#possible reincarnation au

[lobster-risotto]

Silverflint AU where Silver is a 28 year old who inherited a home from his great grandfather on the coast of Florida in a tourist town based in 1700s piracy (apparently their port is meant specifically to travel to and from historic Nassau for tourists) with all utilites paid for for the next four years. He never knew the man, not really, and surely felt confused as to why he had earned a home from him. However, he needs a home after having just completed his culinary degree.

He moves in, terrified of the change but eager for the free house, and the town seems nice enough, though full of people from places that are definitely not Florida.

Silver barely notices at first, the way his things don't quite stay where they put them. The way his hair stands up or the room gets strangley cold. Eventually, though, its starts to really bother him. And that's when the shadow starts showing up. That's when the dreams start, and they make little sense. That's when the smell of seawater gets almost sickening at times, and he swears he can smell gunpowder in his bed when he wakes up. However, Silver does not believe in ghosts. It must be all the change, he convinces himself.

At some point, the shadow stops being a shadow, and it's a person. In the corner of his eyes, just for a moment, he swears someone is standing next to him, or sitting at the dining table, always looking at him.

Then whispers come through. It sounds like someone calling to him. He can never tell, and it must just be his imagination.

He finds a letter from his great grandfather, explaining the history of this place. Built in 1734, a pirate lived here supposedly. Obviously, he thought, this is a pirate town after all. With the note is a ring and it looks old. Like, really old.

He puts it on, and the weight of it seems... different.

Immediately after, he hears from behind him in a thick London accent, gravely and irritated, "Fucking took you long enough."

[demaparbat-hp]

Idk if I'm too late, but I really want to see what you do with "kiss of life"

Before the Sun dies.

[shizunitis]

at the definitive end, shen qingqiu would want to go back to fix it. luo binghe would want to go back just to luxuriate in shen qingqiu’s presence for even one moment more. i am ill

[hydrangeanumber1fan]

"Two different bodies, same soul."

[allmightskitten]

I think I'm gonna impulsively throw in way more of something I never planned on exploring in this fic:

Law's relationship with Doflamingo before he left the Family...

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

Got an Alien Stage IvanTill Hunter AU in the works...

[sandcrafted]

oh my god i just logged in for the first time in a while and THE SCHOOL CASTE AU HAS AN ANIMATED SCENE NOW???????? WHAT

[strangerwheelerthings]

A short fic teaser (completely unrelated to all the other one's I've started... whoops)

Nancy is five by the time she realizes that the monsters in her dreams are vastly different and far worse than the ones all the other kids are scared of. They are scared of the ghost stories their older siblings told them, or of the creatures on TV. They worry about monsters under the bed, or in their closets, like Sulley from that new movie, Monsters Inc. Sulley isn’t even scary. Sulley is kind and he helps little girls like her. Sulley has a face. Sulley doesn’t leave parents dead on the floor, bleeding from the eyes with their limbs broken and horribly misshapen. He doesn’t steal and eat best friends. He doesn’t even make little girls bleed. 

She tries to ask her parents about it, but all she gets in return are horrified looks and questions about babysitters watching bad movies. They don’t believe her when she says she’s never seen a movie like that. Her older brother Nathan and her never see their old babysitter again. It makes her sad. Abby had been really nice.

Nancy is six the first time she hears the word PTSD. The nice therapist lady had just been playing dolls with her before asking her parents to join them in the room to talk. She doesn’t understand what it means, but it makes her parents freak out and start arguing with the lady. They claim that it makes no sense, that nothing has ever happened to her to cause that level of trauma. The lady tries to calm them down, telling them she understands, but that it’s something that would explain her breakdowns when confronted with fireworks or guns. It would explain her night terrors and how frequently she woke her family up with screams. It would even explain some of her tantrums where no one could get through to her, or her moments of dissociation.

Nancy doesn’t understand most of the conversation, but she does figure out that something is wrong with her that none of the adults know how to deal with... She learns quickly that numb quiet makes people happier, so she learns how to mask it behind a smile and a lie. Adults seem to like telling her to smile.

...

[darkblessed]

pov: you're an adventurer and you open an ancient tomb or ruined temple to find a saint sleeping inside.

[tojicide]

OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the  steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost. 

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Is that right?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard! sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

new note: a part 2 of this fic is in the works! if you want to be tagged, comment or send me an ask ♥︎

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[mkarchin713]

The first person to interact with Danny during the day is not a Bat but Jim Gordon.

Apparently the ME missed something during the autopsy that was quickly discovered and reported by mortician Danny. (This missing evidence could be from corruption or Danny talking to the victims ghost and knowing what to look for)

At first Jim can’t put his finger on why Danny looks so familiar, he is more interested on getting Danny’s statement.

It is only layer at the Policemen’s Ball, being hosted at Wayne Manor, that Jim realizes that Danny Fenton looks just like Thomas Wayne.

Jim tells Babs all about the coincidence when he gets home. This leads Babs to investigate Danny Fenton as there have been enough clone/alternate dimension/time travel shenanigans for her to be wary of the Wayne Doppelgänger. What she finds is worrying and strange.

Danny Fenton was born on the day Thomas Wayne died.

Danny Fenton has Mad Scientists for Parents. Mad scientists who seem to have a connection to the League of Assassins, there is no way ‘ectoplasm’ and Lazarus water aren’t connected.

Danny Fenton’s godfather is Vlad Masters, whose company is known for being the first company to introduce cloning technology to the public.

Danny Fenton was placed on numerous watch lists by an organization only known as the GIW

Danny Fenton has a sealed file on ARGUS’s mainframe.

Babs doesn’t know if this Danny Fenton is a clone or what, but she is not going to let him hurt her family, not if she can help it.

After moving to Gotham and having to deal with a stressful job, Danny has started taking walks around the city as a way to destress.

Since he knows that he could get mugged, he just becomes intangible and invisible while listening to some loud music on his phone.

Unfortunately for him, his control on his Invisibility keeps slipping when he gets lost in his music, and the people of Gotham keep seeing a semi-translucent ghost man walking around at night aimlessly.

Some thugs think it’s just a meta with invisibility and try to mug him, but pass right through and he disappears completely. This convinces them that he is a ghost, since having both invisibility, and intangibility would be too big a coincidence. Not to mention he never reacts to them whatsoever.

The Bat’s get word that a Ghost has been stalking the streets of Gotham, and he looks scarily like Bruce Wayne from the little they have been able to see from him. Now Batman thinks his dad may have come back as a ghost.

Danny is oblivious to all of this. He just likes his nightly strolls.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

[wonderjanga]

You Knew the Demon Head?

For this AU, I suppose we’d have to pretend that Ra’s al Ghul isn’t hundreds of years old, but rather thousands. So pretend for that this specific post he is.

Billy got a call from Nightwing. The man said he’d meant to call for Batman but had instead fumbled and called him instead for help. Cap still came to see if they needed anything. See, it turned out that Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin were all patrolling when one of them found Lazarus Pit. So, now all four of them, now with the added Captain Marvel, were all standing around the Pit watching the green liquid.

Marvel: “Geez it’s been a long while since I’ve seen a Lazarus pit.”

Red Robin: “You know what these are?”

Marvel: “Yeah, I had a friend who used them to stay young.”

Robin!Damian: “The only people who use them for that purpose of the League of Assassins.”

Marvel: “Oh? You know about the League of Assassins, Robin five?”

Robin!Damian: “Robin five…?” *looks him up and down before shaking his head* “I was apart of them.”

Marvel: “Wait, really?”

Robin!Damian: “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wow… Y’know, I haven’t heard that name in so long, and think I get to meet a real life member again. You’re sort of young, but I do remember Ra’s mentioning taking in orphans.”

Robin!Damian: “You say that like you knew my grandfather.”

Marvel: “Ra’s is your grandpa?” *looks him up and down* “I don’t really see the resemblance.”

Robin!Damian: “I’ve been told I look more like my father.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “Uh, Cheese? How do you know about the League of Assassins? Let alone Ra’s al Ghul. I would’ve thought something like this was a little too… gritty for you.”

Marvel: “What’s that mean?”

Red Hood: “He means you’re like a ball of sunshine, and that people like you don’t really associate with stuff like assassins. You normally fight mad scientists or witches or whatever.”

Marvel: “Uh… Red Hood? Your name is Red Hood right?”

Red Hood: *nods head*

Marvel: “I fight against monsters, mind control, and Nazis on an almost daily basis. This isn’t really above me.” *looks back to Nightwing* “Anyways, you asked how I knew him, right?”

Nightwing: *nods head*

Marvel: “Well, you see, a long time ago we used to be best buds!” *all smiley*

*another silence*

Nightwing: “What…?”

Red Robin: “You were best buds with the head of a- sorry, the organization of assassins.”

Marvel: “Yeah! Me and Ra’s go away back. Like thousands upon thousands of years back. I was actually apart of the original LoA if you think about it.

Robin!Damian: “So you and grandfather were comrades?”

Marvel: “Guess so. But we stopped talking ever since I died.”

Red Hood: “Huh…?”

Marvel: “I die, I revive as a new person, and then I remember who I was before, if that makes sense. That’s happened multiple times.” *trying to be as vague about the Champion of Magic stuff as possible*

Red Robin: “So you reincarnate?”

Marvel: “Something like that. It’s not really reincarnation because it’s not my soul that gets reincarnated, it’s mostly just my memories. I become a completely different person.” *looks to Damian* “That’s probably why when your grandpa and I met again, he was a little upset that I wasn’t the me he knew before.”

Robin!Damian: “You’ve both met again?”

Marvel: “We’ve met multiple times over the years. He’s still a little salty whenever he sees me, but I think it’s gone down a little bit.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “I’m still confused though! How do you just become besties with the Demon’s Head?”

Marvel: “Well, he wasn’t always the Demon’s Head, Robin one. He used to be a healer.”

Robin!Damian: “Grandfather was a healer?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he understood germ theory before literally anyone else. You know that right? He was a brilliant man, really. Anyways, when I was just a normal kid before I got my memories, we became friends. Then, when I got my powers and memories back, me and the tribe helped him take over the city.”

Red Hood: “What city?”

Marvel: “You know, the city. The one that Ra’s and his tribe took over after a king sentenced him to killing his own wife, even though the prince of that city actually killed wife.” *said all of that in one breath*

Robin!Damian: “I have a grandmother?”

Marvel: “Yup! I have no idea who your parent is though because when she died, I don’t recall them having any children.”

Red Robin: “I love how you’re dropping all of this lore like it’s nothing.”

Marvel: “Fun fact, after taking over the city, that’s when he started calling himself the Demon’s Head I think.”

Marvel continued to drop multiple lore bombs about Ra’s after that. Meanwhile, Ra’s is minding his own business somewhere else.

Ra’s al Ghul: *pauses whatever he was doing* “Something just happened…”

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 3- Gotham's most beloved

______________________________

"wha- AGHHHHHHH, SHIT, THIS ISN'T MY FAULT", you try to tell the system "STOP! PLEASE!"

Alfred runs to you, "Miss what's wrong?", when he touches you, he feels it too, he lets go immediately, thousands of questions on his head "Miss?"

The system cannot be known. Use 5000 points for memory erasure or face another penalty

Time: 5 minutes

Penalty: death

"I GET IT! STOP! IT WASN'T MY FAULT PLEASE!! I DIDN'T KNOW HE FOLLOWED! PLEASE STOP" You yell

After the penalty was over, your breathing was heavy, tears struck on your face, the food toppled over from your squirming and crying

Alfred is right there. Looking at you with shock and worry "Miss (Name) what-" before he could finish his question, you moved

-5000 points

•memory erasure 2 minutes

He forgets, now he's just standing there awkwardly, not knowing why 2 minutes ago while he was watching from afar it was neat cute set up but now it's messy and spilled

"Alfred... Why did you come!?" You yell at him

He seemed taken aback "Miss I just felt you shouldn't spend your birthday alone, I was worried"

The pain in your body has subsided and you stand up, getting out of the tent, not caring for the rain "Can't you just act like the rest of them!? Can't you just hate me!?!"

His eyes looked at you with pity, but that only fueled your anger, you didn't need pity, you didn't want pity

"But Miss, I'm not like the rest of them, I care-"

"No you don't. You feel obligated, you devoted yourself to Thomas and Martha, you feel devoted to take care of the only thing they left, Bruce. And your loyal to him and everyone Bruce cared about, the only reason you're here is because I share the blood of your previous masters, you're not here because of me. You don't know who I am" you yell

You have a right to feel angry, you just got electrocuted because of him, he doesn't know that, well, he forgot

He knows you're right, that's why he's doing this, he wants all he Wayne's to get along, that's what Thomas and Martha would want "Miss... I know master Bruce has his shortcomings, no father should have neglected their own daughter-"

"tell that to your own daughter, the one you left in England to serve the Waynes"

He freezes.

You don't understand why the authors of this concept write Alfred as a good guy

"How is Julia? When was the last time you saw her?" You ask "Go keep taking care of the Waynes leave me be"

"Miss (Name), you are also a Wayne" he says

"No I'm not, I am my mother's daughter, not Bruce's, how can I be his daughter when he doesn't act like my father?"

______________________________

You wake up feeling shitty, your body hurts, your brain hurts, and your heart feels heavy, you should be used to it by now

No one in this house is ever going to be on your side, Alfred didn't care about you, he just wanted to preserve Thomas and Martha Wayne's blood

He knew you've been going and living with your mother's last name

And you've just spent 5000 points, you were saving up to buy a mirror that could see back in your previous world, it was 1000000 points

This sucks. You wanted your mom, and your other mom... And your real dad, and your real siblings, not these condescending assholes

In every reincarnation story, it's either possible or impossible to return back to your original world, you don't know if it's possible

"System?"

Yes?

"Is it possible for my return... In my original world?"

It is possible

Holy fuck, you jump out of bed "How!?"

You already know how

"what!? No I don't!"

You do

"is this like a Dorothy situation? Do I just shut my eyes and click my heels three times?"

You sigh, you might as well try, you close your eyes, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home"

You open them and find yourself still in your bedroom "Well now I just feel stupid."

"Miss (Name)?" A knock on your door, "Breakfast is ready, please come down" It's Alfred

You cringe and remember your outburst last night, you were just so angry that he made you fail your mission and got you electrocuted

After a few seconds of silence he knocked again "young Miss... Are you angry with me?" He asks

Yes you are. You don't like how he claims to care but whenever he sees you being bullied by one of Bruce's kids he doesn't reprimand them, whenever Bruce misses an award ceremony, he doesn't force him to go, how do you think you got away without being known as a Wayne for 2 years?

"I'm skipping breakfast" you say (no you're not)

From your 563th mission, you had to perform a violin concert without any of your family members attending, it was easy enough and the reward was a magic mini fridge that gives you whatever food you want

As by the system's words "A neglected reader isn't worthy of eating with their family, they eat alone"

You open the fridge and somehow end up with fresh hot pancakes and syrup

______________________________

You walk through the streets of Gotham, you're 12 your bag is loaded with shit, pepper spray, a pocket knife disguised as a ball pen, and a taser

Why is it always raining in Gotham?

You've been dodging Alfred for the past few days, you can't rely on your magic fridge forever since Alfred will start wondering if you're starving yourself or something

"Jollibee..." You see the building in a far distance, near it you see a child in worn out clothes, he seemed to be selling something

Ah... He's selling flowers...

As you spot the cart behind him still full, he didn't sell much, you also see some girl toys at the bottom of his cart

You enter the restaurant "3 orders of C3 please, to go"

"um miss... Can you please separate the orders, 2 and 1, for the 2 please add some peach mango pies" you add

You wait for a while, subtly eyeing the kid, and your hunch was right an even smaller girl came with two umbrellas, the boy had a little sister

After getting the order, you come near them, is this weird? Approaching a boy, a little younger than you and giving them food, the boy looked about 8 and the girl 6

"Miss..." He looks embarrassed "We can't pay you for the food..."

"that's fine, just give me a flower" you smile "And also... Do you live in a neighborhood?", he tilts his head "Yes Miss I do"

"you should just work for your neighbors, don't stray too far from home, Gotham is dangerous" you feel kind of a hypocrite since you use to do the same things this boy did, at an even younger age "so your sister won't have to fetch you when it's raining, both of you might get sick"

He smiled at you "Yes Miss, thank you again"

You walk away, no matter how many years you've been living here, you still hate it, you were either born very lucky or very unlucky in Gotham

You see a woman under a bus stop on call with someone on her phone "Sweetie... Mommy is going to be late tonight, I don't have an umbrella, just sit tight there okay?" She hangs up "Should I just make a run for it?" You hear her say

Then you remember, your mom once came home soaked and feverish, she had promised to buy you takeout since you cooked for her the day before, she was worried you'd sleep without eating anything so she ran through the rain to be able to eat with you

It was fine, you had a jacket anyway, you pull the hood of your jacket to your head and approach the lady "Ma'am, do you need this?" You hand her your umbrella

She looked shocked "oh I can't possibly take this from you!", you give it to her nonetheless "It's alright ma'am, I have a jacket and my house is very near" (the house is a lie obviously), she smiles at you "Thank you so much, I left my daughter at home and god knows how hungry she is right now, take care okay? The roads are slippery" she says before leaving

You underestimated the rain and ended up soaking wet by the time you're at the manor, Alfred greets you and he looks away from you, he seems worried about your state but is ashamed

Then you hand him the flower you got earlier "Im sorry I lashed out" you say

"thank you miss... And I'm sorry for disturbing you when you visited your mother, I shouldn't have overstepped" he says

He meets your eyes and guides you to sit down at the kitchen, he comes back with a towel and dries you off

You need at least one person who cares for you, at least one

______________________________

You wake up the next day, finally comfortable to eat downstairs because reconciling with Alfred, you're the first one here, guess the family is still asleep, or maybe they already ate, you don't know, you pick up a news paper and-

"Gotham's angel.

Spotted giving food to children, and giving away her umbrella in the cold rain, we found that this kind girl is none other than Bruce Wayne's hidden daughter! After investigating some more we found out that (Name) Wayne donates books and toys to an orphanage without even her own father knowing!"

"Because that's the orphanage I stayed in!" You panic, you wanted to still be able to visit the few friends you managed to make in your days there

"She also tutors children from a poor neighborhood for years without charge and doesn't tell her family! True kindness doesn't need an audience but years of compassion from (Name) Wayne should be recognized, she's been helping other people for years without anyone knowing, a true angel!"

"That place was my old neighborhood!? What is this angel bullshit???" Hello??? Again those children are your friends!??

You've unlocked a special event!

Most Neglected readers blend in the background, but in some cases, they become popular through either being a celebrity or becoming a business man

You have become famous! Continue being famous and gain fans!

Special mission: Make the public like you even more, to 100%

Public love meter: 60%

Time: 1 week

Special reward: bulletproofing (Gotham is a dangerous place! Who says you need to be from krypton for bullets to bounce off you? Everything you wear becomes bulletproof!)

"So... If non-common tropes of neglected au can happen... Like if the reader gets famous, does this mean I can get superpowers?" You whisper to yourself

No you cannot. You already have me, don't be greedy ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

"ah.. sorry system" you whisper again

______________________________

Reader: having flashbacks to when she was poor and doing good deeds to those she meets that resembles her past situation

Gotham: an angel?

______________________________

@yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist

[starlightkyeom]

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.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ DESPERATION INCARNATE yan! xiao / gn! reader

in every life, he had sworn to protect you. in every life, he had failed. in this life, he'll make sure that it won't happen again. to keep the you in this life from ever slipping away from him like you did so many times before.

in which xiao falls in love with you in every life and slowly goes insane.

( reincarnation au, w4r, lots of blo0dshed and decápitation, graphic description of vi0lence, mention of xiao's sl4very, deáth... lots of it, sort of enabler aether but for a lil bit, the beginnings of a yandere, angst. lots of it as well )

“you know, yéyé says that if you make a wish on a dandelion seed, then your wishes will come true!”

the unnamed adeptus fixes his golden gaze on a fellow prisoner, sitting across from him with a bright smile. the prisoners around them have given up already, with their dull, glazed eyes and the repeated prayers of deàth spilling from their cracked lips. but this odd one, although their face caked with grime and their hair matted from bloòd, smiles at him from the darkness.

“... dandelion seed?” he goes, not bothering to wince or be embarrassed by his raspy voice. this dull life strips you of your dignity and pride. there’s no use in saving face when you’re looking at deàth right in the eyes. “i have never heard of such a thing.”

“oh, you don’t know?” the little prisoner cocks their head at him. “it’s a curious thing! it’s a flower with fluffy petals covering the middle part. yéyé said that whenever he takes a walk on the borders between liyue and mondstadt, he’d pick some for himself and make a wish!”

the adeptus scoffs. “wishes have no place in my world. actions must be taken if you want results. your grandfather sounds foolish. now be quiet, lest you want the god to take care of that noisy tongue of yours.”

his fellow mate sticks said tongue out at him and gives him a dirty glare. “how rude! my yéyé is the smartest one in our village, you know. he takes a record of all the crops harvested. he’s veeery important! besides, don’t you want to know what he wished for?”

he sighs. it wouldn’t hurt to indulge this one’s yapping for a little more time. the painful groans were starting to take a toll on him and conversation, no matter how foolish the premise sounded, was a nice change of pace. even if his throat was hurting from use because of the god’s neglect to give them drinkable water. “what is it, then?”

they grin at him. “he wished for mondstadt’s harsh winds to disappear! isn’t he cool?”

“why wouldn’t he use the wish for himself?” he cocks his head. “it seems to be more efficient and logical.”

the little prisoner stares at them from behind their bars.

“... what.”

“you are so dull to talk to.”

ugh, this little—! they were the one who started the conversation! before alatus could snap something back, they fall back dramatically and shake their head at him in a pitying manner. “wishes aren’t made to be efficient and logical, stupid! they won’t always work! that’s why they’re just wishes!”

he decides that this thing is absolutely aggravating to talk to, but he won’t deny that he likes their company. “then what’s the use of doing something so useless?”

they laugh. it echoes through their cell, a pleasant tune before it escapes through the bars and gets lost in the sad symphony of groans and lifeless pleas. they continue to laugh like they were underneath liyue’s vast blue skies instead of an underground tomb. “isn’t it obvious, mister adeptus? it’s for hope!

“if you wish on a dandelion and blow the seeds away, your wish will be carried for all of teyvat to hear! and then– and then! even if it’s just a teeny bit of hope, you’ll start to feel that everything can be possible!”

“sounds inefficient.”

“that’s why i said you’re so dull to talk to.”

“hmph.”

“i don’t understand why you keep coming back down here, mister adeptus,” comes the familiar cheery voice of his once prison mate. the surrounding cells are all empty, filled with corpses of the dead long gone. the young god has no time to spare any thought for the useless mortals hanging in his underground prison. the adeptus slides a tray of milk and bread between the bars and into the lap of a grinning face.

even you, he thinks as he examines their sallow face and dry lips. you have been forgotten.

 “you have plenty of companions upstairs. shouldn’t you be celebrating and parading around with them? i heard through the cracks that you’ve got plenty of rice wine to waste.”

“they are not my companions,” he snaps, but they don’t flinch as they snack on the food. “they’re fools who waste their time mindlessly partying and deriving pleasure from the pain of the weak. and i’m… i am nothing more than the god’s plaything.”

he sinks to the ground, sighing. “... [your name],” he whispers, staring at them tearfully from behind bars. “i will get us out of here, i promise.” his hands, shaking and caked with blood, gently reach for their cheek. it’s rough and awfully thin, and something in his chest breaks whenever he sees such a beautiful thing covered in dirt like they were nothing. “i’ll get you back to your village. i’ll make sure that you’ll see your grandfather and your siblings again.”

their hands squeeze his lightly, not having the energy to reciprocate his tenderness like they used to. “i know,” they whisper back to him. they smile up at him, though it is now weak and shaky. “... your hair is green.”

his brows knit together in confusion, but they brush back a few stray strands and smile at the feel of it in their palm. “... i’ve never seen a dandelion, you know. but my yéyé says that dandelions are green. i don’t know if it’s this shade of green but…” you close your eyes and chuckle. “it’s nice to know that i have my own dandelion right in front of me.”

“...?!”

“my dandelion… i have a wish to make,” you mumble to him. alatus closes in, ready to serve you your heart’s deepest desires.

“anything… anything you want, [your name], i’ll make it come true. so…!”

“smile for me, will you?” you peer up at him, watching confusion take over his delicate yet rough features. “you always look so sad. as my dearest friend…

“my only wish is that i see you smile. even if it’s just once.”

the adeptus returns the next day, milk and bread on a tray once more. they are wasted on the floor.

a corpse smiles from the shadows of the cell.

he thinks back to the wish he couldn’t fulfill yesterday. try as he might, it’s hard to stretch his lips into a genuine smile.

maybe it’s because he’s collapsed on the ground, yelling in pain as his whole world blissfully sleeps in the corner.

maybe it’s because whenever he tries to smile, it doesn’t feel right.

not when there’s no one to smile for anymore.

the end is nowhere in sight, yet rex lapis keeps pushing forward.

alatus’ spear plunges into the guts of the demons, spurting black blood over his lithe body as he pulls it out. around him, his fellow yakshas are also hard at work. bosacius tears bodies apart with his four bare hands, splattering more blood and leaving a gruesome sight behind. menogias clicks his tongue and furrows his eyes at the electro yaksha in disapproval.

“can’t you be a bit more graceful, bosacius?” he steps out of the way as bonanus and indarias team up to fling a particularly mighty foe across his way. “these corpses are dismal to look at!”

bosacius laughs boisterously, hoisting an enemy up in the air and cracking their skull on a rock in one fell swoop. “i can’t be bothered, brother! this is the way bosacius fights! with bare hands and strength! corpses are not meant to be looked at anyway!” crack. crack. the gruesome sounds of his fighting are lost in the sounds of war around them.

with a clever twist of his body, alatus sends a corpse to the four-handed idiot to which he skillfully catches without even sparing a glance. “less talking, more fighting,” he says ever so curtly. “rex lapis requires our immediate assistance. do not dally.”

bosacius and menogias send each other a knowing glance, quite familiar with alatus’ undying loyalty to their senior adeptus. the fighting continues and alatus continues to let himself get lost in the chaos, never minding the mysterious ache that binds his chest tighter and tighter with every demon purged. when the battle is won, no one celebrates. it’s hard to, when you feel the blood of the thousands you have massacred drying on your skin. alatus approaches rex lapis, his toned back shadowed by the rising sun as he overlooks the aftermath of the war.

“you’ve fought well, alatus,” rex lapis’ deep voice acknowledges him, brown eyes still steady on the horizon. “you do well to keep the contract.”

“i do not need a contract to serve you, rex lapis,” alatus starts humbly, lowering his gaze in respect. “i owe you my freedom and life.”

“you say that, yet i now have you enslaved to kill for another cause. to me, there is no difference.” rex lapis casts a glace on his most loyal follower. “yet you say that i have given you freedom.”

alatus takes note of the dry bitterness underneath rex lapis’ otherwise gravel tone. “i have signed the contract of my own free will,” he professes, daring to gaze his golden eyes into his lord’s similar ones. “you need not worry about me, my lord.”

rex lapis chuckles, before beckoning alatus to his side. “look at her harsh winds and cold peaks,” the senior adeptus muses. “our nation is blessed with vast plains and tall mountains, but our neighbors shoulder the bitter cold while fighting their side of the archon war.”

“indeed,” alatus could only say. “but your victory is sure now, my lord. soon you will rebuild liyue to glory once you’ve taken the seat of the seven.”

“mmm, yes,” rex lapis hums. “the war nears its end. seven victors from different nations, including bitter and wintry mondstadt. i wonder what sort of archon will rise from mondstadt. our borders are joined together— while violetgrass root themselves on the stony sides of our mountains, their dandelions withstand harsh winds even as their seeds threaten to fly. perhaps their new archon can give them a home where they can grow unbothered, while i build our citizens to be as resilient as a violetgrass.”

… dandelions…

“apologies for the unnecessary question, my lord, but… have you seen a dandelion?”

“oh, they’re curious little things indeed. native to mondstadt. if guizhong had time, she used to walk by the borders and pluck them to make a wish.”

alatus’s breath hitches at the familiar tale. “... what did she wish for, if i would be permitted to know?”

rex lapis’ lips turn into a half-smile, hardened eyes softening at the memories of a dear friend long gone. “she wished for liyue to prosper under my rule. never used a wish on herself.”

“... huh.” the wind blows back alatus’s matted hair, revealing forlorn eyes as they gaze at the sun. “... i wonder why they all do that.”

“does this all sound familiar to you, alatus?” the younger adeptus looks up to see his lord gazing at him with a soft look. alatus shakes his head and straightens his back, taking on the stance of a soldier once again.

“no. this is not the time for me to be concerned with another nation’s trivialities.” he bows his head to the adeptus and starts to make his exit. he doesn’t know why, but a gloved hand takes one of the stray strands of hair self-consciously and turns back to rex lapis. “another question… if i may be so impudent to ask.”

“impudence is not a word to be used on you, alatus. go ahead.”

for a moment, alatus’s confused and conflicted face makes him look like the young adeptus rex lapis saved from the hands of a cruel god. now he is not a battle-hardened soldier, but a lost boy who doesn’t know what to do. “... is the shade of my hair… similar to that of a dandelion?”

the older adeptus cocks his head at the unusual question. “far from it, no.” he studies alatus’s look of disappointment as he lets go of the strand. “why do you ask?”

“... nothing, my lord.”

moments of respite like this are rare in this current era of warfare, so soldiers cherish every single second of it. but for alatus who has only known bloodshed ever since his days at the mercy of the young god, this temporary peacefulness is a waste of time. in a camp just outside of liyue harbor, alatus and his fellowmen idle around a crackling campfire.

“you’re too fidgety, alatus-gē,” pervases laughs as he takes a bite out of his grilled ticker fish. he raises one to alatus’s face. “care for one?” when the senior adeptus scowls and turns his head away, he shrugs and scoffs it down stick and all in one gulp. “more for me then.”

“those malevolent gods continue to let their underlings rampage as we sit here and idle,” alatus frowned at the seemingly peaceful campsite of his fellow yakshas and even a few outstanding mortal warriors. “we should be making plans and calling reinforcements. the war will not end unless we bring that monster down to its watery grave.”

“oh my,” comes a motherly sigh. a young woman with silvery gray hair smiles slyly at alatus. her slender figure stretches across the log serving as a seat in front of the campfire, the cleansing bell tinkling delicately at her side. “you youngsters are quite eager to get into danger these days. not everyone has the energy to keep battling, you know? why i—” she sighs mournfully, pressing her fingers to a supple cheek “— even i need my beauty sleep. charging into the fray daily with no rest is just too much!”

“ping,” he addresses the newcomer. “i see that you are as vain as ever. if you’re not willing to put your all into this war, why did you even enter the contract?”

“i am upholding my end of the contract,” huffs ping. “but only within reason! you’re the one who’s out of reason.” she waves him off with her hand, shooing him off like a stray dog. “take a walk or something. call it a night patrol to ease yourself. i’m afraid your scowl is going to affect me and give me wrinkles.”

alatus takes a good moment to ponder the suggestion before he feels ping’s eyes narrowing at him threateningly. with a deep sigh, he takes his spear with him and teleports himself to a quiet walkway some ways off the guili assembly. war had touched this side of liyue too, it seemed, with swords rusted with blood plunged to the ground and tattered kerchiefs belonging to soldiers waving solemnly in the air. alatus knows this place to once been the safe haven of rex lapis and the late guizhong’s people before the war took the sweet goddess’ life and perished her to dust. now it is mere ruins, a reminder of the evil deities are willing to commit for power.

alatus has years of battle experience under his belt, but it doesn’t make the feeling any better as he stares at these relics. he focuses his gaze on the moon and walks by.

… rumble rumble…

a weathering wall shakes just a few steps away, alerting alatus’s senses. he quickly arms his spear as he vigilantly approaches the spot. the place is teeming with ruin guards and other dangerous mechanisms and although mindless machines are no match for him, alatus is not one to underestimate an opponent. when he peeks around the corner, it is not the eerie glowing eye of a machine but a pair of eyes about to glaze over.

covered in soot and dirt, a raspy voice tries to speak out, “w… wa… ter…”

alatus blinks in surprise when he finds a human instead but quickly teleports somewhere to get drinkable water. in a moment, he appears again in front of them and swiftly tips the saucer into their mouth. gently lifting their head, he watches as they desperately glug down the water. some of it spills from the sides, but the light in their eyes quickly revives until they pull away with a gasp.

“ugh… ha! i thought i was a goner there!”

alatus freezes.

two shining [eye color] eyes peer up at him gratefully as a wide grin spreads across their face.

“thanks a lot, mister adeptus.”

they are escorted into liyue harbor. alatus does not talk to them or even spare them a glance, afraid of whatever feelings that may arise should he do so. he’s aware of the curious glance they send his way, scrutinizing his every inch. he doesn’t like how they stare at him with awe and absolute trust. this is an era of warring gods, where adepti like him dig into flesh and blood to pursue their ambition. fools who cling to whoever feeds them die easily.

they continue staring. it feels like fire as his guilt and memories long pushed away pour from his heart and threaten to consume him whole. his steps feel heavier, as if any second now and the earth will cave in and send him straight to hell. unconsciously, his eyes glance back to them and they… smile.

it hurts.

flashes of a corpse long gone come back to him and he tears his eyes away. he shakes this haunting feeling away, yet their stare that bears the weight of decades' guilt continues to burden him all the way to camp.

"ping," he says gruffly, catching the attention of the group. everyone's a bit startled at the arrival of a newcomer, a dusty and malnourished one at that, but even more so that alatus decided to trek uphill instead of just conveniently teleporting himself. "take care of this one," is all he curtly says before plopping down underneath a tree and closing his eyes.

ping huffs in disdain and gives him a dirty look, but quickly changes it to give the newcomer a warm smile. “come now, sweetie,” she coos, placing a comforting palm on the small of their back and escorting them to the bonfire. “you’re positively shivering! it makes sense, given that that yaksha’s always so cold.” at this alatus grunts, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “here’s some soup and a blanket to cover you with. my gosh, you’re so dirty! what have you been doing? playing around in the mud?”

you eagerly take her up on her offer, and soon you’re swaddled in a thick blanket and bowl of carrot soup to enjoy in front of the fire. “i was actually studying some of the leftover ruins at the assembly. i thought that maybe i could get some useful things and use them for myself.”

ping gasps dramatically at your story– a young adult scrapping for leftovers in the middle of the war– and alatus rolls his eyes. “poor, poor thing!” she cries and draws you in for a hug. “don’t worry. here at morax’s camp, you won’t have to suffer through that anymore! you’ll be cared for until we can find a suitable place for you and the other survivors to live!”

you laugh. “i think you have the wrong impression, ms. adeptus, i’ve had it pretty easy compared to others during this war. what i’ve been scrapping are materials!”

ping cocks her head, and alatus even peeks out from the tree he’s hiding behind. “materials, darling?”

“yes! screws, tree bark, metal, you name it. i’m finding them so i can continue making my gadgets.” you fish into your bag, and they can hear the clanking of metal and other stuff as you sift through the mess. “ah, here it is, one of my favorites!” you pull out a curious box, the cuhui wood engraved with liyuean details. you gently snap the box open and reveal a little figurine made out of precious stone, frozen in an elegant twirl reminiscent of liyue’s traditional dances. you begin to crank the little knob at its side, and when you release it a pleasant tinkling of sounds fills the night air.

ping stares wide-eyed at the pretty treasure, listening to its sounds with a fond look on her face. even pervasive hums as he gnaws on his nth fish, his scratchy voice humming along with the old lullaby. other nearby campers close their eyes and let their minds wander for a while, to a place where lullabies such as this sang all day and wars didn’t raze grass and civilians to the ground. for a moment, they let themselves be deluded into a moment of peace.

when the tinkling fades away, only the crackling of the fire remains. “pretty, isn’t it?” it takes ping a moment to snap out of her trance before nodding enthusiastically.

“quite! oh, if it didn’t look so perfect slotted between your hands, i might have snatched it for myself! although,” she nervously chuckles, feeling the stern gaze of the silent adeptus lounging behind the tree. “i might not have the chance anyway. a certain someone has been glaring at me ever since i conceived the thought.”

“maybe he wants it for himself?” pervases jokes. “he could do with it, what with all that stress.”

“hmph, i’ve no need for such trivial things.” he goes back to resting against the trunk without another word.

ping sighs and shakes her head at you, like a disappointed mother. “he’s always like that,” she laments. “he’s morax’s most faithful servant, i’ll tell you that, but sometimes it makes me wonder what will happen after this war is over. surely he won’t be going around slaughtering monsters?!” she raises her hand to her mouth like the thought was too unforgivable.

pervases hummed, thinking hard and long about how his senior would act in a time of peace. “hmm… i think alatus-ge would like to fish. he seems like the type.”

the image of the bloody general fishing floats above your three heads. ping waves it away. “as if!” she scoffs. “he’d just spear the fish and be done with it!”

“what kind of person do you think alatus-ge is…?”

“alatus, alatus!”

something twists at his gut, a mix of anticipation and dread, but he stops in his tracks to wait for you. you catch your breath beside him. “you’re so fast for someone so short!” you complain. “how do you do it?”

“slowness isn’t an option on the battlefield,” alatus curtly says before turning to assess. you’re covered head to toe in dirt, and your fingers are covered in grime like you’ve been digging. he sighs and rubs a speck of dirt from your cheek. “another one of your foraging hunts? you can always tell me if you need something. it’s too dangerous outside the camp.”

“i used to tell you, didn’t i?” you pout. “but you can’t tell the difference between a cork and a screw!”

alatus blushes. he can’t really wrap his head around these machineries. whenever you and cloud retainer got into one of your excited conversations about tinkering and machinery, alatus could only pretend like everything you just said didn’t make his head spin. if you got into another of your rants about the intricacies of machines or whatever, everything you said went into one ear and out the other.

“but you still listen, don’t you?” ping and pervases teased him with knowing grins. he had hit them over the head after that.

“... tus! alatus! ugh, you’re not listening again!” you had gotten into a lecture of the differences between corks and screws, but now you shake him by the shoulder with furrowed brows. “you’re always like this. is machinery really too hard for you?”

“everyone has their strengths.” he ruffles your hair, smiling softly when you visibly relax. “you wouldn’t want me to tell you about how to efficiently kill geovishaps, do you?” when you make a face, he laughs slightly. “thought so.”

“they just… ugh. they just smell so bad!”

“... they smell like rocks.”

as the two of you finish the rest of his patrol, alatus doesn’t miss a moment to watch your every movement. here, under the red rays of dusk, you look so alive. your cheeks could be healthier, but alatus is comforted with the knowledge that you stuffed yourself full this morning. your eyes have a twinkle in them, not the last sparks of ember that you had tried to hold on for so long. and you smile… because you want to. not because you had to. not because you had to comfort your fellow friend in prison.

“looks like we’ve walked too far,” alatus comments, sighting the dandelions swaying in the distance. “we should head back to camp before it gets too dark.”

“oooh, dandelions,” you muse. you and alatus stand side by side, taking in the dandelions swaying in their pastel heads swaying in the wind. “i heard they were pretty, but seeing them in person is better.”

standing by your side, alatus takes in your countenance. there is an indistinguishable look in your eyes as you watch their seeded heads bob and sway, your smile somewhere between content and forlorn. the setting sun paints your face with an orange hue, only serving to make you look as if you’ve come out of an oil painting itself. alatus’s breath hitches and he tears his eyes away from you.

self-consciously, he rubs a teal strand of his hair before tucking it back. “do… does my hair…” you turn your gaze to him questioningly, and his pale face burns at the embarrassing predicament he’s put himself in. “does my hair look like the dandelions?”

you stare at him for quite some time, only blinking and not saying anything, before you tilt your head back and laugh. alatus’s face only reddens further and he hits you with his elbow in his embarrassment. you only continue to laugh, even as alatus is beginning to throttle you and beg you to pay no heed to his words. when you’re done laughing, alatus huffs at you and refuses to look at you.

“oh, you… silly adeptus, i would have mistaken you for a pure-hearted maiden there!” you giggle into your hand, and alatus’s brows knit themselves in huffiness as you continue to tease him. “come on, you have eyes. they’re not even close in color!”

he kicks you lightly in the shin, before turning around and walking off to the distance. “come on. let’s head to camp before night,” he says as if nothing’s happened. you stare at his back for a while, a teasing smile on your face, before shaking it off and hurrying to catch up to him. when you catch up to him, you leap at him with your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair with a bright smile on your face.

“don’t be too grumpy, alatus!” you laugh, even as he sends you a look of frustration. “once this is all over, we’ll come back to this place and make wishes on those dandelions!”

“don’t forget about me, mister servant,” you lightly laugh behind your bars. “bring me lots of food, okay? then once you get me outta here, we’ll have a big ol’ feast at my yéyé’s.”

one of the guards tug at alatus’s shackles but he clings to your cell even as they grunt and pull. “[your name], i’m not leaving you! i can’t! i won’t!”

you chuckle. “stupid mister adeptus. who’s going to swipe cake for me then? now go, shoo.” you wave him away, smiling weakly. “i know you’ll come back for me. you always will.”

you’ve always had a knack for being the unluckiest person alive. even if your smile was so bright that it seemed to ward off evil, tragedy always seemed to tightly coil around your neck like a noose. he wanted to be the one to cut it off, in both the last life and this.

once again, he always seemed to be too late.

“they’ve broken through the formation!” indarias yells, slamming a fiery fist through her enemies. the pyro-blessed yaksha, usually so playful and coy, looks at her comrades with panic. “there’s no one left at the camp to defend them anymore. they’re— they’re all—!” she swallows down the bitter reality, pervases and her other comrades’ gored bodies flashing through her mind. “the civilians can’t defend themselves from all those monsters!”

“shit.” menogias slices through a foe and turns to their youngest, standing atop a pile of bloodied corpses. karmic debt wraps him and the other yakshas like a dense fog, and it gets harder to breathe with every passing second. still, he calls out to him.

“alatus—!”

the young yaksha only spares him a golden glance, before slipping the bloodied mask on. “you don’t have to tell me twice.” and he disappears into the air.

you are not there when he reappears at the camp. no one is. everything is on fire, and he can barely see what’s in front of him thanks to all the smoke and ashes polluting the air. he hisses at the burning in his lungs, but he perseveres forward as he strains his ears for any signs of life. the faint clashing of weapons and maniacal laughter is far away, but they grow stronger as he continues.

he steps on something… fleshy. growing dread rises within him as he slowly looks down.

that… is a severed hand.

biting his tongue, he rushes forward through the sea of flames. more and more decapitated limbs and bodies litter the area. arms, legs, torsos, feet… the handiwork of psychopaths, no doubt. because an ordinary soldier would not do this. not to civilians. not to people who could not defend themselves. he sees no face to mourn for. he sees no head to remember.

roars of laughter peal through the air as he braves a wall of fire. as the sky is dyed red with both fire and dawn, alatus’ face pales when he sees the enemies marching around as they shout triumphantly into the chaos.

your head, beautiful as he had always remembered, parades past him on a wooden stake.

when karmic debt takes over, he doesn’t remember anything the next morning when he sobs and cradles your sleeping face, surrounded by the bodies of foes and allies alike.

in your next life, you are both strangers. he looks high and low for you in liyue, but he does not find you.

celestia orders the seven archons to launch an attack on khaenri’ah, and alatus and whoever is left of the adepti is ordered by rex lapis to stand by in liyue and eliminate any escaped khaenri’ahns. although he has nothing against them, he is more than happy to follow his lord’s commands, because he has nothing else left to do but do his duty.

surely enough, the khaenri’ahns have found some escape route that leads up to liyue. unfortunately for them, alatus and the others are there to massacre them without hesitation.

in one of the escapees, his eyes widen behind his mask as he meets your scared eyes. in this life, they have diamonds in them, and they stare back at him with fear and unfamiliarity rather than mischief and friendliness. he thinks you still look beautiful.

even as he drives a spear through your chest.

when the massacre is finished, he tries to find your body. but there are too many of you, bodies upon bodies and the stench of death heavy in the air. he cannot find you, his pearl, in this bloody sea of corpses.

years have passed, and he has not seen you since.

well, that would be a bit false. he does see you, but not… you. he does not walk with you in flower fields to admire your face bathed in sunlight nor does he watch you rummage through ruins for scraps of metal and machines. he does not idly chat with you behind bars to pass the time away nor does he help soft bread to your chapped lips as he comforts you with promises of your freedom and your yéyé.

he sees an image of you, the hallucination that his karmic debt has conjured for him in his nightmares. you smile at him ever so sweetly, joining him in his bed at wangshu inn. you’re always so pure and pretty in your nightdress when you sidle up to him to share in his warmth. but when you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, alatus’ eyes shoot wide open as he feels your hand wrap around his neck and squeeze. he should fight, he could fight, but how could he? your face is twisted in hatred and disappointment, whispering to him about his betrayal and failure to save you. ‘you killed me, you left me, you fed me to the dogs.’

how could he fight back, when all you have said is the truth?

and so alatus, now named xiao, wakes up for another day drenched in his sweat and tears.

he is patrolling guili plains when he spots a familiar head of gold and the tinier head of white walking idly through the grasses. it’s not unusual for aether and paimon to be here, but they’ve thoroughly explored and exhausted this area of any treasures, and last he heard they were in fontaine. he hides away in a tree, observing their usual back and forth as they seem to wait for someone.

“like i’m saying, they’re an hour late!” paimon fumes, stomping the air as she throws a tantrum. “what if someone happened to them? oooh, paimon knew we should’ve picked them up from mondstadt! they’re always so clumsy!”

“oh, don’t get your crown in a twist, paimon,” aether says, nonchalant as ever. he glances towards xiao’s way and hums to himself, as if partaking in a fun little secret (he’s always been so perceptive, xiao muses), and takes a bite out of his sunsettia. “geniuses like [your name] are always like that. losing track of time, getting caught up in some curious thing they encountered on their way… they’ll be here soon, promise.” he hands out his half-eaten sunsettia to paimon. “sunsettia?”

“ew, gross! don’t hand paimon your leftovers!”

xiao perks at the familiar name, opening one eye as he lazily ruminates the familiar syllables in his head. [your name], [your name], [your name]... like he could ever forget that. he whispers it in his sleep, prays to your hallucination like a god, screams it every morning… [your name], [your name], [your name]... he watches aether finish his sunsettia and sighs to himself. he shouldn’t be silly. numerous people with your name have appeared in liyue ever since he’s last seen you, and not one of them was you. he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“— iiii’mmm! so, so sorry!” a sobbed yelp breaks the peace of the plains from the distance. a hefty backpack overshadows the figure carrying it, running as fast as they can with the weight on them. they skid to a stop in front of the traveler and paimon, who greets the newcomer with an amused smile and a huffy face. the backpack ungracefully lands on the grass with a loud clang, and its owner falls alongside it as they try to catch their breath. “i’m so— huff— sorry! i was— hah— on my way here when i— huff— came across a travelling merchant. they had all these goods from fontaine and i— hah— couldn’t resist!”

paimon once again stomps the air. “well, you should try to be more mindful from now on! it’s rude!”

“i’m so~ory,” the eccentric figure whines pitifully. they rummage through their bag and pull out a pretty tin box, the kind used to store cookies. “forgive me, paimon?” in the usual paimon fashion, her eyes twinkle upon seeing the pretty sugar cookies stored inside, and upon the first bite all is finally forgiven.

“hm, is it just me or is someone watching us…?” they wonder, looking around the guili plains for any signs of life. “i feel this, uh, weird pressure. or am i just delusional…?”

when they turn, xiao catches their eyes through the canopy of leaves on the tree he’s occupying. his breath hitches, his eyes widen, and the world seems to halt to a stop.

you unknowingly lock eyes with the adeptus, cocking your head as you try to find the stranger peeking on your little group.

you blink when the pressure is finally gone, and you look back at the highly perceptive traveler in confusion. he only regards you with a small smile and shrugs.

“you’re awfully interested in the engineer, don’t you think?” aether playfully muses as he walks in on one of xiao’s rare times of relaxation. he lounges on wangshu inn’s balcony as he overlooks the scenery beneath him, almond tofu in hand. “why don’t you greet them for yourself then?”

xiao doesn’t spare him a glance as he brings a spoon of the silken food to his mouth. “unnecessary.”

aether rolls his eyes, taking the spot next to xiao as he studies the adeptus with a smile. “don’t be like that, you introvert. you’re always following us around while they go study liyue’s machines. i’m sure zhongli would be pleased to know that you have friends outside of us and the other adepti.” xiao scowls when aether uses his lord as a guilt trip, but doesn’t comment any further. “[your name]’s a wonderful person, if not a bit ditzy at times. i think they and cloud retainer would get aloong quite well if they ever met each other.”

he thinks back to your second life, where you chattered the night away with the crane adeptus about machinery and the like. bathed in the glow of the campfire, alatus would only dare observe from a distance as you talked passionately with stars in your eyes. aether observes as xiao’s eyes soften. “they did.”

the traveller huffs a laugh, slumping his cheek against the wooden railing as he looks out to the scenery too. “reincarnation, huh? there were things like that in other worlds as well.”

he’d never admit it, but he had always been pleased by the fact that aether had the shared experience of living for eras, if not longer. the other adepti were never close to humans, but aether and his sister had always walked alongside mortals in order to observe their stories. xiao lets the wind graze his cheek. “... did you ever have someone you wanted as well?”

“i made many friends but…” aether quirks a small smile, tapping his fingers on the wood lightly. “my sister was really all i needed.” he notes the hidden pain in his voice. “we’ve traversed many worlds together, and we will always have eternity together. but you don’t have someone like that.”

golden eyes meet golden, and xiao shudders at the sly look that aether gives him.

“well, unless you do something to change that.”

‘damn you, aether.’ the traveller’s always been sort of a bastard hiding behind gentle manners and a pretty smile, but he never thought that he’d stoop so low as to awaken the dark feelings that he’s kept repressed for so long. ‘sly dog.’ he makes a mental note to not react when aether calls for him next as some sort of petty revenge.

today, you are alone. your backpack is lighter, thankfully, otherwise you would not be able to travel through the huaguang stone forest’s cliffs and falls. he’s joined you on this journey since you started a few days back, but he continues to grow with paranoia every time he sees you walk too close to the edge. he’s also saved you a few times, summoning wind to stabilize a shaky glide or carrying you further away from the edge when you started rolling in your sleep.

his heart twists when he settles you back in your sleeping bag. he takes in your sleeping face, murmuring nonsense in your sleep, and the sides of his lips tug into an unconscious smile. you’ve always had that habit in the lives that he’s known you in, and he pushes aside the strands of hair to take a clearer look at your face. when the babbling subsides, your dopey grin relaxes itself, and the heartaches begin once again. so many times he’s watched over you like this, but the last time he had was… was when you were…

your face, peaceful and oblivious, overlaps to a bloody, dismembered one. xiao inhales sharply and shakes the image out of his head.

he starts with your cheek, caressing it softly with his calloused fingers as he revels in your warmth. they trace every feature— your fluttering eyelids, the in-betweens of your eyes, your twitching nose— until his thumb presses on your lip. this was not a luxury he could afford back then, but now, now.

‘i can protect you in this world.’ he thinks. his lips brush against yours, but he does not lean in further.

‘all my past transgressions, i will make it up to you.’

you smile in your sleep peacefully, just as you did... so many years ago.

you appear in xiao’s dream once more.

it starts off the same as always. you are draped in fine liyue silk, batting those innocent eyes at him as you call him to your shared bed. he knows what will happen next, having relieved this for centuries on end. you will crawl upon him, you will wrap those hands around his neck, and you will admonish him. xiao stares at the alluring image of you and does not budge from the foot of the bed.

“[your name], come to me.” your image cocks its head in confusion, but you follow anyway. now that he’s met the real you, he can clearly see the difference. your hair isn’t that shade, your eyes are much too wide and— ah, his image of you has slowly been creeping away from his mind after years of separation. the thought of it twists his heart.

he watches you crawl over to him, tempting and innocent like a newly wed bride. you sit on your knees dutifully, awaiting his next command. he reaches out, strokes your hair— it’s not as soft as this in real life— and smiles darkly.

“i love you, [your name].”

you smile. “i know.”

“i always have. even after all these years.”

“i know.”

your eyes held so much light and passion than this blank-minded image of you. he inhales. “i’ll miss you.”

you furrow your brows, frowning in confusion at the sudden confession. “alatus, what are you talking about—?!”

xiao’s face is unmoving as he watches you choke on your blood, staring up at him wide-eyed as your hands shakily reach up to the spear embedded through your chest. “a– la– tus…?” he does not respond to your weak call, yellow eyes dull as you bloody his spear and heave with every gasp. “wh– how could…?”

“i’ve met you, [your name],” he whispers. he thumbs away the blood trickling from your lips. he breathes in slowly, knocking his head against yours. your image stares at him in betrayal and fear. “in this life, i’ve finally met you.” he feels your image dissipating and he brings you in closer. “finally. after all these years.”

“a… la… tus…”

“this time. this life. i promise you.” he entangles your bloody hand in his and presses a kiss to it. “we will finally be together.”

“no matter what.”