somehow calming to you even in all of the chaos. Once you make sure everything is done, you change into the spare clothes you have with you. The last thing you want is to smell like fish and whatever else got on you over the course of the day. Then, you go to find your friend. 

“Hey, are you ready for dinner?” you ask without realizing that he’s standing with Chan.

“You guys have plans?” Chan asks with curiosity, looking from you back to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks incredibly apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I completely forgot that it’s roomies night in and I can’t skip it because I missed the last one.” 

“Oh, that’s fine,” you say quickly and wave it off. 

“You should come! We always have a bunch of appetizers and stuff. I can’t remember what movie it is tonight, but it’ll be fun!” he says, as enthusiastic as ever. “I know I offered to buy dinner tonight…” 

“I appreciate it, Soonie, but I think I’m just going to get dinner and go home,” you say. “I’m going to hold you to your dinner offer, though.” 

“I was actually just about to go get something to eat myself,” Chan interrupts and you narrow your eyes. “I would be happy to get dinner for you as well as a thanks for everything you’ve been doing here.” 

“I don’t want to make…” you start, only to have Soonyoung cut across you.

“That’s so nice of you, Chan,” he says and turns to you. “You should go! He’s got the best taste in restaurants. I still think about the last time he took all the staff out.” 

“It’s really fine, I can just get something on my way home,” you say. 

“I insist,” Chan says with something unreadable on his face. “Please. Let me say thank you for jumping in so completely.” 

“Yeah, what reason could you have to say no?” Soonyoung asks with a smirk. That’s the other thing about your new friend. He can be such a shithead when he wants to be. Of course he’s using this to needle you about your dislike of the boss. It comes up at least once every time you’re at the aquarium (and plenty of times when you’re texting outside of work).

You sigh, knowing that there’s no easy way to get out of this. “Okay, let me just get my things and I’ll meet you at the entrance.” 

The walk from the aquarium to Chan’s favorite restaurant is outwardly quiet. It’s not entirely uncomfortable to walk in silence with you. Or, it wouldn’t be if your emotions weren’t screaming into the silence. The general annoyance that seems to be present any time Chan is in the same space as  you comes through loudest. There’s more now that it’s just the two of you outside of work now, too. He feels a kind of anger and distrust coming off of you along with confusion about why you feel any of these emotions. It takes time to separate that as your own confusion because Chan’s also confused. The two of you barely interact at work and yet your distaste for him rolls off of you in violent waves, like an angry ocean. It’s the only time he’s felt something like this from someone at work. Everyone else seems to like him at the very least. Something about you is very different. 

Thankfully, it’s harder for Chan to sense you once you get into the restaurant. It’s a little busier since it’s a weekend, but you still get seated right away. If you’re impressed with how Chan greets the staff like old friends, you don’t show it. Just sit down in the chair and accept the menu with a smile before disappearing behind it. Suddenly, this doesn’t really seem like the best idea. What does it matter if you don’t like him? 

“You don’t like me,” Chan announces a second later. He never has been able to let a mystery go unsolved. He’s also always prided himself on being able to work out a puzzle. He tries not to ever be as arrogant as his brother, though. 

That makes you peer across the table at him. When he thinks you’re not going to answer, you blurt out: “No, I don’t,” and seem genuinely surprised.

Chan chuckles and looks back at the menu. “At least you admitted it.” 

“I really don’t know why I just said that,” you carry on, setting your menu down. 

“Is it not true?” Chan asks. 

“No,” you say and that makes Chan raise his eyebrows. “I mean, it is true. I don’t really like you. I’m just not sure why…”

“Why you said it? Or why you don’t like me?” he presses.

“Both,” you say with a shrug. 

“Can I ask you something?” he wonders.

“You can,” you say. “I’m not gonna promise to answer if I don’t want to.” 

“That’s fair,” Chan says with a smile. “Why do you volunteer at the aquarium if you don’t like me?” 

“I like to be around the animals,” you say immediately. “I feel at peace.”

“You misunderstood part of what I was asking,” he says. Your eyes are wide. “Why not let me pay you if you don’t like me? You could be making money instead of offering your time for free.” 

That actually makes you laugh. Not a fake polite laugh, one of the real laughs he hears when Soonyoung gets you going. It’s a beautiful sound and it instantly reminds Chan of something. Or someone. He’s not really sure beyond wanting to hear it again. 

“You’re kind of funny. I’ll give you that,” you concede. 

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, eyes still glued to you. 

“I don’t know why it doesn’t feel right to take money for working at the aquarium. It just doesn’t,” you shrug. “It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever really felt like I was where I’m supposed to be and I probably sound crazy saying it. But, I get to the aquarium and my brain gets quiet and it’s like a weight lifts off my chest.”

“You don’t sound crazy,” is all Chan can say for a second. 

He’s looking at you differently now and he’s not even concerned if you realize it. It’s like something clicks for him. Like he finally pinpoints what it is about you. Of course he didn’t realize at first. It’s so unbelievably uncommon that he never thought to look. But, there’s no denying it. The way you are around the aquarium, the way you seem to slot in like you’ve been there all along, the way he can read your emotions without trying. 

This isn’t your first life. He’s only seen it a handful of times since Olympus fell. The main gods of Olympus, like himself, were able to seek refuge on Earth. Other beings were not so lucky. Many managed one or two reincarnations, but more still just…ceased to exist. It’s something he and some of the others spent a lot of time working through in the beginning. It’s been over two hundred years since Chan came across a reincarnated soul. Yet, here you are. Sitting before him. There’s no mistaking it. Once upon a time, you had been a sea nymph in Olympus. Everything clicks into place when he acknowledges that. He knows the sea nymphs as well as he knows himself. It seems impossible that he wouldn’t recognize all the signs and mannerisms. Then again, he hasn’t come across a reincarnated sea nymph in a very long time. Centuries. 

“Are you okay?” you ask after a few moments. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he says and shakes his head. This isn’t the place to try to process this. “I just haven’t met anyone that could relate to the way I feel in a long time.” 

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” you ask, voice thick with hope. It’s the first time he’s been around you without feeling any negative emotions. 

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I should have known that you understood as well. I felt like you were a kindred spirit, but…”

“I’ve been cold?” you offer with a light laugh. 

“Cautious, I would say,” he disagrees. 

“Maybe we should just start over,” you suggest and that makes Chan smile. 

Dinner actually gets much livelier from there on out. Realizing your past allows Chan to entirely change his approach. Without saying anything before you’re ready, he lets his guard down. In doing so, he hopes that some part of you will realize the connection runs deep. It seems to work, even if it’s only a little. Curiosity becomes the most prominent emotion and he capitalizes on it. 

Chan is able to suggest some of the dishes that he really likes before you ask if you can just get a few things and share them. You’re asking questions about the aquarium and his life that he tries to answer in a way that sounds honest without inviting follow up questions. Instead, he finds himself wanting to know more about you. Despite your initial reluctance to talk too much about yourself, he gets you to open up to his questions. Each answer you give draws him in further. Gives more of a glimpse into you as a person. Nothing feels too small to learn. He wants to map each of your reactions to things you actually love to things that seem difficult to speak about. 

Before either of you realizes it, it’s been over two hours and the restaurant is starting to wind down. Of course, nobody rushes you since Chan knows everyone there by name. But, you still insist it’s probably best to head out. Surprisingly, he’s still only picking up on warmer emotions from you now and maybe that makes him a little bolder. 

“There’s this really great ice cream shop just a little walk that way,” he says as you’re exiting the restaurant. 

The sideways look you give him leaves him wondering if he’s misread the situation. Then, you’re smiling like you know a secret. “I’m shocked you eat dessert.” 

“Are you…are you checking me out?” he splutters. Very little manages to catch him off guard and you have him stumbling over a simple question. 

Without answering, you just laugh and start walking in the direction he indicated. When he doesn’t immediately follow, you look over your shoulder and call out to him. “Well? I thought we were getting ice cream.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and expect…” he starts as he hurries to catch up with you.

“Expect what?” you ask, actually poking out at his side. “I would bet my entire life savings that I’m not the first person to check you out.”

“Oh, so you were checking me out,” he says like he’s just won. 

“I think that’s only fair with how many times I’ve already caught you checking me out,” you fire back, effectively wiping the smug look of Chan’s face. 

It’s been a long time since someone challenged him the way you seem to. Now that you’re talking openly, it feels like he’s known you for years. There’s a comfort that he can’t remember feeling in centuries. It feels like you just implicitly understand a piece of them that he tries to hide in any other situation. 

Something whispers from the back of his mind, like a tickle of familiarity. He ignores it, though, in favor of getting to know the incredibly interesting person before him that doesn’t seem to hate him anymore. 

After having dinner with Chan, you start to look forward to your shifts for an entirely different reason. Yes, you still get the peace that comes along with being around so many beautiful animals and so much water. You also get to feel the pleasant shift of feelings when Chan is around. Instead of feeling like something gnaws at your consciousness, now you feel a warmth coursing through your body. It’s a little strange, too, because it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

Soonyoung notices the way you and Chan gravitate towards each other now and says nothing despite the knowing smile. You don’t have to ask him to know that he thinks it’s down to him insisting you get dinner together. He doesn’t comment, though, and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. It’s hard to stop yourself from smiling, even when that makes Soonyoung smile even harder. It’s like he wants all the details of something that you don’t have many details on. At least, not at first. 

Hanging out with Chan outside of the aquarium becomes a regular thing, even on the days that you don’t go in. Each of you shows the other your favorite places in the area and you find yourself looking forward to that time more than anything else. Once or twice, you even consider asking Chan if he’s got a more full time position for you at the aquarium. You don’t quite realize you’re not living fully until something like this happens and so much more of life opens up before you. For now, though, you’ll settle for dragging him to a couple of food trucks that you love. He looks entirely out of place in his slacks and dress shirt, though at least he’s rolled up his sleeves. 

“So when are you going to come work with us full time,” he asks after sitting down with his food in front of him. He doesn’t ask you to work for him. Even his phrasing is considerate.

“Oh, well, I…” you stutter out.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he assures you. “I’ve just never met anyone that’s better at it than you and you’re not even there that often” 

“I have been considering it,” you admit. 

“What’s holding you back?” he asks. 

You take a bite to give yourself a minute to think about the answer to that. What is holding you back? Admittedly, you’ve never felt more at ease anywhere else. It’s increasingly harder to leave every time your shift is over. You look forward to when the next one will be. Have even added extra shifts when you can fit them in. There’s a part of you that also looks forward to seeing Chan. Although, you know that you could see him whenever you wanted. He always seems to make time for you. 

“I don’t know,” you finally say.

“Well, there’s a position waiting for you if you ever want it,” he says with a look on his face that you can’t quite read. 

“Why are you so patient with me?” you ask.

“Because we understand each other,” he answers a little too quickly. 

“It’s more than that,” you press, feeling, for the first time, like he’s keeping something from you. 

Chan sighs and sets his food down. “It is, but this isn’t the place to discuss it.” 

That catches you a little off guard. Thinking that there was more to the story and having him admit it so easily were two different things. “You’re not secretly in love with me or something, are you?”

He laughs at the look on your face and it eases a little of the tension. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I love being around you.” 

“No, I guess that’s true,” you say with your own laugh. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’ll tell you when we finish eating and we can leave. This kind of thing…well, it’s best to say to you somewhere that’s not so out in the open.”

That announcement surprises you, but it also excites you a little. It’s difficult not to rush through dinner, a fact that Chan picks up on and laughs about. Makes a joke about wanting to get him alone that has color rising on your cheeks. There’s an air of confidence about him despite whatever he’s going to share with you. It makes it a little easier for you to also be calm because it can’t be that bad. If it were bad, he would not seem so confident. 

After dinner, and a short back and forth, he takes you back to his apartment, which includes walking by the aquarium. Somehow, you’re still much more nervous than he seems to be. It seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to invite you back to see where he lives. He also seems quick to assure you that it’s not that he’s trying to get you alone. It just needs to be a space that is actually private. 

Despite any better judgment you may have, your curiosity is piqued. What is it that he has to say to you that others can’t overhear? Is he about to admit some crazy belief? Or tell you that somehow you were destined to meet? You’re not really sure what sort of comment might come once the two of you are alone, but you’re distracted the second you step into his apartment. It’s amazingly decorated. It feels both cozy and modern at the same time. It also feels so impossibly like him and the ocean combined into one. Maybe that’s saying the same thing. He does give you the impression of the water sometimes. 

Being inside of Chan’s personal space also feels surprisingly natural. He disappears off into the kitchen without a second thought and allows you to look around the space. When he returns, it’s with a drink for you as he encourages you to take a seat on his couch. It’s the most comfortable couch you’ve ever sat down on.

“How much do you know about the Gods of Olympus?” he asks without any preamble. Thankfully, you haven’t taken a drink yet. Otherwise, you might have spit it out.

“Like the stuff from mythology?” you ask. It’s so unexpected.

A little voice whispers in the back of your head asking if it’s really that unexpected. The truth is: you’ve always been incredibly fascinated by the myths. There’s a draw to them almost to the point of getting lost in them. But, are you going to admit that you’ve read all the books you could find and watched all the shows or movies? It’s only fantasy, really, when you think about it. You’ve bared a lot of your soul to Chan without meaning to. You’re not sure you want him to laugh at you about this. That same little voice comes back to ask if he would laugh. You’re not so sure.

“Not exactly,” he says with a knowing laugh. “You consume it though, don’t you? I can see it on your face.” 

“I - well, lots of people do, don’t they?” you ask noncommittally. 

“Not like you, I’d bet,” he answers, unbothered. 

“I guess it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure,” you finally admit. 

“I think it’s more than that,” Chan presses. 

“How can it be? They’re just myths after all,” you say.

“Do you believe that?” he asks and it’s like he’s challenging every one of your long held notions. 

“Chan, what did you want to tell me?” you ask.

“Let me tell you about Olympus as I remember it,” he says. 

“As you…remember it,” you say slowly. “Chan, what…”

“Just hear me out and let me tell you a story. You can decide afterwards if I’m crazy or if it makes everything fall into place,” he says. 

And he does tell you a story. It’s a story about the Gods of Olympus with more information thrown in than you’ve ever read in any story or seen in any movie. It’s at once more fantastical and somehow more believable than anything. There are parts that you recognize. Parts that seem to line up with the stories. And there are parts that feel entirely new. Parts that are deeply emotional and clearly difficult for Chan to say. You delight in the way his face lights up when he talks about the parties or living amongst the sea animals. Completely accept it at face value when he tells you about how his scouts used to be dolphins and how much he misses that. Your heart breaks when he talks about the fights with his siblings and the other Olympians. It all feels like you’re walking along beside him in his stories. 

It’s insane to think that any of this could be real. You keep telling yourself as you listen to the stories. But, it’s hard to remember that when you see the look on Chan’s face. There’s fondness when he talks about some of the sillier memories. Like he can’t believe that anyone was ever that ridiculous. There’s genuine pain as he tries to get through the more complicated parts. When it comes time to tell you about how Olympus fell, he chokes up. 

You believe him. It’s like something shifts and you can tell that he’s not crazy. He’s not delusional. He’s not on some crazy conspiracy theory. He was Poseidon once upon a time. The feelings of calm that you feel every time you walk into the aquarium wash over you. Like this is the only thing that’s ever made sense. That should be a little disorienting to take in all that information. Instead it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Chan isn’t even done talking when you lean over and press your lips against his. You’re not even sure why you do it or if it’s the right thing to do. When you go to pull away, he puts his hand behind your head and holds you against him. Kisses you breathless like nobody has ever kissed you before. It feels instantly familiar and new all at the same time. Like something you may have done before. But, it also sends sparks flying through your entire body. 

“So, should I carry on with telling you how you fit into all of this?” he asks when the two of you break apart from the kiss. 

“Me?” you ask, still recovering from the impulsive act of kissing him. 

“Yes, you,” he says with a soft smile. 

“I’m just a person lucky enough to meet an actual god, what could I…” you start.

“You’re not just a person,” he contradicts with a frown.

“I’m not trying to diminish myself or anything,” you assure him, but he still shakes his head.

“Can I talk?” he asks without any exasperation, though you may deserve it. You just nod. “You’re not just a person. You’re…well, I’m not sure how it works, really. I’ve come across it so infrequently. You have the reincarnated soul of a sea nymph within you. Possibly even one I encountered in another life.” 

“How can that be?” you ask with wide eyes. “No, I’m just a normal person, I…” 

“If you think about it, it actually makes perfect sense,” he says and carries on.

It sounds so simple when he outlines it for you. He asks you about your connection with the ocean, talks about your instant familiarity with the aquarium and how at peace you feel. Points out that you never feel at peace in a swimming pool, though you’re sure you’ve never said that to him. He talks about your mood shifting when you’re away from the water for too long or the way that everything about the water just seems easier. He even laughs when you admit that once when you were on vacation, a dolphin came right up to you in the ocean and seemed like it wanted your attention. It’s also not the only time something like that happened. 

Everything starts to fall into place. It’s like decoding the last little cypher of your life up until that point and showing you memories in a different light. You wonder if you’ll be able to remember anything from being a sea nymph and Chan looks apologetic when he says he doesn’t think it’ll work like that. But, he admits he’s never gotten close enough to another reincarnated soul like this to fully be able to answer it. The excitement drowns out a small voice in the back of your head that’s urging you to move cautiously. Urging you to consider if all of this really sounds right. 

You can’t really help the way your bodies seem to be drawn to each other. Many more kisses follow now that the invisible barrier seems broken. When he’s not kissing you, Chan runs his hands along whatever part of you that he can reach. 

Eventually, you don’t really want to talk. It seems absentminded, the way that Chan runs his fingers along your arm or squeezes your thigh. It’s driving you insane, though, and you need to know if he’s feeling as bothered as you are. 

“How much are you paying attention to this conversation?” you ask.

“Uh…” he says, eyes widening a bit at the question. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely out of control. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” you whine and look at his hand gripping your thigh. 

That causes his look to change entirely. He’s not out of control anymore. Now he looks a bit smug. “Oh, I’m driving you crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit without a second thought.

“I thought you weren’t even sure if you liked me?” he presses and you huff out a breath.

“I already kissed you, Chan. I think it’s clear I’m not on the fence anymore,” you say.

“Maybe I should show you my bedroom,” he says and stands.

You take his outstretched hand without hesitation. “Finally.” 

The two of you get through the doorway into his bedroom and he doesn’t even bother pretending to give you a tour. He only turns around to face you, crowding your space and forcing you back into the doorframe. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you hard. It’s not desperate, it’s perfectly controlled. Nobody has ever kissed you like this before. At least nobody that you can remember. His body presses tight against yours until you’re gasping for breath. Still, he doesn’t let you relax. He’s proving a point. If you thought he was driving you crazy earlier, it’s nothing to this. 

You gasp into his mouth when he moves a hand to hitch one of your legs around his hip. Gasp again when he does the same to your other leg and he’s balancing you against the doorframe. It seems impossible that he’s this strong. Maybe that’s part of being a god because he also barely seems to lose his breath as he keeps kissing you. You’re not usually so content to let someone else lead, but it’s so easy with him. It helps that nothing is frantic. Even though he’s driving you crazy, you love that it doesn’t feel rushed. Love that he’s really taking his time with you.

It could be minutes that Chan kisses you or it could be hours and you’re not really sure if you would know the difference. When he sets you down, it feels like an immediate loss. At least until he pulls you towards the bed. Only his eyes give away how badly he wants you. They’re dark with lust that you’re sure your own eyes reflect back at him. 

“Is this still okay?” he asks, voice thick with desire. You nod. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Chan. I want this,” you assure him. 

Thankfully it’s the only reassurance that he needs. He gently pushes you back onto his bed and immediately gets to work pulling your clothing off you. His eyes drink in every mark on your body and for the first time, you’re not self conscious. You don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you and it has nothing to do with the way he looks at you. Though, it doesn’t hurt that his desire only grows as he peels your clothing off. No, there’s just this inexplicable comfort with him. That voice in the back of your head quiets. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re so in the moment or because this is actually right. You’re not really sure it matters. 

When Chan steps back from you, you have the briefest moment of insecurity. It’s gone the next moment when he starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. Actually, your entire mind goes blank. If Chan was beautiful with clothes on, it’s nothing to seeing him removing his shirt. You know that he can change his appearance at will and know that it’s how he’s fit into places this long. So, you know that it might not be entirely him, but you’re not sure you care. Your eyes travel over the scars he still has. Probably remnants of real scars over the years. Somehow the imperfections make him more perfect in your eyes. You’re so caught up in looking at the scars that you miss him removing the rest of his clothing until he’s approaching you.

“Sit back,” he instructs.

You do as he asks without even thinking twice about it. That, at least, makes a voice stir in the back of your mind. Makes you wonder why you’re so content to do as he asks. When he climbs onto the bed and settles between your legs, the voice goes quiet again. He peppers up your leg and down the other with feather light kisses. He doesn’t draw out the build up, though. 

Chan runs a finger carefully through your folds and it makes you shudder. He watches your body carefully as he does it again, like he’s trying to map your reactions to everything. Like he wants to know exactly how to make you come undone. It’s such a simple action that works you up. When he licks into your pussy, you think it’s your new favorite feeling. It makes your entire brain go fuzzy. You don’t even realize that you’re arching your back until one of his hands snakes up your stomach to press you back into place. 

It’s almost too much, the way he works you over. He’s constantly changing the pace and his movements. His mouth moves up to suck on your clit and his finger moves down to pump into your pussy in lazy motions. The contrast of the movements makes you squirm. When you feel like you’re getting close to an orgasm, he switches it up again and pulls you back from the edge. Over and over again. He keeps switching up his attention every time you feel yourself getting close. 

“Chan, oh my fucking god,” you groan. “I’m going to die if you don’t let me come.” 

“Well, you got one thing right,” he says, pulling away from your pussy. “I am a god.”

“I hate you,” you say without any heat.

He pulls himself up your body so that he’s hovering over you, entirely too close. You can see the way your juices cover his lips. He eyes you greedily and it’s the hottest thing in the world. It’s even hotter when he lets you pull him down on top of you and kiss him. You moan into his mouth when he ruts his hard length against your thigh. 

When he pulls back, you know that you lost whatever game you’re playing. “Doesn’t seem like you hate me.” 

“Just please fuck me,” you say, completely breathless. 

“Anything you want,” he says. 

You gasp when he leans forward again to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. Everything about him seems so in control. Yet, you can feel how much he wants you, too. It’s obvious that you’re not alone in wanting this and that he’s just better at controlling the situation. 

Somehow, as he’s kissing you, he manages to spread your legs apart underneath him. It’s embarrassing the way you chase his lips when he pulls back. Or it would be if you didn’t meet his eyes to see all the desire reflecting back at you. He repositions so that he’s between your legs again and lines himself up at your entrance. Chan runs his tip through your folds while he watches for your reaction. It’s all you can do to stop yourself from wiggling to urge him to work faster. Nothing he does is fast, though, and why would this be any different. Slowly, he presses himself into you. Even as you’re begging him for more, he inches into you instead of snapping his hips forward. 

Finally, after what seems like minutes (and is probably only seconds), he’s fully buried and it’s the best feeling in the world. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as he adjusts his position. Then, he pulls almost all the way about before snapping back in and your mind goes blank again. Like nothing else exists apart from the two of you, the sound of his skin on yours, and the words shared between you. Praise spills from Chan’s lips as you’re just asking for more and more of him. 

This time, he doesn’t bring you right to the edge only to pull you back. He picks up his pace and has you coming so hard that you see stars without warning. You’re so thankful that you don’t immediately realize that he doesn’t pull out of you. He stills himself inside you and peppers gentle kisses all over your face as you work through the orgasm. 

He’s definitely not so gentle once the aftershocks work through your body. 

In one motion, he has you in his arms and in a completely different position. It’s a level of strength and speed you’re not expecting. You’re sitting up now and about to protest that you don’t have the energy to fuck him like this, when he does the work for you. Even though you’re straddling his lap, he plants his feet and thrusts into you. It’s a slightly slower pace than you’re expecting. Just enough that you feel the tension building, but not enough for it to do anything. At least for you. You’re not sure about Chan. 

You can’t help it. All you want to do is kiss him so that he knows how good this feels. Not that he really needs more of an indication. You think he can probably read your body pretty well. The first time with someone new is usually awkward. This has been anything but. He knows exactly what you need and just how far he can push you before it’s too much.

And that really does seem true. You’re just about to go into overstimulated territory when he changes the position again. You get the briefest of breaks for him to settle behind you. It could be as innocent as cuddling until he hikes your leg up and presses his length into you without warning.

“Chan, jesus fuck,” you cry out. 

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” he coos into your ear. “Can you be good for just a little longer?”

“Yes,” you pant. 

“Even if I fuck you hard?” he asks, experimentally picking up his pace.

“Yes, please, just…fuck,” you yell out as he snaps into you harder.

“So perfect,” he murmurs into your skin. 

His thrusts immediately get faster and you can tell he’s ready to stop dragging it out. He’s still doing more than his share of the work and it’s insane to realize how much stamina he seems to have. The new angle allows him to hit you deeper than before. You’re already so worked up that it’s not long before he’s pushing you into your second orgasm. This time, he follows right behind you, erratically thrusting as his breath stutters by your ear. 

He collapses behind you, but still holds you close against his chest. Your breathing matches his without even thinking about it. Neither one of you really needs to say anything to know that it was something completely unexpected. You can’t remember ever having better sex than with him. Leave it to Chan to ruin you for anyone else that could possibly try to come after him.

Eventually, Chan pulls himself out and off the bed. He holds out his hand to help you into the bathroom with him. You make a joke about how you don’t have another round in you and his smile is instant. His features go soft when he says he just wants to help you clean up. 

(That doesn’t hold true for the next morning since he insists you should sleep over. You may be incredibly sore afterwards. You also know that you don’t care. In that moment, you think you would let Chan fuck you senseless for the rest of your life without complaining. Who cares if you’re a little sore? You’ve never felt so connected to someone in your entire life. And he just happens to be one of the gods of Olympus.)

Things seem to fall into place quickly for you and Chan after he shares his past with you. It’s like the last two puzzle pieces in an absurdly complicated puzzle. One of those ones where the pieces aren’t in the standard square shapes. Yet, now that you’re perfectly slotted together, it’s like you’ve been that way your whole lives. The two of you are together more often than you’re not. Late nights exploring or staying up until the early hours of the morning talking. Lazy mornings wrapped up in the covers of the bed (where you actually get Chan to spend more time away from the aquarium than he ever has before). Chan doesn’t even really have time to overthink anything.

His biggest win comes when you finally admit that you’re ready to leave your boring job and come to work at the aquarium full time. That only takes a few weeks after he tells you that you were a sea nymph in a former life. He’s still even a little at the complete lack of pushback on it. You accept it just as easily as you accept that he was Poseidon once upon a time. And you’re not accepting it in the way someone does to pacify a crazy person. That much is clear with how much more time you spend anywhere that Chan is. Somehow, the rest of Chan’s staff doesn’t even seem to comment on how quickly you become inseparable. Soonyoung seems to be smiling even more than usual (a feat Chan didn’t think possible). But, otherwise everyone just accepts the new normal. Everyone seems thrilled to have you around more permanently and that makes Chan’s heart constrict. 

He doesn’t have time to think about any of it. Until he does, very suddenly, think about all the feelings you bring up in him.

Chan is careful with relationships. He’s friendly with his staff, but they’re not really friends (despite Soonyoung’s best efforts). He doesn’t get to know anyone at any of the places he shops or have any hobbies where he interacts with people. It can get lonely if Chan thinks too closely about it, but what is the alternative? People’s lives are finite, measurable. Chan’s is not. At least, it hasn’t been yet. There are no signs he’s slowing down over the many centuries he’s been through. Then there’s you. You who are very much human. Though, it’s been a long time since he’s come across another reincarnated Olympian. There isn’t a rule book for how those lives go and there’s never been one that Chan stuck by long enough to find out. 

The real question, though, is whether he’s willing to stick around this time to see how it works. Is he willing to risk everything only to figure out that you’re merely a mortal? That you’re going to fall victim, if you’re lucky, to the curse all humans succumb to? That’s if you’re lucky enough to live to old age and something else doesn’t happen before then. Human life is so fragile. It’s a lot to process. More so since he’s not really talking to you about how he’s feeling. 

You notice. Of course you notice. Chan starts to get a little more distant as weeks turn into months. He’s still physically present with you and he still tries to act like everything is fine. But, he can feel it in the shift of your moods. Doubt creeps in and he gets snippets of your feelings or even your thoughts. It isn’t fair and he knows that it’s not. He knows he has to talk to you instead of just acting like everything is normal. 

“Are you ready to talk to me yet?” you ask one evening when you’re sitting on his couch with your feet in his lap. 

He stops scrolling through something on his phone and looks over at you. Somehow, you always seem to know when it’s best to apply just a little pressure. Knows his moods and senses when he’s ready to talk about something. There’s no use in acting like he doesn’t know what you mean.

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” he starts and you smile.

“Oh, I know that,” you assure him. That makes him laugh. It’s you all over. 

“It’s just…I don’t usually let myself get close to anyone,” he starts and your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” you say with an attempt at a joke, though it doesn’t quite land.

“I think we both know you’re special,” he says quickly to reassure you. “It’s just…well, there’s a reason for that. Human life is so fleeting.”

“Ah, yes,” you say with a wry smile, “because you’re ancient.”

“Enough,” he chastises without any real heat. 

“Sorry,” you say and throw up your arms.

“I am kind of ancient, though. Not in this body since I’m always changing forms, but in mind. I’ve been around a long time and you…” he says and trails off.

“You’re so sure I have an expiration date?” you ask.

“You’re human,” he says simply.

“And also have the soul of a reincarnated sea nymph,” you remind him. As if he could ever forget. 

“I know,” he concedes. “But I don’t know what that means for your…”

“Life expectancy?” you offer. There’s something almost detached and also calming about the way you say it. “You can’t say for sure that I won’t live beyond a normal human life, either.”

“No, I can’t,” he says. “I’ve never wanted to stick around another reincarnated soul the way I can’t seem to let you out of my sight.”

“Doesn’t that mean it’s worth at least considering?” you ask. 

There’s nothing desperate or emotional about the way you approach the conversation. It’s all based in fact and the information in front of you. As much as you and Chan like to go out on dates, you also like to sit with him while he tries to do research. Both of you want to understand what your soul means for the rest of your body. You want to understand why sometimes he can feel your mood or even hear some of your louder thoughts. It’s fun when you can control it and send something disruptive towards Chan. Fun for you, at least. He doesn’t always appreciate the image of what you want to do to him while he’s trying to do something at work. 

So, you go through all the knowns with him again. Go over everything that you’ve learned. Go through the questions you have unanswered and where there might be more information. You talk things through logically in a way that feels familiar to him. Chan finds himself getting lost in his amazement at your brain and the way you process information. It’s also incredible to him to watch you work through a problem. It lulls him into a place that he hasn’t been in since…

And that’s when it clicks. That’s when he realizes. You’re not just a reincarnated sea nymph. No, it’s much deeper than that. He knows your soul more intimately than he knows his own. He can’t believe that he didn’t see it right away. Can’t believe he’s had you in his bed for months now without realizing.

“You’re not listening anymore,” you comment. You don’t seem upset, only curious. It’s like you want to know where his mind goes.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says and you wave it off. “It’s just, well, I figured out who you used to be.” 

“Uh,” you say, clearly missing a piece. “Yeah? A reincarnated sea nymph? We’ve already covered this.” 

“No,” he disagrees. That makes you raise your eyebrows. “Well, you are, but you’re also more than that. Your soul, it’s…”

“What is it, Chan?” you ask, full attention focusing on him. 

“I should have known. You feel so familiar, like I’ve known you for years,” he says and it’s like he’s talking to himself. “It’s not just some ordinary sea nymph’s soul…”

“Yes, because sea nymphs are so ordinary,” you say with a scoff. “Like people every day are just coming across sea n-”

“It’s Amphitrite’s soul,” he finishes and that stops you mid sentence. Your eyes lock onto his, wide and wondering. 

“Amphitrite? As in Goddess of the sea, most prominent of the sea nymphs and wife of…” she says and can’t seem to finish the sentence.

“Poseidon. The one true love of my life, yes,” he says. 

If you think anything of him referring to Amphitrite as the one true love of his life, you don’t say anything. You go into a contemplative silence. Like if you think hard enough, you may be able to remember her or the relationship with Poseidon. Who knows? Maybe you can. Try as he might, Chan can’t seem to think of a single instance where something like this has happened before. Doesn’t remember someone like Hera returning in this way. He also can’t think of any reason why you would return now, after all this time. Unless this is just the first time he’s found you. There are far more questions than answers. 

“This…changes things,” you say.

“Does it?” he asks. 

“Doesn’t it?” you immediately return. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s like it suddenly makes sense in a way I wasn’t expecting. But, it also feels…more complicated.” 

“Complicated, how? I mean, you were in love with Amphitrite and I assume she, or I, was also in love with you,” you say. “Doesn’t that explain this pull we have to each other?” 

“Our relationship was incredibly complicated,” he says softly. “I have…many regrets about how I handled things when it came to her. And I also can’t wrap my brain around her reappearing after so many years or what that means for you.”

“Why don’t we just start at the beginning? Tell me about your relationship,” you prompt.

“There are parts that were ugly,” he says without meeting your eye. 

The couch shifts and dips as you get closer to him. You lift his chin up gently so he’s looking at you. “The fact that you can admit parts were ugly or that you have regrets shows you’ve learned. So, tell me the whole story and then we’ll go from there.” 

So, he starts talking. 

It starts at the beginning. He was at a celebration when he saw Amphitrite dancing among the other Nereids, the daughters of Nereus, who was also known as the Old Man of the Sea. There had been other consorts before her, but he was instantly smitten. She symbolized everything beautiful and kind about the sea. Everything that he could ever want. So, he approached her father before ever approaching her and asked for her hand. Her father was, understandably, thrilled. It seemed like there was no better match than to allow Poseidon himself to marry one of his daughters. In hindsight, that was absolutely the wrong way to go about it. She should have been given a say in her own life rather than treated like property by her father and the man who claimed to love her. 

Chan talks about what he can remember of their courtship as honestly as he can. From his perspective, everything went wonderfully. After all, why shouldn’t she have been thrilled that he wanted to marry her. Once he had nothing but time to think back on what he had done, he realized that she had not seemed all that interested. It was more like she was going through the motions because she had to. He tried to include her in everything that he could so she would see what her life could be like. Maybe that had been the wrong choice. But, she was a natural when it came to hosting or offering opinions in meetings. At the time, it made him happy to see how well she settled in. Now, it just felt like she had been forced into a life she never wanted.

As the wedding itself got closer, she fled to the far reaches of the ocean. It was a dolphin scout of his that finally managed to find her. He never knew what his scout said to her that made her return. He only knew what he told the scout. They never spoke about it once she came back. She simply returned, assured him she had only been nervous about how important he was, and said she wanted to get married still. So, he also acted like nothing happened, which he knows was as wrong as he could have been. He does think that he tried to be a better partner to her after that, though he’s not sure he succeeded. When he had to make decisions between what might be best for her and what might be best for his position, he chose himself. He also chose the sea over her when he had to make those choices. It was never fair to her. 

Somehow, through all of that, he did really grow to love her. He valued her beyond what he showed. He appreciated her for her unfailing kindness and her insistence when she knew she was right. He appreciated her wit and her mind. He appreciated the way that she was never afraid to tell him what she thought or to let him know when he was making the wrong decision. He appreciated that she didn’t just bend over backwards for him or fawn over him. He only realized after she was gone that he never appreciated her the way that she deserved to be appreciated. Once he lost her, he realized that he should have done anything in the world to protect her. He realized he should have given her the entire sea and made her the ruler because she was far smarter than he had realized. 

You only listen intently without interrupting. In the few moments where Chan looks at you, he struggles to figure out what you’re thinking. Not that you won’t tell him. He knows you will. It’s just very daunting to speak that long without you interjecting. When he stops speaking, you’re still quiet for a moment. 

“I think…Chan, I think I’m starting to remember,” you say with wide eyes. 

And that’s the last thing he expects to hear. He figures you may tell him that he’s horrible for putting someone he claims to have loved through that. Or you could say that it sounds far-fetched to think she’s not just a sea nymph, but a specific nymph that he was deeply in love with. He doesn’t expect for you to look at him in wonder and say you’re remembering. That’s another unknown in this entire mess of a situation. 

Before he can consider if this is something that should even be possible, your lips crash into his. There are so many emotions behind that kiss that he can’t begin to process. There’s longing and a long-forgotten love. There’s excitement about returned memories. There’s the sparks that always fly between you two. The mix of the established feelings with ones Chan never expected to feel again is startling. So, he just lets his mind wander. He lets the feeling of kissing you consume him so thoroughly that it pushes any other conversation out the window. All that exists in that moment is the two of you, however you want to define that. 

The excitement of finding out a long forgotten identity wears off far quicker than you expect it to. Not that you have any frame of reference for this sort of thing. But, surely it should last longer than this. Longer than it takes for you to fall into bed with Chan again. Longer than it takes for him to worship your body as he’s done before and for him to bring you to an orgasm so good it has you screaming. Somehow, in the post-sex haze, he doesn’t realize that you’re quieter than usual. Perhaps that’s a blessing. He kisses you so softly, so sweet and tells you that he’s going to do some research. That’s fine, you insist, because you want to get back home to really get a good night’s sleep. It seems unspoken that he wants to let you process.

But…well, you’re not really sure if you’re still okay with the information. It’s like having sex this time triggered a new flood of memories. Some come across as clearly as if it was something you directly experienced. Others come through more as feelings than anything else. And it’s a lot. Overwhelming in a way that nothing else has been. It’s how you expected to react to finding out that all those myths you were so drawn to were actually real. That feels easy to accept, especially now. Remembering is something else entirely. Because remembering Amphitrite’s experiences as your own just feels complicated. 

Maybe it’s wrong to think of her as a separate person if her soul lives within you. That part isn’t hard to accept, not when you can feel it. The hard part is accepting the feelings about Chan. The memory pushes back on you calling him that. Accepting is also the wrong word. The hard part is reconciling the person you’ve gotten to know with the memories that come flooding back. 

Then, almost as if on cue, that whispering voice returns. It reminds you of how you felt when you first met Chan. Of the distaste you had without being able to place it. Which is true, isn’t it? You didn’t like him without any reason beyond just a feeling. The voice presses memories onto you. Things you actually experienced with Chan mixed in with scenes between Poseidon and Amphitrite. The more you see, the more it feels like your own memories. Like something that you took part in directly. 

It’s putting it mildly to say that things are complicated. There is clear affection there for the person that Amphitrite got to know. Although it’s clear she did not love Poseidon from the beginning, she grew into much stronger feelings. Yet, she can’t separate those fully. She can’t say for sure that the feelings would develop on their own. Did she just love him? Or was it because she, at times, had little contact with anyone outside their palace? Though, that was largely her own choice as things went on. There were too many things to do at home to leave. And there was too much unrest.

Yes, it feels complicated. Now your own memories or the past few months mingle with decades of memories from someone else. You can’t decide if you want to push your own memories aside to make room for the returning ones or keep them side by side. Your new memories don’t really seem to fit, though. Which isn’t surprising. The person you know isn’t the same one that Amphitrite knew. He’s grown in ways that she can scarcely understand or imagine. He’s thoughtful and considerate and much more mature. That doesn’t sit perfectly with the memories. Although, you can tell that there’s a part of the lingering voice that appreciates the growth. Maybe even feels a little responsible for it. Wants to believe that she’s part of the reason he made the changes. 

By the time you make it back to your apartment, your head feels like it’s going to split open. You’re no closer to any answers about what you want to do. No closer to reconciling incredibly complex feelings. No closer to the next step. That’s fine, though. All you can really do now is let yourself drift off to sleep and revisit 

The morning, unfortunately, doesn’t bring answers. You’re not sure how to approach Chan other than to ask for time to process your feelings. That seems like as good a place to start as any because it’s a lot to take in. He must know that. Surely he’ll understand. Even though you seemingly accepted the news yesterday, it’s a new day today. And your brain is fighting to catch up. 

You’re trying to figure out how to approach the conversation with Chan when you make your way through the apartment. A piece of paper by your front door catches your eye and you approach it. You pick up the envelope and recognize the writing on the front of it as Chan’s. There’s something so impossibly him about the gesture. Of course he would write a letter instead of…wait. A moment too late, your brain catches up. Why would Chan be writing you a letter? What changed?

Opening the letter feels close to the last thing you want to do. But, you know that you need to just open it to see what’s going on. See if anything changes. 

A lot can change overnight, it seems. Chan fills the letter with apologies for things you can’t even begin to understand. He’s apologizing to you and also to Amphitrite. It seems he got to the conclusion much faster than you, which shouldn’t be surprising. He’s had centuries, apparently, to learn and to spot things others may never notice. That’s especially clear as you read through his letter, now. 

Getting past the general apologies, you find more specific apologies. He’s incredibly sorry, but he’s going to be leaving for a while. He knows that it’s not fair to you, but it’s something that he’s got to do. At least he acknowledges that it should ultimately be your decision on how to proceed with the relationship. He can’t let you do that without more answers to his questions. He needs to know how it’s possible for Amphitrite’s soul to have found its way into your body. He needs to understand what that means for your own mortality. It’s selfish, he admits, so incredibly selfish, but he can’t move forward with you, even if that’s what you want, without knowing more. He can’t watch as you age and he doesn’t. Can’t grow to love you more and more only to know you have an expiration date. It’s cold, he knows, to say it that way. It’s also the way he’s going to approach it. The whole letter is filled with apologies and acknowledgements followed by buts. 

Chan goes on to say that he’s going looking for his brother, Zeus. He’s the only one that might be able to help them understand what’s happening. The problem is that he hasn’t seen his brother in centuries and doesn’t entirely know how to find him, or if he’s even still surviving. He just has to trust that he’s out there somewhere, going through the same motions as Chan and chugging forward in the only way either of them know how. Somehow this tidbit is a lot to process. Accepting the existence of Poseidon was easy. Maybe that’s because of your own past. Accepting Zeus is something else entirely. Some of that stems from your own disbelief. Most seems to come from Amphitrite’s complicated feelings about her brother-in-law.

Just as you’re about to put the letter down in frustration, you see the postscript. Chan asks you to help his staff look after the aquarium until he returns. He knows that it’s not fair to ask. He knows you may even say no. Your heart tightens at the thought of the animals without Chan. Now that you know who he is, you know that they’ll miss him when he’s not around. You don’t have powers the way he does, though. And it’s his choice to just leave on a whim to chase answers for a relationship that may not even be there when he returns. 

Well, two can play this game, you think. It may not be a fully rational thought. It may not even be fair. Before you can overthink it, you send a text to Soonyoung saying that you’ll be out of town for the next few weeks, at least. You just tell him that you have some things to work through and leave it at that. In the meantime, you throw things haphazardly into a suitcase and you’re out the door before even getting a response.

Your letter from Chan stays sitting on your table as you rush out of the apartment without a second thought. All you know is that you’re going to let Amphitrite guide you on a journey of your own to find missing memories before you make any more decisions. 

It seems like both of you have a lot to figure out before you see each other next.

[jjsloverre]

topia twins

pairing: bf!jj x pouge!reader & john b x sarah

in which… pouge!reader and sarah find out they’re pregnant at the same time

contains… pure fluff, cursing

__________________________________________________________

you were freaking out. two pregnancy tests. two… both have the two lines on each test. it read pregnant. the first person who came to mind first was sarah. you frantically called her, begging her to come over.

“hey hey! what’s up y/n? why are you so upset? what’s wrong?” sarah asked you. she wiped the tears from your eyes. she sat beside you as you explained to her what happened. “um… i’m… i’m pregnant.” you whispered. sarah’s face lit up with excitement. “wait really? are you serious?” you nod, starting to feel the excitement also.

“well i guess it’s time to reveal that i’m pregnant too huh?” sarah told you in confidence. you couldn’t believe it. “no way! i’m so happy for you!” you exclaimed. so did sarah. “and i’m happy for you! it’s probably scary as hell but it’s ok, we’ll get through this! i assume you haven’t told jj huh?” you shook your head. the truth is: you weren’t sure if you even wanted to tell jj. he’s expressed to you that the last thing he would want is a kid, and boom you’re pregnant. if you’re being honest, it terrified you. overthinking that he would leave you. “hey listen, i know you’re scared but he deserves to know.” sarah explained to you.

“yeah i’ll tell him. but can we talk about how we’re both pregnant at the same time? like how the hell!” you laughed. sarah shook her head wirh a genuine smile. “girl! you know good and well that our men are not trained enough in the ‘pulling out’ department. i mean i can’t even remember the last time john b-” you quickly cut her off. “sarah cameron do not finish that sentence!”

sarah smirked as she closed her mouth. “there goes my best friends beautiful smile!” your smile grows even bigger. “sarah.. what if jj doesn’t want this baby with me? like what if he asks me to get rid of it or.. if he’d leave me?” sarah grabbed your hands, interwinding with hers. “remember what jj told you when you talked him about how bad your parents were?” you nodded, then she continued. “he told you that you’d be a great mother right? and then proceeded to help you understand that he’d try to be a wonderful father even if he didn’t want kids.”

“yeah i remember that..” she nodded. “so you’re gonna grow a pair and tell your boyfriend the good news? or we could tell them together?”

“they would be shook!” sarah giggled. “indeed they would, so we should do it?” your smile grows, and you nodded. “hell yeah!”

♡

a week has went by since you and sarah found out you both were pregnant. jj and john b have been on a treasure hunting trip and just now gotten back. sarah texting you, telling you to come over.

my sarahh ❤️: “HURRY! THEYRE HERE AND WAITING FOR U!!!!”

♡

you drove your way to the chateau, feeling excitement, nervousness, and dread. what if he didn’t want you or the baby? what if convinced you to get rid of it because he’s not ready? you quickly pushed those thoughts aside as you finally pulled in. you walked in the chateau, bracing yourself. your eyes first laid on jj, his whole body lights up with happiness. “hey princess! fuck i missed you so much!” you gets up and hugs you, and kisses you. “you look… different. but so much more beautiful!” your smile grows and you sit him back down. “uh so i have something to tell you.”

sarah nods as well. “yeah john b i have something to tell you too.” the boys look up confused. “uh you’re not collectively breaking up with us right?” jj asked. sarah shook her head. “no dummy, just let us talk!” john b raised his eyebrow, letting us have the floor. “so um…” sarah started. then you finished. “we’re pregnant. like both of us.” the boys looked shocked. utterly shocked. jj tried to speak, but the words died on his tongue. “how the hell is that possible?” john b asked. “it’s possible because obviously both of you are incapable of pulling out?” sarah stated, the clear obvious.

“i’m gonna be a dad? like for real? no wonder why your tits got bigger when you sent me pictures, and wayyy more suckable! fuck i’m so happy… i’m gonna be a fucking dad! whoo!” jj exclaimed he jumped for joy and spun you around. john b did the same, kissing sarah all over her face. “we’re gonna be dads AND uncles! this is amazing we gotta tell everyone about this!” john b mumbled in sarah’s neck.

“told you he’d be happy y/n.” sarah whispered. jj looked up at you with a confused look. “you thought i wouldn’t be happy? baby why on earth would you ever think i wouldn’t be happy you’re carrying my child? i mean unless you cheated or-” sarah cut him off before he could babble about dumb scenarios. “jj!” he stopped talking and nodded. “alright fine. but i’m really happy sweetheart, and i love you, and our baby. and i really want the baby to be a girl.”

“i love you.”

“i love you more! since i know that you’re pregnant, we both have a bedtime! we love you fellow pouges, we need our rest!” with that. you both went up to your room and snuggled together in the bed.

__________________________________________________________

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @aaliyahsturniolo @masongetinmybed @kieeslove @superlegend216 @bee-43 @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @always-reading @chalahyung01 @eddxemxnson @leaseyes @slut4rafecameronn @maybankslover @sttaejoon-blog @imsiriuslyreal @glitterybombshell @idontknowwhyimhere33 @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees @moonywhisp3rs

[ghostcam4812]

Dandy's World Goob Redesign!!!

(My version/AU) GOOB!!!!!! Our favorite fluffy silly… Remember these r just my headcanons and you don't have to agree! ^_^

Goob! The fabric craft sibling to his paper craft sister! They both take on slight jester/clown/circus themes with silly makeup and and bright colors, though his sister takes it further with detailed clothes (ref soon!)- and he himself is also one of the largest, tallest Toons! (not Twisted) He is kind of comically strong lol.

Goob himself is often mistaken for akin to a child, and often treated as such by other Toons. This is far from the case, as the truth is he just struggles with understanding things, communicating, things other Toons may consider to be common sense or easy. Goob just has specific needs! Goob has learned to not feel bad about this because of his sister and friends, who encourage him to be himself, despite what some might think about him. He is an adult, a grown Toon! He sometimes feels bad, wishing he was... smarter, but then he remembers what his sister says; and how she loves him just as he is. And that makes him happy again. <:} In serious situations, he is very capable, and very dependable! He knows how to save his friends, because he understands danger and is actually very selfless. He's a bit of a toon-pleaser, bending over backwards to help everyone when he can. He would gladly sacrifice himself in a heartbeat for his friends, but his sister above all. And no matter what goes wrong, he knows he always has his sister to help him, right?

P.S. @peepawpie69 I'll answer your Goob request with more art!!! MY ASK BOX IS OPEN FOR REQUESTS! DANDYS WORLD REQUESTS COME ONN!!!! (OCs included!)

[practicalsuccubus]

I am sad so Incorrect Quotes Part 6

Prunella: We need to open this locked door. Deacon, give me your credit card. Deacon: Here. Prunella, pocketing it: Thanks. Chase, break down the door. - Deacon, after finding out about the Kiss: So, are you two dating now? Chase and Nox: Yes. Deacon: Why? Chase: I happen to find Buddy very appealing. Deacon: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Buddy. - Prunella: What's a word that's a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'? Deacon: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated- Chase: Smad. - Nox: Love is weakness and an evolutionary mistake. Violet: You are literally making a Valentine’s day card for that boy. Nox, pointing his hot glue gun towards Violet: You’re on thin fucking ice. - Chase, panicking: I lost the Keys! Deacon: How did you LOSE the Keys?! Chase: To be fair, they are very small. - Nox: sneezes Chase, hiding from Nox: Bless you. Nox: …God? - Chase: See, Buddy, the way the whole boyfriend thing works is you have to tell each other the deep stuff. Nox: ""The deep stuff?"" Uh oh, like what? Chase: Like… What's your favourite colour? Nox: Well, now you've stepped over the line. - Nox: I see no reason why I can’t be both the love interest and the antagonist. - Nox: I'm dropping hints that I like Chase. Earlier

Chase: Hey Buddy! Nox: I can't stand you. - Nox: I wanna be evil Violet: Unfortunately, you were not very evil. Nox: :( Nox: >:( Nox: I'm evil, right? Nox: Babe, I'm evil, right? Chase, offhandedly as he turns a page in his book research: Mhm. Your evil laugh is terrifying and your schemes are despicable. - Nox: Look me straight in my eyes and tell me the truth! Chase, to himself, sweating: How can I look in those eyes and still be straight...? - Chase about Ex-Libris: Here’s the plan: We go in, I start hitting people hard in the face, see where it takes us - Chase: Sometimes Deacon says, “Chase, what do you think you’re doing?” But that just means stop. He doesn’t actually want to know my thought process. - Prunella: Don't worry. Chase likes your butt and fancy hair. I know. I read his diary.

Nox, touching his hair: He thinks it's fancy?

[twistedreads]

Are you gonna stay the night? Nick Leister x Black Fem

summary— It’s your first time spending the night over Nick’s house since you guys started dating. What could go wrong?

Black Fem reader x Nick Leister My fault: London

warnings— none really, cute, lovey

a/n— I don’t know why I haven’t seen stories about Nick from my fault London, he’s literally so fine.

Masterlist

The smell of tomato sauce and freshly chopped basil filled Nick’s sleek kitchen as I leaned against the counter, watching him struggle with the dough. His golden-brown hands, dusted with flour, pressed into the soft mixture as he furrowed his brows in concentration.

“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered in his distinct British accent, his dark curls bouncing as he glanced up at me. The frosted tips of his hair caught the warm glow of the kitchen lights, making him look effortlessly attractive.

I giggled, rolling up my sleeves and stepping beside him. “You’re acting like this is rocket science. It’s just dough.”

He scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me, love, but I didn’t see you volunteering to knead this. Your job is just standing there lookin’ sexy.”

I rolled my eyes playfully before reaching over to press my hands into the dough with his. The warmth of his skin met mine, and for a moment, we paused, both realizing how close we were. His eyes flickered to mine, a small smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned in. “If you wanted to hold my hand, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

I huffed, shoving him with my hip and he lays a smack on my ass which causes me to let out an unexpected yelp.

“Shut up and focus.”

We continued working side by side, stretching and spinning the dough—well, I tried to spin it, but it ended up flopping onto the counter in a very ungraceful fashion. Nick burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “That was tragic. Absolutely tragic.”

“Okay, since you’re such a pro, you do it.” I crossed my arms, challenging him.

With an arrogant smirk, he grabbed the dough and attempted to toss it in the air. And just like fate had written it, it landed right on his head.

My laughter echoed through the kitchen as he stood there, dough draped over his curls, looking absolutely ridiculous. He peeled it off and glared at me, but the twinkle in his eyes gave away his amusement. “You think that’s funny, yeah?”

“I know it’s funny.” I doubled over, wiping a tear from my eye.

Nick hummed, a mischievous glint flashing across his face before he reached for the bag of flour and—before I could react—puffed a handful at me. The fine white powder exploded into the air, coating my black tank top and shorts.

I gasped. “Nickolas Leister, I know you didn’t just—”

Before I could finish, he had already darted to the other side of the kitchen, laughing. “Oh, I did.”

It was war. I grabbed the bag and chased him around the island, flicking flour at him while he dodged, knocking over a bottle of olive oil in the process.

After a good five minutes of absolute chaos, we finally called a truce, panting as we surveyed the mess we’d made. “Okay, this is a disaster,” I admitted, brushing flour from my hair.

Nick grinned, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around my waist. “Maybe. But we had fun, yeah?” His thumb traced lazy circles on my hip.

I smiled, leaning into his touch. “Yeah, we did.”

We eventually got back to making the food, watching a TikTok video step by step as we added toppings to the dough before sliding it into the oven.

When the timer went off we pulled the pizza out of the oven, making sure to let it cool for a moment before cutting into it. The crust was golden, the cheese perfectly melted, and the smell alone had my mouth watering.

Nick grabbed a slice, handing it to me before taking one for himself. We exchanged a glance, almost nervous. “Moment of truth,” he muttered.

I nodded, holding the slice up dramatically. “If we poisoned ourselves, at least we go out together.”

He smirked. “Romantic.”

At the same time, we took our first bites.

Silence.

Then, we slowly turned to look at each other, our eyes widening as the flavors hit.

“Wait…” I mumbled, mouth still full. “This is actually—”

“—fire,” Nick finished, voice filled with genuine shock.

“We snapped,” I gasped.

Nick nodded in agreement. “Nah, we bodied this. We might as well open a restaurant.”

Without thinking, we both put our pizza down and smacked a victorious high-five, laughing as the sound echoed through the kitchen.

Nick leaned back in his chair, taking another bite. “This is dangerous, love. We cook like this, I might just wife you up.”

I grinned, chewing. “Say less. ‘Cause I could eat this every day.”

He shook his head, reaching over to steal a piece from my slice.

“Oi!” I swatted his hand.

“Sharing is caring, innit?” he teased, dodging my glare.

We spent the next few minutes feeding each other bites, laughing when Nick deliberately gave me too big of a piece and I nearly choked. He just sat there, smirking as I glared at him.

After dinner, we headed upstairs to his bathroom to take a shower. Stripping from our clothes we step inside. Steam curled around us as hot water rained down, enveloping us in warmth. The sound of the shower filled the space, but underneath it, I could still hear Nick humming softly, his accent making the tune sound even sweeter.

I reached for the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into my palm. “Turn around,” I murmured, motioning for him to face away from me.

Nick arched a brow but obeyed, water cascading down his golden brown skin. His hair, usually fluffy and styled, were now damp and weighed down.

“You’re gonna wash my hair for me?” he asked, amused.

I nodded, running my fingers through his curls, massaging the shampoo into his scalp. “Yeah. You got all that flour in it from earlier.”

He let out a low, satisfied hum, closing his eyes. “Mm, I could get used to this.”

I giggled.

His shoulders relaxed under my touch as I worked the lather through his thick curls. When I gently scratched his scalp with my nails, he let out the softest sigh.

“Feels good?” I teased.

“Too good.” His voice was practically a purr.

Once I rinsed the shampoo out, he turned to face me, droplets of water running down his sharp jawline. His hands found my waist, pulling me close. “Your turn,” he murmured, reaching for the shampoo.

I let him tilt my head back under the stream as he squeezed the shampoo into his hands, then started working it into my deep dark curls. His fingers were gentle, slow, his touch sending tiny shivers down my spine.

“‘M I doin’ it right?” he asked, lips quirking up at the corners.

I nodded, closing my eyes. “Yeah… it feels nice.”

His hands moved in soothing circles, the warmth of his touch spreading through me. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. Then another, just above my brow. “You smell good,” he murmured, his voice low.

I smiled, cracking one eye open. “It’s the shampoo, dummy.”

He chuckled. “Nah. It’s just you.”

I felt my face warm—not from the water, but from the way he was looking at me.

As he rinsed my hair, his fingers brushed over my cheeks, tilting my chin up so he could press a lingering kiss to my lips. It was slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that made my knees feel weak.

“Careful,” I mumbled against his lips. “You’re tryna make me fall in love with you or something?”

He smirked, brushing a wet curl from my face. “Too late for that, sweetheart.”

I laughed, flicking water at him playfully. “Okay, smooth talker, finish helping me rinse.”

We finished washing each other up, our touches gentle, our giggles echoing softly between the tile walls. Every now and then, he’d steal another kiss, whispering something cheeky, something sweet.

By the time we stepped out, wrapped in fluffy towels, my heart was so full it felt like it might burst.

“I think that might’ve been my new favorite shower,” Nick murmured, pressing a final kiss to my shoulder.

I grinned, nudging him. “Good. ‘Cause I plan on making you wash my hair every time now.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

I winked, looking at him through the mirror. “And you love it.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, pulling me close. “I really do.”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his damp chest. “Me too.”

After drying off, I pulled out two face masks from my bag. “Here. These will make our skin glow.”

Nick looked at the packet, then back at me. “You’re tryin’ to turn me into a beauty influencer?”

I snorted. “Shut up and put it on.”

We applied the masks, his face scrunching up as the cool gel touched his skin. “This feels weird.”

“You look great,” I reassured him, snapping a picture of him.

He peeked over my shoulder. “Oi! Let me see.”

We took a few more couple selfies, laughing at how ridiculous we looked before getting dressed. Then, as the masks set, we baked cookies, with Nick stealing bites of cookie dough until I smacked his hand away.

When the cookies were ready, we curled up on the couch with a plate, agreeing to put on Bad Boys for Life.

“Oooh,” I grinned when Armando came on screen. “That man is fine.”

Nick scoffed, pulling me closer. “Seriously?”

“What? He is.”

He made a face. “He’s not even that good-looking.”

I smirked, turning to him. “Honestly… you kinda look like him.”

Nick blinked, then sat up slightly. “Wait, do I?”

I hummed, dragging my fingers through his curls. “Mmhmm. You both got the curly hair, the jawline, the whole broody-but-still-pretty-boy thing.”

Nick smirked, clearly pleased. “Well, if that’s the case, you should be callin’ me fine.”

I rolled my eyes. “I do, dummy.”

Satisfied, he pulled me back against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

As the movie played on, our eyelids grew heavy. We eventually dragged ourselves upstairs, slipping under his covers.

In the dim glow of his bedside lamp, he brushed a stray hair from my face. “Tonight was fun,” he murmured.

I nodded, reaching up to trace his jaw. “It was perfect.”

Nick leaned down, capturing my lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His fingers caressed my waist as he deepened it slightly before pulling away, resting his forehead against mine.

“Sleep, love,” he whispered.

With our fingers intertwined, warm beneath the covers, we drifted off, wrapped in the comfort of each other.

[carriesthewind]

I saw these tags on my post about Mangione, and I thought they were really interesting, and want to talk about them:

(not tagging the poster b/c I don't know if they want the attention)

I obviously disagree with them about the OP of that post intentionally lying, but I do think they are describing a real and common path that many people fall down. I seriously considered whether I thought the OP of that post fell into this category, until I gathered sufficient evidence to convince me that they were lying. (Also to be clear - it's fine that the tagger disagrees with me. People can look at the same evidence and come to different conclusions.)

But these tags made me think: under what circumstances is it accurate and useful to describe as lying the act of repeating speculation as truth?

Because I think in scenarios like the original posts about Mangione I was responding to, it could arguably still be accurate and useful to say that OP was lying.

Because when we are talking about intentional deception in the spreading of misinformation, there are two layers. The first layer is the facts themselves. The tagger is arguing that the OP of the Mangione post may have honestly believed the false information they posted was true. And I disagree on that point, but I also think there is a second layer of the lie. Because the OP was presenting themselves as a reliable source of information, as someone who had facts underlying their assertions.

To take this away from social media for a moment, consider the following example: As a 6 year old in Ms. B's classroom, I hear another student speculate that, 'because it's such a nice day, I bet Ms. B will let us leave lunch and go right to recess!' And I take what they say as truth, get really excited, and tell all my classmates, 'Ms. B said we can leave lunch and go right to recess!'

And then the whole class gets in trouble for leaving lunch and going right to recess without permission.

Now, this is a pretty understandable misunderstanding, especially for a six year old. But i would still get in trouble, and all of my classmates would rightly feel lied to, because I pretended I had a source I did not have - I deceived them by leading them to believe I had heard Ms. B say we could leave lunch. The fact that I really believed she was going to let us do that is almost irrelevant.

And I expect people, by the time they are old enough to share information on social media - especially when they are sharing information presented as news, as facts that inform our understanding of the world in important ways - to understand that it's not okay to pretend that you authoritatively know something and remove the context of your (much less authoritative) source. Even if you genuinely believe the underlying facts you tell other people.

It's why I didn't call all the people in the comments misreporting the holding of Vega liars. I think they were wrong - dangerously wrong - but I think there is something fundamentally different in saying, 'Update! SCOTUS confirms you no longer have to be read your Miranda rights!' vs, 'I think SCOTUS said you don't need to be read your Miranda rights anymore and why I think that.'

Because I don't think we get to have it both ways. On the one hand, we cut people slack for repeating and sharing misinformation, because people (unfortunately but understandably) trust what they see in their social media feed. But if we do that, I think we need to also hold people responsible for the fact that when we put stuff in our own feeds - especially when we originate a claim on a new platform, or in a way that divorces the claim from its sources - other people are going to believe us.

And I feel like, in many circumstances, it will be worth highlighting the deliberateness of that act. Because people are making deliberate choices that make misinformation work. And maybe they are making those choices because we are socialized to seeing that choice as reasonable, the default even. But I question whether we change things for the better if we are not willing to point out that this is a deliberate choice (and we can change and better different, better, choices).

But I also don't think there is one single right answer. (And I absolutely have no expertise in reliable methods of fighting misinformation.) I think it's an interesting question, and may depend a lot on how you define lies, and the utility you think calling something a lie has. I am genuinely interested in other people's thoughts on this. :)

[katerinaaqu]

We need to normalize having favorites again. Achilles being fuck it Patroclus is my favorite guy, and I have a list of other favorites. Sorry I like yall but they're just built different.

Honestly I think ever since things like Miller's books went viral people wanna imagine Achilles as a "I am a helpless romantic EXCLUSIVELY GAY character and I have never loved or cared for anyone else but Patroclus" and in order for one to see him as a hero we absolutely need to see him as such especially with the theme of homosexuality (and let's face it one can understand why if I am perfectly honest given how for many many years to have openly homosexuality and themes in literature and media was not acceptable. Mind you even in antiquity it was a sensitive subject in many cultures, Greece included especially the recessive party)

However nothing could be farther away from the truth. And I think the sevral favorites Achilles has gives so much more depth to his deep emotional world and his complicated psyche. Especially given the borderline toxicity till straight out toxicity of his relationships.

Of course Patroclus was THE favorite. He was his other half. His everything. Daresay in a borderline toxic co-dependant bond. There was nothing before or after Patroclus for him emotionally to that degree.

However Achilles had many favorites that played a huge part in his life his wife Deidamia included that gave him his son, his legacy and continuation. Briseis was his war prize an object of status and yet she also emotionally touched him. At least from his side of the stick and of course that relationship is not healthy either since for that and the precious pride she represented Achilles condemned the Greeks for a long time and he also indirectly contributed to the killing of Patroclus and of course the fact that Briseis was a slave and mind you Achilles personally slay her family was of course far from what you could call relationship on her part. But she meant a lot to Achilles both status-wise but also emotionally. His crush on the Trojan princess Polyxena depending on the source leads to him either considering committing treason or as the most common way is, to make the Greeks perform human sacrifice for his sake. Even Iphigenia in one way touched him with her bravery and even in some sources she becomes his wife.

And let's not forget Antilochus the man that managed to support him emotionally throughout the last year of war before his demise, a young man that appears next to him in Homer in the underworld right at the same spot as Patroclus definitely means a lot.

Achilles was desperate to love. He was falling easily, getting fired up easily and feeling intensely. That was part of his character and a major one too and I think it is wrong and sad for his complicated psyche to ignore it.

Of course there is a hierarchy to his favorites and of course Patroclus is on top of this chain in every shape and form being his absolute reason for existence but to erase his other favorites as if they never existed and ignore it just for the obsession of making him "monogamous gay" feels sad to me. Achilles is so much more.

He DEFINITELY loved Patroclus more than anything or any one of the other favorites but his favorites are still there depending on the source with different severity or intensity.

But yeah the system doesn't work today hahahahaha and let's face it didn’t work wonders for Achilles either hahahahahaha 😅 😆 🤣 😂

[putschki1969]

Hi Sarah! I’m sure you’ve gotten lots of asks about this, but it’s shocking how much Kalafina is going through just because the girls wanted to reunite. I really can’t help but be disappointed at how they’ve turned into collateral damage for “picking sides,” it feels so immature for supposedly a bunch of adults. In other news, I almost teared up at seeing Wakana send Hikaru flowers for her live. I’ve always noticed they were never the closest back then, so this interaction makes me so touched!

Hello there!

It IS shocking and incredibly sad how the girls have always had to bear the brunt of this silly feud between Team Space Craft and Team Yuki.

I have no sympathy for the higher-ups at Space Craft because those guys are businessmen who with their eyes wide open made a bunch of stupid decisions that ultimately drove away one of their "best" managers (Mori) which subsequently led to their most prolific client leaving as well. I'm sure they could have done a lot of stuff to prevent this from ever happening.

Having said that, I am also pretty indifferent towards the supposed hardships of Team Yuki in all of this. Have they been wronged at some point by Space Craft? Most likely. Would I want them to tolerate any sort of mistreatment? No, of course not. But from what little we know based on questionable sources (i.e. tabloid articles - they usually contain at least a kernel of truth※), the main points of contention have always been rather inconsequential. Someone feeling slighted for not getting ahead career-wise or maybe not getting paid enough, someone's pride being hurt due to random actions, someone not getting the creative freedom they want or they think they deserve, etc...Don't get me wrong, these are all valid reasons to get angry about, you have every right to fight for this stuff and it is your prerogative to cut ties with your existing work arrangement if you don't manage to get it but is any of this truly worth upholding a year-long feud? I don't think so!

Just look at what's happening regularly in the Japanese entertainment industry! The most recent Fuji TV scandal is a perfect example of everything that's fucked up in the industry. In comparison, the entire SC vs. YK conflict comes across as mere child's play, just some petty shit※. What have Yuki and Mori really suffered? Arguably nothing except a bruised ego. What have they lost as a result of the feud? Maybe some connections, possibly some money or licenses. But just look at everything that has happened after they left Space Craft! They've come out of this small drama so much stronger and more successful than ever before! Yuki has gone on to reach the very peak of her musical career (deserved of course!) with Mori pulling some of the strings from behind the scenes. She still has the rights to Kalafina's music (if not the band itself) and gets to perform the songs whenever she likes with any singers she chooses. From an objective point of view, it's a total win-win situation for her, especially as long as she was still having access to both Keiko and Hikaru who would willingly participate in all the live activities. Although Yuki herself has admitted many times that she doesn't really care all that much about who is singing her songs (as long as she deems the person to be suitable for the song in question). According to her own statements, all her vocalists are interchangeable so when she claims that she has tried everything within her might to get all three girls back together for a Kalafina reunion I have a hard time believing her. Yes, she respects the girls on some level but I just don't think it's really all that important to her that Kalafina's music is sung by Wakana, Keiko and Hikaru so why would she go out of her way to reconcile with Space Craft so they can find a solution for this mess...? I've said it before and I will say it again, Team Yuki has more leverage in this conflict and they pretend to have the moral high ground so if this feud is still ongoing, the logical conclusion is that they actively choose to let it continue. Not saying that Space Craft aren't doing their fair part in keeping the conflict alive but somewhere underneath all the stupidity, greed, arrogance and pride, they must know that 1) Yuki was in many ways the driving force behind their success 2) Kalafina was their most prolific project and 3) Kalafina's music without Yuki's involvement would not work well in the long run. It would obviously be in their interest to collaborate with Yuki again to get the Kalafina project properly back on its feet. I am sure they have some silly demands (just like Team Yuki will have their own) but it's just incomprehensible to me how they have not been able to find at least some common ground during all these years...

Anyway, my point is that the Kalafina members do not deserve to be caught in the middle of a feud between people who for all intents and purposes should act in a more mature manner and who could solve all the issues by making certain concessions and acting a little less petty. The girls have put so much of themselves into the Kalafina project, it means the world to them so it's a shame that it has become this controversial thing that causes so much conflict and drama. They have fun exploring new paths in their solo careers and I hope it's something they can continue to do in the future but it's obvious that there was always a strong wish to rekindle the Kalafina project. Not being able to perform together as a group has taken a huge toll on them so of course they would be passionate about a reunion. They conveyed nothing but love, happiness and gratitude when they were finally standing on stage together. To see them being punished for having those genuine feelings is truly painful...Of course they made that choice for themselves and to some extent, they must have known what awaited them for "picking a side", I just hope the concert and whatever comes next will feel rewarding enough to them so that all the drama will eventually become a price worth paying...

Re: Flower bouquet: Yes, it was so nice to see Wakana send a lovely bouquet for Hikaru's final tour concert. Hikaru made sure to mention in one of her Instagram posts that Wakana was invited just like everyone else but due to a personal commitment, she couldn't make it so instead, she sent flowers in support (which Hikaru appreciated a lot of course). It's a small gesture but it means so much to us fans who have had to survive on bread crumbs for the past 7 years. To see them openly support each other is such a treat. We might never go back to the old times where we would get an abundance of lovey-dovey content (although I would love that) but as long as there small things like this or amazing photos like the one below, I am beyond happy.

※Please note that the above views are based on the premise that none of the higher-ups at Space Craft have ever engaged in any form of sexual misconduct or other abhorrent behaviour. All "evidence" (however ill-founded it may be) points towards them being stupid at best and grossly disrespectful at worst but as far as we know, none of their actions have ever been overly reprehensible, let alone criminal in nature. If anything of this sort comes to the surface one day, rest assured that I will be the first person to do a 180 degree turn and completely condemn them but as long as their worst crime is being stubborn dickheads (not a rare trait among old businessmen - especially in Japan) and our girls feel seemingly comfortable staying with them (in Wakana's case) or working with them again (in Keiko's and Hikaru's case), why would I waste my time villainising them?

[merakilii]

Bound by the Tide / Pirate AU

Part eight: Dangerous Waters other parts

pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader

words: 4.8k

tags: Sword fighting. blood and gore AFAB reader. pirate captain Mactavish and reader. the British Navy, including CPT Price and LT Riley. rivals to lovers.

Contains smut // 18+ mdi

He takes a step forward, just one, but it feels like the entire world shifts with him.

You step back instinctively, a defensive motion born of years of battle, but the act feels wrong, like retreating from an incoming wave when every part of you craves the crash. Your heel catches on the corner of the rug, your balance faltering, and you stop yourself with a sharp intake of breath.

He doesn’t stop.

Not another step, not yet, but he looms closer now, his presence filling the room like a tide rising steadily. You’re face to face, close enough to feel the whisper of his breath against your skin, warm and maddeningly steady.

“Ye dinnae want to step back,” he murmurs, low and quiet, like the rumble of thunder before a storm.

Your breath hitches again, your chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm as your gaze locks onto his.

“You don’t know what I want,” you snap, but the words are weaker than you’d like. They tremble at the edges, giving away the truth you wish you could hide.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching yours, sharp and piercing in a way that makes you feel seen, laid bare. “Dinnae I?”

The air between you feels too thin, charged with a tension that grips your chest and makes it impossible to look away.

“Why?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, your words laced with frustration and something you don’t want to name. “Why did you do it?”

His jaw tightens, his expression flickering between regret and something frailer. “Because I didnae have a choice,” he says finally, the weight of his words pressing into the space between you. “No' if I wanted to keep ye alive.”

Your laugh is sharp and bitter. “And handing me over to the Navy was your grand idea of keeping me alive?”

He exhales, his hand running through his hair in a gesture that speaks of restless guilt. “I couldnae fight ‘em then,” he says, voice tight. “Not wi’ me crew, me ship, everythin’ hangin’ in the balance. But I never, never, meant to leave ye there. No’ for good.”

You open your mouth to retort, to throw his excuses back in his face, but he cuts you off, stepping closer again until the space between you is a breath, a whisper.

“I couldnae sleep,” he says, the words spilling out like a confession dragged from his soul. “No' 'til I got ye back. Every hour, every mile across the sea, I thought of nothin' else.”

You falter, your anger cracking.

“I dinnae ken what it is about ye,” he continues, his gaze locked on yours, unflinching. “But ye’ve consumed me. Ever since I dragged ye from the wreckage o’ yer ship, ye’ve been in me head. I cannae shake ye, Gods know I’ve tried.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, each word sinking into you. You should be furious. You should shove him away, curse him, tell him he has no right to speak to you like this.

But you don’t move.

“An' I hate it,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Hate that ye’ve done this to me. Every time I shut me eyes, it’s yer face I see. I cannae step on this deck without lookin’ for ye, an’ even when ye’re not there, I feel ye. Like a ghost. Like a damn curse.”

His hand moves, not to touch you, but to hover near your arm, a motion that feels like both a question and an apology.

“I could tell ye I hate ye,” he murmurs, “but it’d be a lie.”

“I hate myself for what I did,” he expresses, his eyes burning into yours. “And ye have every right to be angry, to want me dead. Ye could put a blade to me throat, take me apart piece by piece, and I wouldnae stop you.”

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening at his words.

“Ye could do anything to me,” he says, his breath ghosting against your cheek. “And I’d deserve it.”

Your hand trembles at your side, caught between the urge to push him away and the unbearable pull of him. His eyes, deep and stormy, hold you there, dragging you under like a wave you can’t escape.

“Say somethin',” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly.

The anger, the pain, the tension that hums between you.

But you don’t speak. Not yet.

Instead, you meet his gaze, your chest heaving as the silence stretches, heavy with everything you can’t say.

Because words aren’t enough.

Not now.

Your breath catches, the words tangling in your throat as the space between you shrinks to nothing. His eyes, those maddening, piercing blue eyes, are so close now that they fill your entire world. The tip of his nose brushes yours, feather-light, and it sends a shiver racing down your spine, a sharp jolt that leaves you faltering.

You try to snap back, to say something, anything, that will shatter the moment, but your voice comes out as a whisper, trembling and uneven. “You don’t get to—”

Your words fail you as his breath brushes against your lips, warm and steady, and you feel yourself sway, caught between the pull of him and the anchor of your anger.

You should hate him.

The way he’s drawn you into this, the way he’s made you feel things you don’t want to name. You hate the way he saved you, dragged you out of the wreckage of your life when you would have rather sunk beneath the waves. You hate the way he betrayed you, handed you over to the Navy with that damned smirk on his face, only to tear the ship apart and come back for you like some reckless, infuriating knight.

You hate him for lying to you. For looking at you now like this, like you’re the only thing that matters.

And you hate the way it makes you feel, like your chest is caving in, like the floor beneath you isn’t steady.

“You…” Your voice wavers, your hand trembling at your side as you try to find the words, but they refuse to come.

Because his lips are right there.

Right there, close enough that all you’d have to do is lean in.

And the thought terrifies you.

It infuriates you.

Because he’s the devil, a liar, a man who thrives on chaos and destruction. He’s a storm given flesh, beautiful and dangerous and impossible to resist.

And yet, you want him.

You want him in a way that makes your blood burn, in a way that makes your mind scream with the betrayal of it. You want to tear him apart, to rake your nails across his skin and press your blade to his throat just to see if he’ll let you. You want to scream at him for every moment he’s put you through, every confusing, maddening, unbearable thing he’s made you feel.

But most of all, you want to kiss him.

It’s right there, his mouth, those lips curved with the faintest hint of a smirk, that scar you gave him catching the light. He’s too close, too steady, too calm, and it makes you want to lash out and pull him closer all at once.

“You don’t…” you begin again, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the words fail you as your throat tightens.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you with those eyes that see too much, that strip you bare with a single glance. And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, he murmurs, “I know.”

The softness in his voice undoes you. It’s not smug, not mocking, just raw and honest.

“You don’t know anything,” you gulp nervously, the heat in your voice is undercut by the way it trembles.

“I ken ye loathe me,” he says, his voice steady. “I ken ye have every right to.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he leans in, just the barest fraction closer, and you freeze.

“I ken ye want to tear me apart,” he continues. “And I’d let ye. I’d let ye do whatever ye want to me.”

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate.

Your hands tangle in his shirt, and with a growl that feels torn from somewhere deep in your chest, you push him backwards. He stumbles, the tension in his body snapping like a rope under too much strain, and he lands hard on the bed. The mattress creaks beneath him, the sound filling the air as he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you with wide, blazing eyes.

The smirk you expect isn’t there. Instead, his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. His chest rises and falls rapidly, the fire between you crackling as you climb onto the bed, straddling him with a force that knocks the breath from his lungs.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You sit astride him, your hands still fisted in his shirt, your legs on either side of his hips. The weight of your body pressed against his is maddening, too much and not enough all at once.

And then he laughs.

Low, breathless, and tinged with disbelief. “Christ above, hen,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “If ye wanted me on me back so bad, all ye had to do was ask.”

You narrow your eyes, your grip on his shirt tightening as you pull him up slightly, your noses almost brushing again. “Shut up,” you hiss.

“Make me.”

You don’t kiss him. Not yet. Instead, you glare at him, your breathing uneven as your hands move to push his coat off his shoulders. The fabric falls away, revealing the barest glimpse of the tanned, scarred skin beneath his shirt.

“Why do you always have to talk back?” you grunt, tugging at his shirt now, your movements rough and impatient. “Why can’t you just—”

“'cause ye love it,” he interrupts as he sits up fully, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His touch is firm, fueling your frustration.

“I don’t—” you start, but his hands tighten slightly, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard line of his body beneath you.

“Dinnae lie to me,” he murmurs. “Not now.”

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, your anger faltering for just a moment. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and it sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through you.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” you demand, your voice breaking as your hands shove his shirt up, exposing the hard planes of his chest.

He exhales sharply, his eyes darkening as your fingers brush against his skin. “Tell me.”

“You’ve ruined me,” you spit, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions. “Every time I try to hate you, you do something that makes it impossible. You lie to me, you betray me, and then you—”

“Then I save ye,” he finishes, his hands moving up your sides. “Because I couldnae do anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he pauses, his voice shaking now. “It’s always been you.”

“Do you think this makes up for it?” you snap, your hands pressing against his chest as you glare down at him. “Do you think this fixes anything?”

“No,” he admits as his hands slide up your back. “But I dinna care. I just want—”

“You don’t get to want,” you interrupt, your voice trembling as you lean down, your lips hovering just above his. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

“Then take it,” he whispers. “Take what ye want. Tear me apart, ruin me, but dinnae stop.”

The unguarded desperation in his voice is your undoing.

You kiss him, hard and unrelenting, your teeth catching on his bottom lip as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer. His skin is warm beneath your hands, the heat of him searing into you as your anger melts into something darker, something that burns just as hot.

His hands move to the ties of your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly as he works the knot free. You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your breath mingling with his as you whisper, “You don’t deserve this.”

“I’ll take it anyway.”

His hands slide the fabric from your shoulders, leaving you bare to his gaze.

And for the first time, there are no walls, no lies, no defences, just the two of you, tangled in anger and desire, lost in the wreckage of everything you’ve done to each other.

And neither of you wants to be saved.

The air between you is molten, every breath thick with the vexation that still simmers between you and the desire that burns hotter, undeniable now. His hands move up your arms, slow and deliberate, as though he knows it will only frustrate you further.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

His lips curve into that maddening smirk, the one that sets your teeth on edge. “Aye,” he admits, his brogue rough with amusement. “How could I not, lass? Yer sittin’ on me, practically rippin’ me clothes off. Feels like a victory to me.”

You shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, his grin widening as his hands slide to your waist, squeezing at the supple flesh of your hips.

You open your mouth to retort, to spit another barb at him, but his lips find the curve of your neck, and the words die in your throat. He presses a kiss just below your jaw, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“Stop that.”

“Why?” he mumbles against your skin, his lips brushing the words into you. “Afraid ye’ll like it?”

Your body betrays you with the smallest arch toward him. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, shoving at him again, but it’s half-hearted, your strength faltering under his touch.

“And ye’re stubborn,” he counters, laughing. “What a pair we make, eh?”

You glare down at him, your hands gripping his shoulders, but there’s no heat in it, not anymore. “Do you ever stop yammering?”

“Not when I’m winnin’,” he says, flashing you a grin before leaning up and nipping lightly at your collarbone.

You can’t help it, the laugh escapes before you can stop it, a sharp, incredulous sound that only seems to encourage him.

“There it is,” he says, his grin softening into something warmer, something that makes your chest ache. “Knew I’d get ye to laugh eventually.”

You scowl, tugging at the locks of his dark hair. “Shut up, Mactavish.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he replies, his tone mock-serious as his hands move to your thighs, his fingers brushing just under the waistband of your pants.

He shifts beneath you, and the movement presses you closer together, the imprint of his desire pressing against you.

His gaze catches yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades and it roots you to place.

“Tell me to stop,” he said. “An’ I will.”

You don’t.

Instead, you lean down, capturing his mouth in a kiss again that’s all teeth and fire, your hands tangling in his hair as you pour every ounce of frustration and want into the motion.

He groans against your lips, his hands sliding up your back as he meets your ferocity with his own. His kiss is maddening, rough and unyielding one moment, soft and coaxing the next, as though he’s determined to drive you mad.

You bite at his bottom lip, and he laughs into your mouth, the sound low and breathless. “Ye’ve got no mercy, do ye?”

“Not for you,” you reply.

He hisses as your hands brush against his skin, his head falling back for a moment before he looks at you again, his eyes dark and blazing.

“Good,” he rasps. “Because I dinnae want mercy. I want ye.”

The words hit you like a cannon blast, stealing the air from your lungs as his hands move to your waist, helping you out of your pants, the fabric finally off your skin.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as his eyes roam over you, his expression somewhere between reverence and hunger.

“You done staring?”

“Not even close.”

You roll your eyes, your hips rolling against his bulge as your lips catch his, and the world around you dissolves into nothing but heat and motion. His hands trace the curve of your waist, his grip firm enough to anchor you in place while still leaving room for you to move, to lead, to take.

You pull back just enough to bite at his lip again, your teeth catching on the scar that cuts across it, and he groans low in his throat.

“Ye always take what ye want, don’t ye?”

“Someone has to,” you retort, your words sharp, though the way you grind down against him undermines the sting.

He laughs, breathless, his head falling back against the bedframe as his eyes meet yours. “Aye, that’s what I like about ye,” he says in a slurry. “Ye never hold back.”

Your fingers move to the waistband of his trousers, yanking at the fabric with a sharp, impatient motion. He shifts beneath you, helping you strip them away.

The way he looks at you, the way his hands linger on your thighs as you settle against him, it’s too much. You can’t stand it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, his lips quirking into a faint, teasing smile.

“Like I’m—” You falter, the words tangling in your throat. “Like I’m something to you.”

His expression softens as he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “That’s 'cause ye are,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the flush darkening his cheeks.

“Ye’ve been in me head since the day I met ye,” he continues, his hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. “And no matter what I’ve done, no matter how much I’ve tried, I cannae shake ye. I dinnae want to.”

All you can do is stare at him, your breath coming in uneven pants.

“You’re lying,” you whisper, but the words sound hollow.

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw. “Never been more honest in me life.”

You don't understand it, the way he says it so easily, like he’s baring his soul without hesitation. Like he’s willing to let you have it.

His hands move over your skin, mapping every inch with a reverence that makes your heart stutter. He’s memorizing you, as if he’ll carry the shape of you with him no matter where he goes.

Your lips trail down his jaw, your teeth scraping against the stubble along his neck, and he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Ye’re gonna be the death o’ me.”

“Good,” you whisper against his skin, your lips curving into a smile as you bite down lightly, drawing another low growl from him.

His hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he shifts beneath you, as you strip away the last barriers between you, your bodies pressed together in a way that leaves no space for anything else.

“Ye have me,” he breathes out. “All of me. Whether ye want it or not.”

You don’t reply. You can’t.

The air in the room thickens, charged with heat and need that seems to wrap around you both, pulling you under. Johnny’s hands slide down your hips, steadying you as you hover over him, your bodies pressed so close that every breath feels shared. His eyes burn into yours, blue and endless.

“Ye’re trembling,” he chuckles, fingers tightening slightly on your hips. “Ye dinnae have to do this alone. Let me—”

“I can take you fine,” you reply, feeling the bulbous tip nuding teasingly against your clit. Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses, biting his lip.

He shook his head in annoyance and threw you back on the mattress easily, his palm pressing firmly against your chest. You glare up at him, but he doesn’t say a word, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly trails kisses down your body. Each touch of his lips is unhurried, writing poems on your skin unseen to anyone but you.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“Let me take care of ye.” It’s not a demand, it’s a request.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you nod, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he lowers his head. The first touch of his tongue is a slow stroke on your needy clit that has you arching off the bed. He groans, the sound vibrating against you, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

He takes his time, worshipping every sound you make, every twitch of your body. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, his tongue flicking and circling in a way that has you seeing stars.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your stomach, but he doesn’t let you fall, not yet. He draws it out, edging you until you’re trembling, until your breaths come in ragged gasps and your nails are digging into the mattress.

“John,” you choke out, his name a plea and a curse all at once.

He hums against you, the sound sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Mm, love,” he reassures, voice muffled as he enjoys every drop. “I’ve got ye.”

And then he’s pushing you over the edge, his mouth relentless as you shatter beneath him. Your back arches, your hands flying to his hair as you cry out, the world narrowing to nothing but the feel of him, the way he holds you through it, steady and sure.

When the waves finally subside, you collapse back onto the mattress, your chest heaving. He pulls back, his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Told ye,” he says, smirking as he slides his tongue over his lips.

You want to argue, to push him away, but the words die on your lips as he leans down to kiss you, and you realize, with a sinking feeling, that you’re already lost.

Your body hums from the way he’d unravelled you, but it’s not enough. You want more. You want him. Not just his hands, his mouth, his touch, you want all of him, every jagged edge, every broken piece. You want to climb inside his skin and make him feel what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you, even now.

You push yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you as you straddle him again. His eyes are on you, that piercing blue gaze like the heart of a flame, burning through you, daring you to take what you want. His chest rises and falls with each breath, his skin glistening in the dim light of the cabin, and for a moment, you just stare at him, memorizing the way he looks beneath you, powerless, exposed, yours.

You reach between you, your fingers wrapping around his cock, and he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows. He’s hard, achingly so, and the way he throbs in your hand sends a shiver of anticipation through you. You guide him to your entrance, your breath catching as you feel the heat of him, the promise of what’s to come.

And then you sink down, slowly, so slowly, until he’s buried inside you, and the world narrows to nothing but the feel of him, the way he stretches you, fills you, completes you. You both gasp, the sound echoing in the quiet of the cabin, and for a moment, you just sit there, trembling, your forehead pressed to his as you try to catch your breath.

“Ye’re perfect,” he whines. “Perfect.”

You roll your hips in a sluggish rhythm that has him groaning, his fingers digging into your skin. You set the pace, gradual and steady at first, savouring the way he feels inside you, the way his breath hitches every time you sink down onto him.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to ruin him.

You lean back, your hands braced on his thighs, and begin to move faster. He cursed under his breath, head falling back against the pillows. His hands slide up your body, rough and calloused, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and when they reach your breasts, you whimper, the sound low and guttural, torn from somewhere deep inside you.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Take what ye need, love. Take me.”

His hands grasped your hips as if he’s afraid you’d slip away. But you won’t. You’re here, in this moment, and you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to take everything he has, everything he is.

The sound of skin against skin fills the cabin, mingling with the creak of the ship and the distant crash of waves against the hull. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he watches you, his eyes dark with need, with adoration. He’s letting you do this. He’s letting you take control, letting you rip him apart until there’s nothing left but the raw, shattered remains of the man he used to be.

“You’re mine,” you whisper. “Mine.”

“Always yours.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you lean down, capturing his lips. He kisses you back with equal fervour, his tongue tangling with yours, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer, until there’s no space left between you, until you’re so close you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

And then you feel it, the coil of tension in your stomach tightening, threatening to snap. You move faster, your hips slamming down onto him with a force that has his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. But you don’t care. You want the marks. You want the bruises, the scars, the proof that he was here.

“Cum f'me,” he moans, desperate. “Let go, love.”

And you do. You shatter, your body convulsing around him as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, dragging you under. He follows you over the edge, his hips jerking as he spills inside you, his groan muffled against your skin.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the feel of his heart pounding against yours. And then, slowly, the world comes back into focus, the cabin, the ship, the distant sound of the sea. But you don’t move. You can’t. You’re too spent, too shattered, too his.

His arms are still around you, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, and his heartbeat anchors you to the present. You should pull away. You should rebuild the walls he’s so effortlessly torn down. But you don’t. You can’t. Not now. Not when the truth is clawing at your throat, desperate to be set free.

“I can't stand you,” you whisper, your voice trembling, but there’s no venom in it. Only exhaustion.

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you closer. He only hummed in response.

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead against his chest as the words spill out of you, unbidden, unstoppable. “I hate you because you make me feel things I don’t want to feel. I hate you because you see me, really see me, and I can’t hide from you. I hate you because you’re everything I’m afraid of, reckless, wild, untamed, and I see myself in you, and I hate it. I hate how much I want you. I hate how much I need you. I hate that you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this, like I’m not just some broken thing to be tossed aside.”

His breath hitches, and he’s silent. Then his arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer, as if he’s trying to shield you from the world, from yourself. “I’m sorry,” he apologises, something he never believed he could do. “For everything. For the way I treated ye. For the way I hurt ye. For giving ye to the Navy. I’ll spend the rest of me life making it up to ye, if ye’ll let me.”

“You don’t get it,” you say, your voice breaking. “It’s not just what you did. It’s what you are. It's what you are, and how I still need you anyway.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands. “Ye ken I dinnae feel the same?” he says, his voice rough, trembling with his confession. “You ken I dinna hate how much I need ye? How much I want ye? Ye’re the only one who’s ever looked at me and seen more than just a ruthless devil. Ye see me. And it terrifies me. It terrifies me because I know I dinnae deserve ye. I ken I’ll never deserve ye. But I cannae let you go. I cannae.”

You stare at him. You can’t speak. You can’t think. All you can do is feel.

“You said the ocean was cruel,” you reminisce, your voice barely audible. “But it’s not the ocean, is it? It’s the people in her waters. It’s the ones who betray you, who break you, who leave you to drown. And I didn’t want to be one of them. I didn’t want to let you in. I didn’t want to care. But I do. I care too much. And it scares me.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “It scares me too. But I’m no' going anywhere, no' ever again. Ye’re stuck with me. Ye're no' drownin'.”

You let out a shaky laugh, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, into the safety of his arms, into the promise of something more, even if you didn't quite grasp it yet.

Because maybe, just maybe, the storm isn’t something to fear. Maybe it’s something to embrace. Maybe it’s where you’ve always belonged.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑡

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“[Name], Yuji, and Nobara. Today, I want the three of you to go and exorcize the curses inside that building,” Gojo instructs. “Consider it a practical test. I’m interested in seeing what you guys can do.” 

Balls. 

You had a feeling that things would turn out this way. In the canon story, Fushiguro was the only one who waited outside along with Gojo. He already has experience using cursed techniques and all that stuff. You and Itadori are both newbies, and Gojo isn’t familiar with Nobara either, so it's hardly surprising.

In any case, you should be fine. Nothing tragic is set to happen today. As long as you play it safe and let Itadori and Nobara take care of everything, it shouldn’t be a big deal. If nobody’s life is at stake, you’d rather not risk messing with the storyline too much and just let it unfold. It’s not like you know how to fight yet anyway. 

“Well, I guess that’s fine by me, but I’m surprised there are curses just lurking around all over the place,” Itadori remarks. 

“How do you not even know simple things like this?” Nobara scowls. 

“Ah, right, you still haven’t heard what happened. The truth is, neither Yuji or [Name] have been trained as jujutsu sorcerers yet,” Gojo explains. He proceeds to point towards Itadori. “This guy ate a cursed object, and now he’s become Sukuna’s vessel. As for [Name], she naturally has a lot of cursed energy, but she doe

sn’t seem to know how to use it.”

“He ate a cursed object?!” Nobara exclaims, immediately taking refuge behind you. “Disgusting! That’s seriously gross! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“You know, ever since we met, I feel like you’ve done nothing but insult me,” Itadori grumbles. “Anyways, sensei, I don’t mind going in there, but I thought before you said that only a curse can exorcize a curse. I still don’t know any jujutsu.” 

“Since you’re Sukuna’s vessel, you’re pretty much a half-curse already. Cursed energy is flowing through your body. But of course, I can’t expect you to control it right away, so for now, use this.” 

sn’t seem to know how to use it.”

“He ate a cursed object?!” Nobara exclaims, immediately taking refuge behind you. “Disgusting! That’s seriously gross! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“You know, ever since we met, I feel like you’ve done nothing but insult me,” Itadori grumbles. “Anyways, sensei, I don’t mind going in there, but I thought before you said that only a curse can exorcize a curse. I still don’t know any jujutsu.” 

“Since you’re Sukuna’s vessel, you’re pretty much a half-curse already. Cursed energy is flowing through your body. But of course, I can’t expect you to control it right away, so for now, use this.” 

You suppose it doesn’t really make much of a difference who you’re with. There are only a few curses inside this building, and every single one of them will be exorcized by either Itadori or Nobara. You know Gojo is curious to see how you’ll fare, but realistically, your help isn’t going to be needed. 

“Don’t worry,” Nobara reassures. “Just stick with me. I’ll take care of all the curses. You won’t get hurt.” 

Damn. The difference between how she treats you and Itadori is like night and day. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

You stay close to her side, and she eventually stops upon entering one of the rooms. There are a bunch of mannequins scattered around. You already know what’s about to happen here, even without her saying anything. 

“Hey, you,” Nobara points. “The curse over there. The mannequin in the middle. Are you seriously planning on hiding? Do you take me for a fool? If you’re not gonna come out, then… fine. I’ll just exorcize you as you are.”

She pulls out her hammer and several nails, and right as the curse springs to action, she shoots out her nails and lands several direct hits. The cursed corpse mannequin teeters backwards, but already, the damage has been inflicted. Nobara imbues all of her nails with cursed energy. That thing was done for the moment they hit their mark. 

“Easy peasy,” Nobara proudly states. She flashes you a bright smile, and you quickly return it with a smile of your own, but you know that the battle isn’t truly over. 

Moments later, you hear the sound of a child whimpering in fear. 

“Ah. There’s a kid,” Nobara remarks. She leans forward slightly. “It’s okay now. I took care of that thing, so you don’t need to keep hiding.” 

As expected, the little boy furiously shakes his head in refusal, and Nobara sighs, taking a step back. 

“I guess it’s true that children are naturally more wary of beautiful women like us. It can’t be helped. We’ll just have to call Itadori and wait for him to—” 

She’s cut off by the sound of the boy screaming, and you when you blink, sure enough, there’s a curse holding him hostage—and giggling, no less. 

Well, I already knew this would happen. 

It’s alright. The boy isn’t really in danger, because any moment now, Itadori will burst through the wall behind it and rescue him, giving Nobara the opportunity to exorcize the curse. Of course, it hurts to see a child suffering like that, afraid that their life might be about to end, but you choose to believe that everything will unfold the way it’s supposed to. Itadori will have already finished killing the curse he encountered by now. There’s no reason he wouldn’t come looking for the two of you. 

And yet, things don’t go the way you expect them to. 

The fact that you’re even here right now means that sometimes, the story will change. 

Nobara sets her hammer and nails down and raises her hands above her head, signaling to the curse that she won’t attack. You do the same, dropping your blade so that it realizes there’s no imminent danger. You know the curse won’t let go of the kid, but it won’t kill him, either. At least, not by the time that Itadori shows up. 

Something seems off, though. And you’re suddenly hit with a wave of déjà vu. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of the way that other curse reacted to you. The one you encountered inside Sugisawa High. The one that got really, really mad when it locked eyes with you. 

This one’s starting to look pretty mad too. 

Without warning, the curse tosses the boy to the side, making him collide against one of the walls. It all happens so fast that you can barely even process it. One second, the curse is still a few meters away, and in the next, it’s right in front of your eyes, unhinging its huge mouth as its razor-sharp nails descend on you from above. 

Neither you nor Nobara are able to pick up your weapons in time. The curse is already upon you, and it brings you crashing down to the ground, one swipe away from clawing your face off. 

What’s… happening? 

You thought you were safe. You thought that by now, Itadori would be here. You thought that the curse would still be backed against the wall, where it had a blind spot, and was vulnerable to being attacked from behind. Everything you expected, all of the knowledge that you were so sure of… it was wrong. It didn’t go the way you thought it would.  

Nobara scrambles to try and shoot her nails out again, but it’s too late. You’re disoriented and vulnerable. You’re just short of being mauled. 

In that moment, you feel it. 

You feel the hot, dizzying pulse of energy that ripples through your body. You feel as if your nerves are on fire, like everything around you is inoffensive. Harmless.

For just a second, you feel powerful.

“Get the fuck off me!” you scream, and your hand makes contact with the curse’s body, just for a moment, before the energy flows out of your body, expands, and obliterates the curse right where it stands. 

Your vision fades in and out. The weight that was pressing down on you moments ago is gone, just like that. The curse is nowhere to be seen. 

…did you do that? 

While you regain your bearings, Nobara runs over to the little boy and makes sure that he’s okay. There’s a bit of bleeding from where the curse lightly sliced into his neck, and he collided with the wall pretty forcefully, but it doesn’t look like there’s any serious, permanent damage. Thank goodness. 

“I’m here!” someone cries out—and it’s none other than Itadori, who finally made his appearance by breaking through the wall. Realistically, he probably got here right around the same time he did in canon, but those few seconds just now could have been the difference between life and death for you. 

Itadori looks around, confused. “Huh? For a second, I thought… I felt a curse or something around here. Was I wrong?” 

“There was one. But [Name] exorcized it,” Nobara says. She pats the little boy’s head, then turns towards you with a frown. “I thought you didn’t know how to use cursed energy, but you actually pulled it off. You didn’t even need the cursed tool.” 

Itadori helps pull you to your feet, and you dust yourself off, still somewhat in disbelief. You’re uninjured, luckily. The curse wasn’t awfully powerful, but you wonder how much damage it could have inflicted on you if you hadn’t killed it in time. Honestly, you don’t even want to imagine. You’re just glad to have all your limbs intact.

“Are you alright?” Itadori asks worriedly. “Man. I don’t even have a single clue how to use jujutsu yet, but you actually killed that curse bare-handed? You’re awesome, [Name]! I didn’t realize you were already so strong!” 

“I… just got lucky,” you admit. “It was like some kind of reflex. I doubt I’m good enough to consciously control it and trigger it on my own. But I’m glad everyone’s okay. That’s the only thing that matters.” 

Yeah. Everyone’s safe, including the little boy. But once again, things changed. It was only a slight deviation from the main plotline, but the fact remains that the curse acted differently because you were here. 

What if that happens in the middle of an important event? What if it happens against a much more powerful enemy? 

…what if you end up causing more harm than good?

You clench your fists. No. Thinking about it like that is way too scary. You already made up your mind. Right now, you’re just not strong enough. Which means the only thing to do is improve. Until you’re confident enough to be able to protect everyone. 

“Let’s go,” you say, putting on a brave face. “I’m gonna make Gojo treat us to a yummy meal.”

“Ew! No way!” Nobara exclaims. “Why do I have to live in the same place as these stinky boys?!”

“Fushiguro, she called us stinky again,” Itadori pouts, repeatedly jabbing his dark-haired classmate in the ribs. “Are you really going to stand for that? Hey. C’mon. Seriously, do something about it.” 

Unfortunately, Fushiguro doesn’t intend to do anything, and instead, he proceeds to ignore everyone and march to his room. 

Aw. What a cute, socially-awkward little bean he is. 

It’d be nice if he didn’t think I was a pervert, though. 

“You’re not stinky, Itadori,” you reassure, and that’s pretty much all it takes for his expression to brighten up. 

“If you say so, [Name], then I know it must be true,” he beams. 

Nobara glances between the two of you, lips pursed. “So… are you guys dating, or what?” 

“I wish—” you start, but you manage to clamp your hand over your mouth, just in the nick of time. 

Holy shit, that was so close. You almost just exposed yourself as the number one simp in the history of all simps. Even Itadori, as much of a sweetheart as he is, wouldn’t be able to look at you the same if he knew you were lowkey (highkey) thirsting over him. 

“W-We’re just friends,” you reply, quickly collecting yourself. “Like I said before, we briefly attended the same high school. I transferred in late, so we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I guess it helps that we’re already familiar with each other.”

“You’re way too pretty to be friends with someone like him,” Nobara states matter-of-factly. “I bet he ate his boogers as a kid.” 

Wow. She actually said it to his face this time. 

“I didn’t do that,” Itadori insists, but based on Nobara’s expression, you can tell she’s not buying it.

You turn towards your new classmate with a smile. “I think it’s cool that we all get to live together. Gojo wanted to put all the first-years in the same building. He thought it’d be more fun that way, and I agree. We have separate bathrooms from the boys, obviously. I don’t see the problem.” 

“Well, the problem is that they could sneak into my room in the middle of the night and try to steal my underwear or something.”

“Um, Itadori would never do something like that, and Fushiguro would probably sooner die than be labeled a panty thief. Also, these doors lock. So, I’m pretty sure they have no way of getting into your room.”

Nobara stares at Itadori through narrowed eyes. “Still. I bet they’ll find a way. Perverts stop at nothing to get what they want. If you try anything funny, I’ll kick your ass, just so we’re clear.” 

“Why am I being accused of stealing underwear all of a sudden?” Itadori sighs. “I’m too tired for this. I think I’m gonna start getting ready for bed. Goodnight, [Name]. Goodnight, Kugisaki.” 

He waves you off with a smile, and he smiles at Nobara too, but she responds by making a slicing motion across the base of her neck.

Oh, well. She’s a little rough around the edges right now, but you know that she’s actually a really good friend. She cares about people, even if she doesn’t let it show from the start.

Inside the communal girls’ bathroom, you and Nobara brush your teeth in front of the big mirror, and you watch, incredulous, as she pulls out a gigantic box and sets it down on the counter. 

You spit into the sink and wipe your mouth. “What’s that?” 

“My skincare products,” Nobara simply responds. The box opens like some kind of treasure chest, and you can hardly even count the number of items inside. 

“Whoa. You use all that stuff?” 

“Of course. How else do I think I maintain my pretty face?” 

“I just use this thingy,” you shrug, pointing to your tiny little bottle of facial wash—which looks rather pitiful in comparison to Nobara’s treasure trove.

Nobara lets out a loud, offended gasp. “Seriously? That’s the only step in your skincare routine? Where’s the toner? Where’s the moisturizer? Do you even exfoliate?” 

“Back in my old world—I mean, back when I lived in a different city, I used to wash my face with soap. Trust me, this is a step up.” 

Similar to Fushiguro, Nobara proceeds to stare at you with a mixture of both horror and disgust. 

“You’re way too pretty to be ruining your skin this early,” Nobara sighs. “Here. I’ll let you borrow some of my skincare products. You clearly have good genes, but if you’re not careful, you’ll damage your skin and it’ll all be wasted. We can go shopping together sometime to pick out what you need.” 

You grin. “So, you’re asking me out on a shopping date?” 

“Sure,” Nobara chuckles. “That’s one way of putting it. I’m seriously jealous now. I can’t believe you look so cute when you’re putting in minimal effort.” 

Hehe. Nobara thinks I’m cute. 

You decide to take her up on her offer and try following the very lengthy steps of her skincare routine, and it’s definitely working, because by the time you’re done, your face feels fresher than ever. 

“Wow,” you marvel. “Nobara, feel my cheeks. They’re super-duper soft.” 

“Of course,” she proudly replies, flipping her hair. “Don’t ever doubt me again. I’m an expert when it comes to this kind of stuff. There’s seriously nothing to do in the countryside. I spent a bunch of time reading up on beauty tips and fashion, just waiting for the chance to live in a big city. I don’t know why your family ever moved to the countryside in the first place. Didn’t it feel like absolute torture?” 

“Not really. I didn’t mind it. And I got to meet Itadori at my old high school, which was nice.” 

“Hm. Well, I’m glad you didn’t have a bad experience.” Nobara crosses her arms, looking rather downcast all of a sudden. “I used to have a friend that moved to the countryside from a bigger city, just like you. Her name is Saori. She was super nice, and you honestly remind me of her a bit. People make the countryside sound like it’s so laid-back and filled with nothing but kind, warm-hearted people, but they can actually be pretty cruel. Back where I lived, all of the villagers decided to bully Saori, claiming some bullshit that she was secretly looking down on them. In the end, they ended up driving her out of the village and making her move away. Isn’t that horrible?” 

Right. That was one of the reasons she grew to resent the countryside that much more. You’ll never understand why people choose to hurt others for no reason. 

Then again, in a world as cutthroat and brutal as Jujutsu Kaisen, you honestly shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m lucky that people never bullied me like that,” you acknowledge. Truly, you can’t say you had any particularly upsetting experiences back in the real world. You lived a fairly average, otherwise unremarkable life. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been isekai’d here, of all places. Perhaps someone out there felt your life was too easy and decided to give you a challenge. Who knows, really. 

The only thing you do know is that it’s far too late to turn your back on these people. And even if it’s scary, even if it’s downright terrifying, you’d like to help them. 

“I’m sorry your friend had to go through something like that,” you say, gently patting Nobara on the back. “And I’m sorry that you had to be apart from her because of what those villagers did. I hope that you’ll be able to see her again someday. I have a feeling it’ll happen.”

Nobara stares at you wide-eyed, not quite sure how to respond. Maybe she’s not used to being comforted because she’s such a strong person and doesn’t ever show weakness.

But her expression makes it clear that she appreciates your words. 

“You really do remind me of Saori,” Nobara grins, pulling you into a hug. “You’re both so nice. Saori was really pretty like you, too. If that old guy from earlier today would’ve seen the two of us together, I bet he’d have scouted us to be models in a heartbeat.”

You chuckle softly. You never imagined yourself in the modeling industry, but Nobara’s confidence makes you feel like you really could have had a shot at it. It would definitely be easier than being a jujutsu sorcerer. 

If only. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to bed now,” Nobara says, finally shutting her massive, treasure chest-like box of skincare products. “Beauties like us need all the rest we can get. I don’t know about you, but I do not want to wake up with eye bags.” 

“I’ll go to sleep soon, too. I think I just want to step outside for a bit and get some fresh air before I turn in.” 

“Alright. Goodnight, [Name]. See you in the morning.” Nobara glances around and grits her teeth. “Pray that none of the boys try to steal our underwear while we sleep.” 

You laugh as she walks off, and the image of Itadori and Fushiguro sneaking around like ninjas as they rifle through your clothing drawers is almost too funny. Fushiguro especially. You can’t think of a single person who’d be less likely to pull some shit like that. 

After tucking your belongings back in your room, you make your way out of the dorm building. There’s a full moon tonight, and you lift your head towards the clear sky, relishing the sensation of the slight breeze that caresses your cheeks. 

“...can’t sleep?” 

You blink, somewhat alarmed, only to find Gojo standing mere inches away from you. The way he just sometimes manifests in the blink of an eye… it’s kind of freaky. Although you’d expect nothing less of the strongest sorcerer. 

“Sensei, don’t sneak up on me like that,” you huff. “I almost had a heart attack.” 

“My bad,” Gojo chuckles. “I was just stopping by to make sure you’d all gone to bed. There’s a barrier around the school, so it’s not necessarily dangerous to wander around, but you’re still students. There are rules and curfews in place.” 

“I wasn’t going to go anywhere. I just wanted a bit of fresh air.” 

“Well, I guess that’s fine, then. Don’t worry,” he grins, pressing a finger to his lips. “I won’t tell on you.” 

God. This man is way too attractive for his own good.

“Was there something on your mind?” Gojo hums. “You did pretty well for your first day, considering you have no clue how to even control your cursed energy. I’m guessing what happened earlier today was an instinctive response. You still need actual training. But you’ve undoubtedly got potential.” 

“Well… there are a few things,” you admit. “I’m just a bit… nervous. I guess. About everything. Does that make me a coward?” 

“I’d say that’s the normal response in your position. Yuji’s an exception. He adapts to situations very quickly, and even though he’s scared, he’s the type to jump right in when others are in trouble. But it’s not like he’s immune to fear either. No one is immune to fear.” 

There’s a pause, and moments later, he’s got a goofy smile on his face. 

“Well, except for me, of course!” 

You sigh. “I admire your confidence, sensei. If I could have even a fraction of it, that’d be amazing. But I’ll probably just have to find my own way of coping.” 

Gojo chuckles again. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you awkwardly kick at a few leaves that have fallen to the ground, but when you turn back to look at him again, his blindfold has been pulled off. 

And he’s even closer to you than before. 

“To be honest, my eyes are pretty good at reading the flow of cursed energy,” he says, and sure enough, the pale blue eyes you find yourself staring into are so piercing, so bright, that you may as well be under a spell. You can’t bring yourself to look away.

Gojo’s smile slips, just for a moment. 

“I don’t really know how to describe it, but your cursed energy flows differently than what I’ve become accustomed to. It feels unnatural. It’s almost like some kind of glitch. You know how like in video games, there are lags sometimes and the images get all choppy? Or the screen will randomly freeze up? Sort of like that. It just… doesn’t really sit right with me.” 

You swallow. Of course, you instinctively know that this has to do with the fact that you’ve been isekai’d. Your existence in this world already doesn’t make sense. It figures that the power you’ve been imbued with doesn’t make much sense either. 

He’s suspicious of you, and for good reason, but you doubt anyone would ever come to the conclusion that you’re from a different world. It’s unfathomable. Even if you told people outright, they still wouldn’t believe you. 

In his eyes, you are an enigma, and you can only hope that the mystery that surrounds you won’t be the reason for your demise. 

“So… you’re calling me weird,” you mumble, pretending to look embarrassed. 

Now that you can clearly see the entirety of Gojo’s face, you’re able to pick up on even the smallest changes in his expression, like the way his eyes widen slightly, and the subtle lift of his brows.

His smile returns, even brighter than before. 

“Haha! Well, I won’t deny it. Objectively speaking, your situation is weird. But the same can also be said of Yuji, so don’t worry about it too much. I just felt like saying what was on my mind. It wasn’t my intention to shame you.” 

He happily pats your head—which has since become your absolute favorite thing—then places his blindfold back on. Which is kind of a shame, because you can’t see those beautiful eyes of his anymore. Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted. 

“Time to get some sleep,” Gojo says, gently pushing you forward. “If I catch you outside again, I might have to act the part of a strict teacher for once. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m grumpy.” 

“I like seeing you all the time, sensei.” 

“Is that so? I’m flattered,” he muses, still pushing you into the building. “But I’m afraid your sweet talk won’t work on me. Believe it or not, even I can be responsible. Well, sometimes.” 

You step inside the building and turn back to face him. This whole time, you haven’t even stopped to consider that he’s just seen you in your pajamas, and suddenly, you feel your entire face flush. 

Hopefully he thinks the little teddy bear print you’re wearing today is cute. 

“Goodnight, sensei,” you say, politely bowing your head. “You work really hard, so I hope you’ll be able to get some rest. You deserve it.”

You wave him off with a big smile before he can even respond, and he watches as you excitedly scurry off in those cute pajamas of yours, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. You’re admittedly a bit clumsy, which isn’t ideal for a jujutsu sorcerer, but hopefully your natural strength can compensate for it. 

Besides, even if he can’t really put it into words, he enjoys being around you. You’re entertaining. Despite the fact that nothing about you makes any sense. 

A grin splits across Gojo’s lips. 

You might end up becoming his favorite student at this rate. 

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[whywhywhymoney]

What everyone ALWAYS gets wrong about Maggie Kyle

For a character with very few appearances (and only 3 of them as the incredibly mischaracterised Sister Zero), the amount of bad faith takes and practical vitriol that gets thrown Maggie's way is really surprising. She's a very interesting character and foil for Selina which is why competent writers for Catwoman keep coming back to her! I feel like I want to clear up some of the major misconceptions that I've seen by doing a bit of a deep dive using mostly her debut appearance:

She's sanctimonious/holier-than-thou.

This couldn't be further from the truth! It makes me think that people don't actually read her appearances, just look at the nun habit and come up with an idea of what they think a foil to Selina should be like (pious, virtuous, dependent, frumpy).

Catwoman (1989)

She's actually very much an idealist, and doesn't give up on the people she loves. In her first lines of dialogue she's shown here cutting an elder nun down to size because Maggie won't take any criticism of/for her prayers for Selina.

Catwoman (1989)

You see her directly telling a cop that she doesn't care if she gets arrested, and the language she uses clearly emphasises that she doesn't have anything against sex workers (we even see her talking to some later when she's trying to find Selina; everyone's very respectful to each other).

Maggie crucially does not think she's above anyone, and she doesn't think she's above behaviour that others feel is beneath her ("Or you'd arrest me for soliciting... Book me, Danno").

If you can accuse Maggie of anything here it's naivety - that by virtue of being a nun she's protected from violence - but she's also literally a teenager here too.

Throughout these panels she's constantly being patronised and slightly belittled by authority figures - and absolutely refuses to give into them and pushes back every time. This is just ONE of the MANY traits Maggie and Selina share, but like so many of their similarities, it becomes a difference because of how those traits present themselves in both girls (and they're both literally just girls here, no more than 17-19).

I assume this misconception can come about from the way Selina talks about Maggie very early on -

Catwoman (1993) #5

She's abrupt and distant and wants nothing to do with her - not because of anything Maggie did but because Selina feels it's the best way to keep her safe. Selina pushing people away/leaving them for their sakes is nothing new, and she's done it to Maggie first/ the longest, its sort of a default setting for their early relationship.

Part of it may also be some sort of resentment regarding how both of their lives turned out, but that's probably buried so deep that by the time it does crop up in Catwoman (2002), both of them acknowledge that they're way beyond that.

She's timid/weak.

Again, a lot of these misconceptions stem purely from 2 things:

Thinking Maggie is the total antithesis of Selina

The stereotypical image of a nun/religious person

While obviously not as physically capable as Selina and Holly, that doesn't stop her from being a badass in her own right. There's plenty of panels that show how much of a backbone Maggie has, and you can even see it above. The girl is not timid!

Catwoman (1989)

But in a literal life or death situation, when even Selina thinks Maggie's dead (Stan has thrown her off a platform), she actually managed to grab onto a railing and is later saved by Batman. The near death experience doesn't stop her from standing up to Selina's actions too.

If this exchange reads as "sanctimonious" to readers, well fine. Selina feels that way. What it really is supposed to highlight is that neither sister is wrong, just how their different worldview's affect their dealings with the world - in fact, we watch all this from Selina's POV, so we naturally favour her perspective. That same stubbornness and desperation to survive persists in Maggie just the same as it does in her sister. Again, it just expresses itself differently.

In fact, out of all characters, it's STAN who correctly assesses just how similar Maggie and Selina are, in his own twisted way. Maggie's been holed up alone with Stan - a known abuser and rapist - for at least a couple days by this point, and the way she refuses to engage with him is a parellel of how Selina refused to engage with the police right at the start of this story.

Catwoman (1989)

She's not timid and she's CERTAINLY not weak. Just as Selina won't give up any information about Maggie, Maggie spends the latter half of the comic doing the same thing.

Over and over again we see Maggie as the one who's not afraid to stand up to the one's she loves, and the one who feels more secure in their relationship, and in general the one who is actually the LESS likely to give into her emotions the way Selina can do on occasions.

Catwoman (1989)

You can see it right here, in the aftermath of Maggie's kidnapping. Selina expects her to be a mess, and Maggie's just quipping through the whole time. She doesn't hold back at all from letting Selina know exactly what she went through, and she can be JUST as bitter (and has a right to be) about what hand life dealt her as Selina is. It's Selina who's wracked with emotion, and it's Maggie who lets her know in no uncertain way that she's not a killer.

It's fairly interesting to note - Maggie and Selina both have the same tendency towards self-destruction when they hit rock bottom. But I think Maria's suicide has taken that "conventional" option away from both of them.

And now for some general observations on Maggie and her relationship with Selina:

They both possess the same capacity for empathy and caring - whereas Selina cares SO much about a select circle of people and empathises endlessly with people in difficult situations, Maggie doesn't put a limit on who to care about. Neither of them are wrong, they're just different. This trait in Maggie might have changed as we haven't seen a whole lot of her as a functional person post-Relentless though (and I think from the snippet we see in One Bad Day, she has).

They do look very similar, and this is highlighted more in Catwoman (1989), but their colouring is different, especially later on when Maggie has more lighter brown/reddish-brown hair. Once again, the eerie similarities just make the contrasts strike that little bit harder.

Maggie canonically did get her Psychology degree - and it's something that completely works with her already established character! I can completely see her in a role that strives to make life better for others, in the same way Selina strives to make life better for the East End.

There's always varying levels of friction between her and Selina, and there probably always will be. That does NOT mean they cannot stand each other. It just means they have a very complex and layered relationship, and clashes often happen between people who are pretty similar in certain ways. They still love each other fiercely and never stop caring about each other.

When it comes to religion, I'm going to let these panels speak for themselves. What I will say is I think both must have had a healthy grounding about it in their childhood, as Selina never sounds particularly resentful against the Church.

Catwoman (1993) #5

Gotham City Sirens (2009) #22

The undercurrent between both of their attitudes is towards religion, life and each other is empathy, a lack of judgement, and a fierce determination to love and live IN SPITE of constantly hitting drawbacks. Those core traits are inherent to both of them, I really do believe it.

And that's that on Magdalene Kyle!

[aquaaquila]

In Hunting Palismen Flapjack didn't immediately start clinging to Hunter. He only showed interest in him the moment he vocalised his want for having a chance to make his own future. Before that, he also glared with Luz at him when he first saw him. He stayed with him the moment Hunter expressed that he does indirectly want to protect him and Flapjack decided to do the same. That's what started their bond, not the memory of Caleb.

Have we actually met Caleb? Do we actually know his motives? We can't literally say Hunter and Caleb share motives when Caleb was never a character in the actual story and was only haunting the narrative.

And It's worth noting that according to Thanks to Them AND Dana Terra's posthoot, Flapjack Evelyn's palisman and Caleb and Evelyn bonded over him like dog owners bond over their pets. Even in the play Evelyn is offering Caleb Flapjack, which is also why Belos says "goodbye Evelyn" because Flapjack is also last memory of Evelyn.

Hunter literally had to figure out a cover name for himself, Flapjack proposed Caleb, but the key word is proposed. Flapjack didn't tell Hunter to call himself that (and framing it as such is just straight up wrong on not factual but also a moral ground because Hunter IS NOT Caleb and it's wrong for Flapjack to not see distinction because it pretty much tells you that Flap wouldn't care at all if Hunter didn't look like Caleb, so good job, you assassinated the bird's character with such notion).

There was never a statement that Palismen are tied to ones' soul, but the desires anyone can share. Willow and Gus are never stated to be reincarnations of past owners of Clover and Emmiline, and they both were palismen not carved but palismen without owners. If a Palismen can run away from an owner, then the soul connection also is hardly much.

Belos said Hunter is the closest he got to making his own Caleb but even Belos was absolutely ready to drop Hunter, proving that in the end he's neither Caleb nor even what Belos wanted for Caleb to be in the first place. It's not about defending Belos but even remotely admitting that he's right, when in truth he's a liar, he's in the wrong, he's delusional, and nothing that comes out of his mouth is to be trusted. What Belos raised Hunter to be is a tool, a soldier, a toy, a punching bag, Caleb was none of these but Belos wishes otherwise. Belos wishes Caleb was blindly loyal and obedient, but he wasn't (and it took a lot for Hunter to truly break away from Belos and in fatc it was Belos backstabbing Hunter FIRST that made Hunter change sides anyway), he wanted Hunter to hunt down monsters, but Caleb didn't do that. All we know about Caleb is that he was looking after Philip as his only parental guardian, he partook in witch hunts and encouraged Philip to do so as well to fit in with Gravesfield, he run away with Evelyn, he made a family in the Boiling Isles and loved Philip all the way to the end which also costed him his life. Hunter could never be like Caleb because he was never brought up in the same environment with the same experiences.

And heck even Steven Universe, another queer show went out of its way to establish that a main character who has even more solid groundwork to be believed to be extension of his mother's identity and his reincarnation STILL in fact is not neither Pink Diamond or Rose Quartz, he just is Steven. Hunter's arc is ALSO about breaking away from the notion that he must do as he's told or be someone he isn't. Hunter feared he wouldn't be accepted for his heritage as a clone of a witch hunter, but he still chose to stop witch hunters and not engage with it at all. Hunter's wants and desires are his own, and his memories do not belong to anyone but him alone. He is not Caleb, he does not have his memories, his experiences, probably not even his personality, and the simple truth is that you just can't duplicate people, Belos trying and failing only further proves that. Hunter and Caleb can have similarities as those run in the family after all, but Hunter is not Caleb, he's not his dad and Flapjack did not bond with him over that so just stop, especially since you're making your own heart ache over such thoughts when it's just unnecessary.

I've been thinking about the grimwalkers a lot lately and it made me think

What if Hunter WAS Caleb. Like Hunter doesn't exist. The grimwalker spell just remade Caleb rather than just clone him and Caleb's mind was just erased over and over again, and the only thing Belos thought of to "bring him back" was to treat Hunter like how Caleb was treated in the human realm as a way to jog his memory.

And it would hurt more when Caleb "betrayed" Belos every time because it just proved even when Caleb didn't remember who he was or who Belos was, he didn't want anything to do with him once he found an escape.

It makes sense because when Belos finds out about Flapjack, he yells, "Caleb!" Like he was scolding Hunter not really in surprise in anger.

Or when Belos makes Hunter say goodbye to Evelyn. Hunter doesn't know Evelyn. Why would Belos make him say goodbye to her unless he knew he was Caleb.

Flapjack knew, too, Palisman clung to the soul. Thus, the reason Flapjack made him call himself Caleb when meeting Willow. And why Flapjack dug up the rebus for Hunter. He hated being away from Hunter and knew immediately when something was wrong because he knew Caleb. And Hunter IS Caleb

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[boygirlctommy]

out of all of the (many, many, many) miscommunications on dsmp, this one still makes me lose it the most. these two were never on the same page even once and this was the culmination of all of it. 2 entirely different conversations going on

[fairyroses]

He was about to kill you, Lex. Or divulge something you didn't want me to know.

— SMALLVILLE, "Forever" (4.21)

+ bonus from "Arctic" (7.20):

[skytheidiott]

...not me working on this idea right now just ever so slightly differently lmao

Im absolutely obsessed with Shania and Ghondor (and the entire damn City, for that matter). However, I haven't run into people with the same obsession as me yet (majority of the time, it's just people bashing on Shania (rightly so, she was an absolute bastard in the main story and didn't get the proper character development outside of one solitary side quest))

However, characters like Shania, Ghondor- hell, the bloody City Special Forces that do basically nothing all scream one thing to me: wasted potential.

We could've had the City's Ouroboros vs Our Ouroboros. Perhaps had Shania been introduced sooner than Chapter 5 (perhaps, say, Chapter 2!), we could've gotten a different perspective on the City after Guernica kicks the bucket and actually made us give a darn when she inevitably kicks the bucket herself.

Like, I'm a fan of Shania's character but even I can realize that she got shafted HARD by the writing, which sucks! It's funny too, since the writing tries to ham up Shania's death like it's this big thing when in reality, you shared maybe less than half an hour of cutscenes with this girl who just rubbed her betrayal in your face. Then, it tries to make Sena out to be completely devestated by her death. Sena, love, you spent less than half an hour with her.

And then, Noah says "I've changed so much from the people I've met on this journey!" AND IN THE BLOODY FLASHBACK SHOWING CHARACTERS LIKE ETHEL AND CAMMURAVI, SHANIA SHOWS UP??? Noah, all she did for you IS ACCIDENTALLY MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND IMMORTAL!!!

It really makes me wonder what ended up on the cutting room floor! What did they have planned for Shania's story? What could have been?

Going full on into tinfoil hat territory here, but perhaps they were going to make her a microcosm of the main cast's issues. She already wields her fallen sister's gun in remembrance of Titania, much like Mio carries Miyabi's flute in remembrance of Miyabi! There's the obvious connection between Shania and Sena, both seeking validation for their efforts and trying to copy those they look up to (Ghondor and Mio respectively). Continuing this probably extremely flawed line of logic then, I wonder how they would've tied her to other characters? How would she connect to Eunie, Lanz, Taion, and Noah- especially Noah/N?

Well, I have ideas. Ideas that I want to share in the form of either a comic series or a video series. If I do the comic route, I might be able to get it out faster. However, if I do the video route, I'll be able to do music and voicing, things that have greatly elevated this story when I've told it to other people (I AM SLOWLY BUT SURELY MANUFACTURING SHANIA AND GHONDOR FANS MUTHAFUCKAAAAAAAAAA).

...Sorry, I don't intend to self-promote. It's just that this has inhabited my mind for over two years now and after entering a server where people's favorite pass time is bashing on Shania, I just needed to get at least this much out. I've already written over 100 pages for this supposed "XC3: Rewritten Fates" fan thing and I'm desperate to share what I have. However, I want to do this right. I don't want this to be a totally self-indulgent fanfiction. Not that there's anything wrong with that, obviously! But... If I am to take this "What If?" seriously, then I want it to feel like this could really have happened in the main story of XC3.

...Jeez, I really did rant, didn't I? Truth be told, I just really like Shania lol. Also, doomed Yuri between the three is a fun, albeit indulgent fantasy lol. If you read all that stuff I wrote, I am so sorry you had to bear witness to my insane ramblings but I hope it was moderately interesting!

if more tumblr girlies were into xenoblade i guarantee you there would be so much sena/ghondor/shania posting. short girls with problems. one of them kills herself on screen after her betrayal of the other two blows up in her face. and then after she briefly achieves immortality she goes to rub it in their faces and kill people about it. and then they kill her about it.

shania reid is a deeply fucked up lady with a heavy inferiority complex and it keeps blowing up in her face.