#yes this was an actual conversation i had

[stupidbeecandle]

ASL is absolutely about facial expression. Think about how much emotion you get just via audio in a radio drama or such. Pretty much full spectrum of human ability right? ASL (and many SL) uses gesture and expression to mean the same thing. I got dinged so many times in my exams for not doing grandiose enough emotions on my face during speeches and conversations, even about simple soup recipes.

It doesnt come naturally to most non Deaf or HH folks to emote to that level unless you are a stage actor and you understand the need to signal to someone with a slight visual impairment, across a crowded dimly lit room, that you are smiling. Thats why its built into the language btw, ASL is all about accessibility and throwing the most cues possible into a gesture because a slight hand movement can be difficult to track, similar to others, accented differently than yours (yes really); so accompanying it with a large emotion or body gesture can really help. ASL can also denote mood, time, place, people, and more by using large movements to gesture when where and who is involved in a story much faster than finger spelling out everyones names every time.

The emotion she is conveying "the threat of actual MFing nazis carting people off en mass for the grand shared reward of fuck nothing" is a horrific emotion to convey and one that SHOULD look like that in ASL. To tone it down would be to tone the message down dramatically

A lot of Deaf get togethers look dramatic and translators can be very uncomfortable for hearing people to interact with because hearing-culture and USamerican culture tells us such large expressions are childish, innapropriate, creepy, or gross

Unfortunately this discomfort can and often DOES override accessibility with weddings, stage shows, and more putting the interpreter off in a dark corner where they wont be "a distraction" for the sensitive hearing folks (if they have an interpreter at all)

I know someone who married a hearing partner and despite the gathering being half Deaf, the partner insisted that the translator signaling the joy of a marriage would be "too much" and "distract the audience from their big moment". So she placed the translator at the BACK of the church and had the Deaf half of the audience turn around if they wanted to hear what was happening rather than rely on the bs oralism lip reading the bride wanted

Asl is complex and Deaf is a culture and people's absolute confidence and comfort in their hateful bias is disgusting

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[bucketbueckers]

STICK AROUND

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, fluff, slight injury

wc: 2.3k

synopsis: After an arduous year full of ACL recovery, navigating your new yet inexplicably familiar relationship, and falling back in love with Paige Bueckers (not that you ever fell out of love in the first place), Paige is finally cleared and ready to play basketball again for her senior season.

notes: yes this is the same banner. no comments at this time please! this is part 2 to come around, requested by a few anons (sorry i may have deviated from the request a lil bit) & @janaelalfysloml 🫶 i was not expecting the reception CA got - and also!! 1k notes? wtf???? that's actually insane to me, i get on here to yap and procrastinate my homework, i am so blown away by the love and how many of you guys actually like what i write 😭 i love y'all bad! so here is part 2 in honor of CA surpassing 1k notes and my anons and if you're curious - yes flattery gets you everywhere and this is definitely an open invite to keep sending asks. not proofread! i hope you all enjoy this 🫶

tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @avvwritesstufff @surferandskater5 @jnkbueckers

The months between August 2022 and November 2023 were full of ups and downs. This is not to say you were miserable – far from it, in fact. Transferring to UConn from UMN was the best decision you’d ever made in your entire life. You’d made more friends, your grades started improving, and you’d truly felt at home in Connecticut, making a name for yourself in some of their student organizations. It would, however, be wrong to neglect the other, considerably important factor in why your life was turning around for the better.

You and Paige were in a much better place – romantically, platonically, in every facet of being each other’s person. Your communication was a lot better. You learned to be a little more direct, to enunciate exactly how you were feeling. Paige learned patience, which is honestly a miracle in and of itself; she learned that it’s not her sole responsibility to try to protect you from outside noise or make whatever decision is best for you. The both of you had good intentions, but sometimes it’s really easy for those good intentions to get swept up in chaos and unravel before you. The both of you had to remember that you’re not just girlfriends, but you’re partners, too – you’re a team.

The year’s ups and downs weren’t on the two of you. You and Paige had “learning curve” moments as you’d called it, having to sit down and have uncomfortable, vulnerable conversations that left you feeling raw on the inside, but healthier in spite of it. Instead of being on the same page, it was as though you and Paige were the weaving lines and sloping letters, beginning on opposite sides yet meeting in the middle to form words, sentences, stories. You weren’t just there. You were together in a completely new sense, working side-by-side with the sort of ease that comes with fully knowing a person inside and out.

The troubles of the year stemmed more from her knee. Her recovery wasn’t linear. Some days were harder than others and some days were downright hell on earth. It was hardly comparable to the time her high school championship was cancelled due to covid – it was worse. The pain would leave her shuddering in bed, hiccuping through tears and there was only so much you could do. You’d spend countless hours at her side, alternating between the heating pad and the ice pack, helping her swallow her painkillers with water when it got too bad, brushing your fingers through her hair and rambling about everything and nothing to distract her. Once she’d made it out of the post-surgery, pain and soreness phase, her days were full of physical therapy and mental battles that tested the both of you. Some days you didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, letting her cry into your shoulder as you held her. Other days you let her talk for hours on end, entrusting you with the uncomfortable parts of her and the whispered confessions of, “I don’t know how I can trust my body after this.” 

Time was what she needed to heal. The both of you knew that. So, you stuck around, knowing that even if Paige was a mess, injured, struggling mentally and physically, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with her. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks melt into months, she gets better. You knew she would. Watching that light return to her eyes, getting to see that spring in her step, hearing the way her laughter carried across the room was healing for you, too.

As she healed, you studied. You would spend the majority of your time in bed next to her with your textbook sprawled over your lap, her fingers tracing your skin and her chin hooked over your shoulder as she watched you do homework assignments. Your majors couldn’t have been further apart from each other, so admittedly, your time together was spent with Paige asking, “What the fuck is an electrophile?” and you responding with an endeared fondness, “Electro- means negative, -phile means love, so it’s a chemical species that accepts electrons,” followed by Paige huffing and declaring, “Yeah, you got that – you can be the breadwinner and I’ll be your sexy trophy wife.”

Whether she knew it or not, Paige helped you out a lot with your assignments. She kept your head on straight when your assignments got a little overwhelming and forced you to take a break when you were getting grouchy – “It’s what you did for me,” she would remind you, pressing soothing kisses to your cheeks, and murmuring, “You wanna DoorDash take-out?” (and who were you to say no to that?)

So as time passed, Paige recovered, the both of you healed, and by the time November 2023 rolled around, Paige was fully cleared to play basketball again. She’d been ecstatic for the weeks leading up to it, talking your ear off and dragging you to the gym with her even though the two of you fooled around more than she got her shots in. Her happiness was infectious – that was what mattered to you. You knew that she worked hard to get into UConn but you also knew she worked even harder to recover from the kind of injury that tests the resilience of many athletes.

The night before their home opener against Dayton, she revives an age-old tradition that you’d spent years missing. She takes you to Dairy Queen, shooting you an exasperated look over the center console as you teasingly pressed your card into her hand. She pays – she always does – driving off with her ice cream in the cupholder as she focuses on the road and you offer her spoonfuls of the same flavor you’d been ordering since you were both seventeen. Paige serenades you at the red lights, holding your hands and belting out off-key renditions of Keyshia Cole – because that hadn’t changed over the years, either. And when she finally pulls into a secluded parking lot, nothing but the moon and the crickets as your only witness, the two of you joke and ramble and flirt for what only feels minutes but are actually hours.

She still reserves that last bite of ice cream for you, guiding her spoon to your mouth and kissing the remnants off of your lips, relishing in the way your laughter reverberates throughout her Jeep. Paige tastes like vanilla ice cream and happiness, a lingering flavor that’s intoxicating when it mixes with your strawberry and the love for Paige that you’ve kept safe in your beating heart for years. Some things truly never change at all, you think when she rests her warm palm over your thigh as she adjusts her music (and the playlist she has fittingly titled ‘Freaky ass R&B’ with the heart emoji that she uses only for you). Things evolve, and they get better, and they have a way of surprising you in the best way possible, like when Paige gazes at you as you speak, her expression soft with a realization that sounds like I’m going to love you forever and a matching look in your eyes that looks like Forever sounds perfect.

Par for the course, her eyes start drooping around midnight, her movements fluid and her hands perpetually glued to your skin. The two of you talk for a little while longer until she finally blurts, “I have something for you.”

At that, you can only raise your brow, watching her as she leans into the backseat to grab a rectangular, gift-wrapped box. Panic fills your body at the thought that you may have missed an anniversary, but you remind yourself that it’s only November; your official anniversary wasn’t until late December.

She clears her throat, the nervousness reflected in her eyes, and you can’t help but remember how she asked you to be hers for the first time. You’re not seventeen anymore, nor are you in her stepmom’s Honda Pilot, but you’re both twenty-two living a life that feels both new and familiar, basking in a love that you’ve spent your entire life cherishing.

“You can tell me anything,” you remind her, your tone soft, and that’s enough for the tension to ooze out of her shoulders.

She smiles at you, that same smile from the first time she sat down across from you in junior year AP Lit. “I know,” she murmurs. “I just wanna do this right.” Your expression melts into one of understanding. “When I first convinced you to come to one of my games, I gave you my hoodie. I remember Coach lectured me for an hour straight, ‘cause he was all like, ‘Bueckers, the school pays a lot of money for those sweatshirts, and you lost yours!’” You laugh at her imitation of her high school coach. Her eyes shine a little brighter. “Coach wasn’t stupid. I’m sure he knew what actually happened. It was hard to miss you sittin’ in the student section and cheering me on like every bucket was one you made yourself. But, honestly…I didn’t care. I liked being able to look over and see you wearin’ my name and my number. It made me feel like I wasn’t just your best friend, that I was someone you’d want to…you know, do life with. That one day you’d love me in the way I loved you even though I didn’t know it was love yet.”

“So, you came to more of my games,” she continues. “You wore my hoodie. We’d get ice cream after and we’d talk for hours. I still remember that night I almost kissed you on your porch, that afternoon in your bed when I told you we weren’t so far away, that morning when I finally kissed you in the snow, when I asked you to be my girlfriend.” Paige swallows uncomfortably. “I remember when I broke your heart. I thought I was doing you a favor, but I just hurt the both of us. I missed you for two years but I didn’t think you’d ever want me back. So I hid. But we’d text each other happy birthday, and you’d reach out after I’d injured myself. I didn’t think I deserved your attention after what I did. Then I tore my ACL, and despite everything, you came.”

“You called,” you whisper, like it was the simplest thing in the world – because it was. Your heart beats to a cadence that sounds like the dribbling rhythm of a basketball and you know that Paige’s heart beats in tandem with yours. The two of you were so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives, each other’s hearts, that it was difficult to discern where you began and she ended, but you knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her eyes shining. “I’on care what it takes, you’re stuck with me this time around. I am never letting you go. You’re my past, present, and my future. Which is why I want you to have this.” She gives you a meaningful look and you begin to unwrap the box. When you take the lid off, you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face as you reach in, wrapping your hands around Paige’s zip-up tracksuit hoodie. It has the Husky logo and it smells just like her. You know it’s the school issued one that she wears everywhere. “It doesn’t have my name or my number on it or anything, but I got a little something embroidered on the inside.” Allowing her to guide you, she pulls back the lapel, and on the left side, directly under the Husky logo that rests over your heart, the words “Not impossible. Not for us” are stitched delicately into the fabric. You feel tears prick at your eyes as you laugh softly. “Coach is gonna kill me,” she muses, “but it’s worth it – especially since you’ll be sitting courtside in my hoodie like we’d always talked about.”

Your lip trembles, but you’re smiling widely. “Paige,” you murmur. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stick around for my games,” she says softly. “See if I’m still good at this basketball thing after taking a year off.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, placing the hoodie back into the box and wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands find your hips, her lips pressing into your temple, and you both melt into each other with an overwhelming amount of relief. “You know I’m there,” you say. “Always will be.”

Paige squeezes your waist, pulling back far enough to smile at you before her lips find yours, kissing you with a gentleness and a passion that hasn’t gone away, no matter how long you’ve been together or how long you’ll spend looking for each other. Her kiss feels more like a vow of forever, and when she breaks away, whispering something that sounds like an I love you, you promise the same thing.

(You’re courtside at her home opener, as promised. You watch as Geno shakes his head at Paige when he catches her staring at you, mumbling something about these damn kids, but you know that she doesn’t care and you don’t either. She reserves a spot for you at every game, at every team hangout, in that crevice of her heart that you’d tattooed your name on ages ago. Every day, you fall just a little bit further in love with Paige, and one of the things that you know with an absolute certainty is that you’re spending the rest of your life with her.)

[zyafics]

hihihi i love ur fic ‘wildflower by five seconds of summer’ which was a best friends to lovers, I was wondering if you could do a fox where he’s reassuring her that he’s attracted to her and idk. But she basically feels that they were best friends for so long that maybe he’s just dating her for her personality and doesn’t actually want to see her idkkkk but I think you’d be super good at writing this one

omg thank you!! something about bsf!reader gives me so much energy to come up with them so let’s get to it 🤞🏼

REAL OR NOT REAL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — BSF!Rafe x Wildflower!Female Reader

Word Count — 1.7K.

Content — fluff, Rafe comforting Reader about her insecurities, happy endings.

You always been aware of Rafe’s type.

There’s a certain degree that sparks Rafe’s interest, and how you slot into his future, but it hadn’t matter to you. Especially since you’re together now, it’s a constant reinforcement that he chose you out of all the girls on his roster. And he’ll keep choosing you because you’re his best friend.

At least, that’s what you like to think.

Your first cloud of doubt came in the form of an engagement.

When Kelce sank to the floor on one knee, holding up a sparkling diamond ring, he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before his girlfriend, Aria, leaped into his arms, squealing out a yes!

From there on, the entire restaurant cheers at the vow, and you alongside it, clapping your hands together with the utmost glee. You’re happy for your friend, and his embarkment on this new stage in his relationship. And you rejoiced in that feeling, floating in its bubble, until Topper came over to clap a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“How do you feel, man?” Topper asks, looking directly at your boyfriend.

“What do you mean? I didn’t get engaged,” Rafe huffs with a roll of his eyes, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around his bicep. He glances down at you with a soft smile.

“Not that,” Topper scolds, “In general. We always thought it would be you first.”

Your shoulders slouch. “What?” You question, but your voice is soft in the loud atmosphere. They didn’t hear you. Somehow, Kelce manages to enter at the tail-end of the conversation.

“Yeah, Rafe, never thought I’d beat you out,” Kelce laughs.

“You didn’t beat me,” Rafe declares calmly, holding up a glass of whiskey.

“I’m one step ahead of you,” Kelce refutes. “Didn’t you have a whole future planned? The house, the wife, the kids? The whole nine?”

“He’s been saying it since we were teens,” Topper adds. “Changed your mind?”

Rafe shrugs, appearing indifferent, but something cold runs through your veins. He lifts the glass to his lips. “When it happens, it happens.”

“Make it happen soon, alright?” Kelce adds with a grin, just as Aria slides beside him and he wraps a protective arm around her waist. “Because we’re planning a family, and my kids are gonna need your kids to keep them in check.”

“Or the other way around,” Aria comments with a chuckle, and the entire night went on as such. You celebrate among your friends at the restaurant of their engagement, the waitstaff brings out a glorious dessert for the couple, and everyone is in high spirits.

By the time you come home, all that energy disperses, and everything comes flooding back.

You almost forgot. Before Rafe and you got together, he had envisioned a future that didn’t match yours. He wanted a wife and kids, all before the age of thirty. He didn’t want to wait, as he always said before, he wanted it to be young, to start early, just as his father did.

You don’t feel the same. You grew up in a household that abandoned you to your own devices, hollowed out in creaky hallways and subdued by a rotation of maids and servants in and out of your estate. You always knew you wanted kids later, or not at all because you wanted to take time and travel the world.

This doesn’t match Rafe’s.

Yet, it was never brought up. You were so consumed by the bliss of finally having each other, that you neglected the very foundation of what it means to be in a relationship in the first place—to address the conversation of a different yet nearing future you each carved out for yourself.

Doubt begins to lament every inch of your skin as to why Rafe is with you in the first place. He had known this–he��s your best friend—he knows you’re different from what he wants and he still pursues it? Was it for fun? Was it to pass the time until he found someone more compatible to match his needs? Perhaps, even a chance, Rafe was so used to having you at his side that it was easier to seduce you into the most natural next-step role. He didn’t actually like you, your brain argued, he got with you out of pure convenience.

So, you start distancing yourself. Every invitation to spend with the newlyweds was declined, and every inquiry to come over to your house was subsequently ignored. It got to the point where, a week in, Rafe finally had enough and came into your house unannounced.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Rafe demands upon entering your room, his eyes sliding across the place to find the messiness of your sanction, pillows, and blankets thrown to different corners. Almost ditch-like, as if you hadn’t had the chance to leave—in fear of encountering him.

“What?” You ask meekly, shoulders slouching inwards, making yourself small.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he declares accusingly.

“Not true,” you argue.

He glares. “Don’t lie to me.”

You hesitate, digging your nails into the sheets and playing with the covers of your bed. “I just need some time for myself; to think,” “About what?”

You inhale sharply, trying to fizzle out your nerves. All your thoughts and rumbustious questions lead to this final end. This is it.

“I think we could break up.”

For the first time since Rafe’s entry, he’s taken aback by your statement. He unconsciously takes a step backward, brows drawn together, throat tightening. “What?” He replies, his voice low.

Now or never.

“I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days, and I think it’s the best option,” you reason, trying to appear as if this comes from a place of logic rather than insecurities. “For our future.”

“Our future?” He repeats, testing the words on his tongue.

“We’re not compatible,” you continue, the confession slicing at your chest. Tightening your skin. “I want certain things, and you want different things. Honestly, I don’t even know why you liked me in the first place. We were better off as—”

“Slow down,” Rafe cuts you off. You’re going so frantic, trying to streamline a sense of continual thought, that he thought you were going into a panic attack. Rafe lowers himself to your level, taking a precarious step forward and encroaching on your bed. “What do you mean?”

“We should break up.”

“No,”

“Rafe,” you pout, eyes softening, trying to let him go the gentlest way possible. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“You’re being unreasonable,”

“I’m being logical,” you argue.

He scoffs. “Logical? You’re breaking up over a problem that doesn’t exist. Incompatible? Really? You had a whole week to come up with an excuse and that’s what you settle on?”

Your shoulders sink. You play with the frayed threads of your comforter, and the mattress dips to accommodate his weight. His hand hovers over yours, halting your nervous antics and forcing your gaze back onto his.

“What happened?” Rafe asks gently.

“I can’t give you what you want,” you murmur with a cry, pathetically feeling like you’re close to tears.

“Okay,” he cautions slowly. “What do I want?”

“Not me,” you insist weepingly, “I don’t want kids, or to be a housewife. Being in your life, I ruin your plans.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, cradling your face. “I don’t care about that.”

Your heart beams with hope, before being smothered by the reminder that this is a trick to ease your thoughts. “You don’t want kids?”

“Of course, I want them,” your chest tightens. “But I want them with you when you’re ready.”

He adds. “I was serious that night,” he reminds you of that first night when you two became an item. “It’s you or nothing.”

You remain quiet.

“What else? Hit me.”

“I’m afraid,” you confess quietly.

“Of what?”

“That you don’t really like me. I think you’re with me because it’s the easiest thing, or perhaps you don’t want to let me down or—”

“Calm down, wildflower,” he breaths out, dropping his hand to your chest, forcing your intake to steady. They do, calming under his palm. “How about I tell you what I feel instead of you making assumptions?”

He’s right. That’s logical. As you nod, composing your words, you slowly draw a steady breath. “Do you want a housewife?”

“I do,” he answers honestly. “But I only want you.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask. “I don’t want to be one?”

“Then you won’t, simple as that.”

Your eyes pan across his handsome face, trying to uncover any mistruths, but you find none. It settles something in you, and you reveal your next step of doubts.

“You said you wanted to settle down before your 30s,” you remind him.

“That was before I knew this,” he gestures between you, “had a chance.”

“So you change your plans for me?”

“You’re my future,”

You swallow hard. “And if I don’t want to? Not just settling down—but I want to travel the world, and experience adventure, what do you say?”

He comes forward, cupping your chin and forcing your gaze on his. “I say do whatever the hell you want, as long as it’s with me.”

You brush your hands against his jaw, stopping your questions, before having one more on the tip of your tongue. Rafe nods encouragingly, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, and Rafe’s hand slides up your neck, finding that sensitive spot, and cradles it under his palm. “Ask the last one.”

Exhaling, you ask, “Do you like me?”

“Baby, you’re the love of my fucking life. I don’t think there’s anyone I like more than you.”

A blanket of comfort wraps around you, your heart softens, expression relaxes. Your brows pinch together, and they look up at him with utmost guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Don’t be,” he leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “You needed that. But I’m here to remind you—I want you. I chose you. The only way someone’s leaving this relationship is through death.”

You laugh softly, tears crowding your vision. “Is that a threat?”

“I think it’s a vow,” he murmurs, closer between you and pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “In sickness and in health, or whatever.”

Your hands run through his hair, pulling him closer, “How about let’s stay in bed and figure out the rest later?”

His hand catches the mattress, and his body presses against yours, forcing you onto your back as he covers you. And he kisses you again. And again. Until you’re out of breath. “I like the sound of that.”

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[ftmtftm]

I understand this is a hyperbolic radfem argument with no real legitimacy because said radfem in question hasn't actually thought about what she's saying beyond trying to craft a debate bro level conservative rage bait straw man — HOWEVER I'm an autistic little freak with a special interest in rhetoric as well as in moral and ethical philosophy, so let's take a look at the rhetoric and moral / ethical standards actually shown here.

First, let's just restate what Leslie Feinberg said so it's fresh in our minds.

"I believe that people who don't identify as transsexual also have a right to hormones and surgery. There are many of us who have wanted to shape our bodies without changing our sex."

When Feinberg mentions "want[ing] to shape our bodies without changing our sex" it is very clear that zie is discussing bodily autonomy, specifically as it relates to body modification.

To desire to shape one's own body is to desire to modify it autonomously.

HRT and surgery are, ultimately, body modifications. If you truly believe in informed consent and ownership of one's own bodily / bodily autonomy, then in many ways HRT and surgery are no different from any other body modification or plastic surgery on an functional level. They are procedures made with informed consent to alter one's body for any number of reasons, with generally overwhelmingly positive outcomes.

So to respond to that with:

"yes i believe everyone should have access to everything."

in order to craft a straw man argument shows such an interesting and hyperbolic leap in rhetorical logic being made.

"okay so i am not in pain therefore i shouldnt get all the oxycontin i want???

Now, I won't derail this with too long of a tangent about harm reduction and the ethics of safe and informed drug use, because that is deserving of its own post, but I do want to highlight the unspoken, pejorative comparison being made here between those seeking body modifications and those who use drugs recreationally.

The choice to use Oxycontin — a brand name for oxycodone, an opioid known for it's addictive properties and recreational usage — is a strong one. It tells me both that our radfem here doesn't have the strongest moral or ethical compass when it comes to the subject of addicts/addiction and harm reduction AND that she doesn't know the difference between an addictive substance and hormones, nor what they actually do to the body.

The reason why it tells me that, is because the implied framework here is irrationality. The false line of logic here functions as follows:

It is irrational to freely seek Oxy when one is not in pain, presumably for its addictive, recreational usage -> Addicts are irrational -> Oxy and hormones are both medical substances used for medical treatment -> Anyone who would seek HRT freely, regardless of transsexuality, is irrational like an addict.

Now, hormone replacement therapy is a non-addictive treatment whose effects on the body effectively replicate puberty as well as its known, well documented, lifelong effects (also known as "common adulthood medical risks associated with a testosterone or estrogen based endocrine system").

Medically speaking, HRT and oxycodone are used to treat very different things in very different contexts and are generally sought out by patients for very different reasons. When discussing the ethics of bodily autonomy, there is actually a good faith conversation to be had surrounding addiction — especially one that humanizes addicts and emphasizes harm reduction — but that's not what is happening here.

wtf. okay because im not diabetic i dont "deserve" insulin?"

Again, the implication here is irrationality. I truly don't think I need to linger on this one much. I'm sure there is someone out there in the world using insulin recreationally, but that's genuinely not of concern here.

The point of it's inclusion is to further establish that our straw man is detached from reality. It is truly on par with conservative rage bait rhetoric in a way that just makes me sad for our radfem. It's giving "paint any good faith attempt at accepting others as entitled on prime time Fox News, brought to you by Tucker Carlson".

"umm excuse you. i should be able to fuck up my body in every way possible with all the hormones and medication possible and if even one person tries to keep me from doing so for "ethical reasons" or some "hippocratic oath" they should be fired"

The implication here is, again, irrationality — hysteria even.

Under this framework - our straw man here wants to fuck up and ruin their body with drugs like an addict and thinks that anyone who tries to stop them out of concern or duty should be removed from their positions as medical professionals.

It is being argued that, if someone is allowed to choose to go on HRT or obtain surgery when they don't identify as transsexual, then there is a moral and ethical harm being caused to that person because they must be irrational and therefore absolutely can't actually make an informed decision about their body.

Ultimately this straw man argument is structurally no different from homophobic "Gay people? What's next, people fucking their dogs and children?" rhetoric.

You take something that is said in good faith like:

"people should be allowed to marry and/or have sex with whoever they want of any gender"

or

"people should be allowed to make informed decisions regarding how they modify their bodies"

and then you twist it into the most bad faith, irrational framework that you possibly can.

Generally this is done by comparing the action in question to another morally "undesirable" action. In the '00's it was pedophilia and beastiality, in this instance it's addiction and unreality. Mental illness and hysteria is also implied in both.

None of it is sound logically, ethically, or morally as it is literally based in morally motivated self righteousness, fear based disgust, and willing ignorance. Generally speaking some kind of insecurity as well.

Ethically speaking, if you don't like something that someone else is doing within their own life in a way that is otherwise in good faith and consensual to all the people who immediately matter and it also doesn't actually have any direct impact on your life besides the fact that you're made uncomfortable or are disgusted by it? Truly one of the most ethically sound things to do is say "not my problem" and move on. Lest you become Jesus in the myth of consent meme or start sounding like a right wing talking head.

Way ahead of hir time. Hopefully, one day, everyone will have full autonomy over their bodies, making arguments restricting hormones a thing of the past. Get your copy here.

[writinginatree]

Jealous Little Puppy

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader, Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: You feel neglected because your brother spends every free minute with Violet and has no time left for you.

Warnings: Jealousy, low self-worth, abandonment issues, implied depression. Set in Aretia during Iron Flame.

Anonymous requested: I want to ask something for Xaden where the reader is jealous and feels like she's in second place to Violet? Maybe because Violet and Xaden's dragons are mate, and they spend a lot of time together, the reader is jealous, but she gets all grumpy, glaring at Xaden, refusing his touch... but deep down she's a little lost puppy who just wants to be loved and protected🥹🤍

You sit on the bottom stair in the foyer of Riorson House, watching your brother across the room. The physical distance is nothing compared to how far away he's felt emotionally ever since you saw him again after entering the Riders Quadrant a few months ago. You were hoping he would have a few minutes to come to the gym and help you with a move you have trouble mastering, but, as usual, he's otherwise occupied.

He and Violet are locked in one of their silent conversations. You don't understand how, but you've been watching them enough to be sure they have some strange way of communicating without anyone else being any the wiser. It has to be part of the whole mated dragons thing somehow, you suppose. Maybe because of it, they can talk the same way riders and dragons talk. However it works, you hate when they do that. It always makes you paranoid, wondering if you did something wrong, if they're talking about you. Of course they aren't; you're not so self-important to truly believe they are. Nonetheless, that prickle of anxiety never fades. Maybe you did do something wrong and that's why Xaden's been so closed off from you?

He never has time for you these days. You'd thought maybe that would change now that you're back home in Aretia, but honestly, you should have known better. Every free second he has is dedicated to Violet, regardless of where you are and how often he's there.

Starting the quadrant, you'd been thrilled to learn that Xaden would be returning to Basgiath every two weeks due to his dragon being mated to that of a second-year, thinking you would get to see him on those occasions. And yes, the first time he'd visited, he had used the chance to check on you. Briefly. After that, nothing. You didn't get to talk to him again until after he showed up to save Violet and you all defected. According to Bodhi, it had been because you were safer that way. As if people weren't perfectly aware of who you are regardless of whether or not your brother payed any attention to you.

And while you do get to see a little more of him now, he never actually spends time with you. It hurts more than you care to admit. After lonely years stuck in a foster home, counting the days until you'd get to see your family again, it now feels a lot like your family doesn't want you anymore. You've been spending time with Bodhi whenever possible, but he doesn't have much time for you either, and, as much as you love your cousin, he simply can't make up for your brother's unavailability.

What little free time Xaden has, he spends with Violet. It's been going on like this for months. You try not to be jealous of all the attention Xaden gives her, but it's hard. They're so close, blind to anything except each other.

At first, it was nice to see them so obviously in love. Gods know Xaden deserves to finally have some happiness in his life. Things have been rough for all of you since the apostasy, but for him especially. And you're glad he has Violet to take care of him now, you really are.

It's just that most of these days, it feels as though you've turned invisible.

You know you're being unreasonable. You're an adult and should be fine on your own. But after having your mother abandon you, and your father die for a failed rebellion and leaving you behind, being constantly ignored by your brother in favor of his girlfriend is simply too much. It's like there's no space left for you in Xaden's life now that he has her.

The worst part is that you actually like Violet. It would be easier if you could hate her for stealing your brother from you, but you admire her. You're even friends — or as close to being friends as a measly first-year like you can get with a powerful second-year like her.

She never has time for you, either. You can't blame her. She's busy — as is Xaden, you know that. But that's different. Violet has no obligation to waste her time on you, but Xaden is your damned brother. He could at least say hi when he's home, ask how you're doing once in a while.

Instead, he only pays attention to you when you're in trouble, like is the case a few days later.

It wasn't even your fault this time. Your squadmate had gotten into a fight with one of the fliers; all you had done was try to make peace between them. Things escalated into a fist fight despite your efforts, and when the professors broke it up, no one asked who'd started it or gave you a chance to explain. After a whole fifteen minutes of Ulices yelling at the lot of you, you were sentenced to breakfast duty along with those who'd actually been involved in the fight.

And of course some asshole immediately informed Xaden about it when he returned from a long patrol later that afternoon, so now you're stuck getting another lecture, this time from your brother dearest.

"I hear you got into a fight with the fliers," he starts, glaring at you like you're the biggest disappointment he's ever seen.

All hopes that he might listen to your side of the incident evaporate, but you try anyway. "I—"

"I didn't think I had to tell you this," he goes on, "but you're supposed to be a good example for the others. We cannot have fliers and riders turn on each other, or everything will fall apart."

"It wasn't—"

"I expect you to be on your best behavior from now on. If I hear about any more incidents like this, the punishment your professors come up with will be the least of your worries. Is that clear?"

It's an effort to swallow your anger and the bitter feeling of betrayal. You've never felt so unwelcome in your own home. Somehow, you manage to keep your voice steady and void of emotion when you answer. "Yes, sir."

Bodhi finds you crying in your room that night.

"Hey, what's wrong? If it's because of that fight you got into—"

You can't take it anymore. "I didn't!" you shout, shooting to your feet. "I was just in the middle of it because I tried to make them stop, but no one ever fucking listens to anything I say!"

Bodhi raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I can take it up with leadership for you. I'm sure they'll exclude you from the punishment if I explain that you—"

"Nevermind. I don't care about breakfast duty."

"But?"

You sit back down on the edge of your bed, wipe the tears from your face and shake your head. You don't look at him. "Nothing. It's nothing."

He wouldn't understand. He's never been needy for attention like you, is happy to do his duty without expecting thanks or acknowledgement. Oh, he would be sympathetic if you told him. Would let you pour your heart out about how unimportant you feel, how lonely you are because Violet is Xaden's number one priority and no one has time for you. Would hold you and stroke your hair, give you all the attention you so desperately crave. He'd sit with you and dry your tears until you fell peacefully asleep instead of crying yourself to sleep like you'd done so often lately.

But he would not understand. And once you were soundly asleep, he would tell Xaden.

And while Bodhi would certainly be doing so for your own good, you would rather let your dragon bite your arm off than talk to your brother about this. At best, Xaden would think you're being annoying, clingy, and childish. At worst... well, you're not sure. It doesn't matter. Talking about it would not improve the situation, that much you're sure of.

Therefore, you keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to the floor until Bodhi finally decides to leave you be. He has homework and section leader stuff to do, after all. As soon as you're certain he's gone, you let the calm facade crack again and flop down on the bed, sobbing into your pillow.

Almost two weeks pass before Xaden deigns to talk to you again. You see him in the hall a few times, but he doesn't pay you any mind. Maybe he just doesn't notice you, or maybe he's doing it on purpose to punish you for your perceived misbehaviour. You don't know and it doesn't matter. Of course you could always greet him first, but you're tired of begging for his attention, so you convince yourself you don't want or need it anymore.

You're sitting at lunch when Xaden walks past behind you, reaching out to muss up your hair in passing as he's done thousands of times before, though not in a while. For the first time in your life, you swat his hand away.

He freezes, and you can practically feel his bewildered gaze boring into the back of your head. You continue eating like he isn't there.

For a moment he just stands there, trying to figure you out. When he speaks, his voice has an annoyed edge to it, but beneath that, there's a hint of what almost sounds like worry. "You're not still mad because I believed that you were involved in that brawl with the fliers, are you? Bodhi told me it wasn't your fault you got dragged into—"

"No," you cut him off, sparing him a glance over your shoulder after all. "No, everything is fine."

"Right..."

Though he clearly doesn't believe you, he leaves it be, walking off to find his own lunch. You knew he would. You don't matter enough for him to make a scene in front of your squad.

To your surprise, Xaden intercepts you outside your room that evening. Maybe Violet is still busy in the library; he sure as hell wouldn't be bothering with you if she had time for him.

"Okay, what's wrong?" he demands without preamble. "And don't you dare say it's nothing. You're skulking around like an abandoned puppy."

You bite your tongue to keep from retorting that that's exactly how you feel. Like he put you in a crate and left you in some dark alley because you're not worth taking care of anymore, and so far, no passerbys have bothered to stop and take you in. Unloved and unwanted, just like you felt when your mother left all those years ago. Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel, growing up. You've always been a little behind, so you wouldn't know.

Xaden nudges you, a reminder that he's still waiting for an answer.

You decide to give him a half-truth. "It just feels weird to be home after so long. Wherever I look there's something bringing back old memories." You let your eyes flick to his for a second. "I miss Dad."

"Me too," he quietly admits, which is the closest thing to vulnerability he's allowed himself in your presence since the execution. "But that's not all, is it?"

You shrug, opening your door in hopes he'll drop the matter, but he follows into your room. Fine. If you really can't avoid talking about it, you'd rather do it here than in the hall where gods know who might listen in.

Standing at the window, you look out over Aretia, all too aware of Xaden's presence at your back.

"Come on, kid. Talk to me."

You scoff. You can't help it. For months you've wanted to talk to him, to spend just a little bit of time with him, but he couldn't be bothered. And now that you've all but given it up he comes and demands you pay attention to him. Gods beware you have the audacity to turn things around and ignore him for a few minutes. Maybe you should have slammed the door in his face and refused the conversation altogether, given him a taste of his own medicine.

You don't have the energy to fight with him, though, so you do the next best thing and feign ignorance. "Talk about what?"

"About whatever is bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me," you claim. "Like I said, it's just strange to be back—"

"Bullshit. You really think I can't tell you're mad at me? Because I absolutely can. I just can't figure out why."

"That's not— I'm not mad at you!"

It's the truth. You're jealous, lonely, feeling neglected, maybe even a little disappointed in him, but not mad. There's no point; being angry with him wouldn't change a thing. It's true you've been acting moody lately, pulling away from everyone and Xaden especially, deciding that if you are that unimportant to him, you won't bother him anymore. It was an act of acceptance, rather than anger. You didn't think he would notice.

"What is it, then?"

"I'm just..." You shake your head. "I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

You sigh. Why does he care all of the sudden? Part of you wishes he'd just leave you alone, even as the rest of you longs for the comfort his company used to bring. You're so fucking tired of this.

"You're away all the time. And when you are here you never have time for me." You didn't mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it does. And since there's no taking it back now you add, "It's like I don't even matter anymore. If I disappeared, you probably wouldn't even notice."

When he doesn't answer, you chance a look at your brother's face. He looks stricken, shock mixing with the guilt of the realization of how distant he's been.

"I didn't realize," he says finally, startling you with the uncharacteristically soft tone he uses. "I know I haven't really had time for you, but I didn't realize it made you feel so..."

"Neglected?"

"Yeah."

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm not a little kid you need to dote on anymore. You've got other priorities. I get it."

Xaden shakes his head. "That's not the point. I don't ever want you to doubt how important you are to me. All I did, the deal to let us into the quadrant, continuing what Dad started, it was all for you. All I wanted was to keep you safe, for you to have a better life. And just because Violet is my biggest priority now doesn't mean you're not important too. You and Bodhi are the only family I have. You'll always matter, you hear me? You matter so fucking much."

He takes you by the shoulders like he wants to shake you to make sure the words sink in, but refrains from actually doing it.

"I'm sorry," he adds, which feels even more surreal than everything else he's said so far. "I promised Dad I'd take good care of you, but I guess I fucked it up. I was so focused on just keeping us alive that I forgot about actually being there for you. And I know I've been... cold, but that has nothing to do with you. I just... kind of forgot how to do feelings, I guess. Not that I was ever much good at that stuff. But I still care. I promise I do, and I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel like I don't."

"It's okay," you say, and this time, you really mean it. He hasn't forgotten about you. He's trying. You're not abandoned after all, merely temporarily left behind. "You've done so much for all of us. It's not your fault I'm so sensitive."

"No, but I know damn well how easily you let things like this get to you. I should have noticed sooner. Next time you convince yourself you don't matter just do us both a favor and say something, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Now, are we okay again?"

"Yeah."

"Good. And I'll try to have more time for you," Xaden promises, ruffling your hair. This time, you let him. "I can't help how busy I am, but I'll try to include you more when I'm here. I'll see if I have a moment to join you in the gym tomorrow, how does that sound?"

"Perfect."

[beloveds-embrace]

☕ anon here

Hear me out. Quiet duchess with highly specialized interests that she can't shut up about. Maybe Kyle or Simon accompanies her on a walk outside and she spots a butterfly species like the black swallowtail and starts yapping happily about how the bright colors are supposed to help ward off predators or something, and how to tell the difference between male and female. And then goes on to talk about the differences between butterflies and moths, how they're all lepidopterans but vastly different, etc. And they're just absolutely SHOCKED about how much information spews out of duchess because it's the most excited anyone has ever seen her, to the point of almost concern.

It doesn't even have to be insects like that, it could be plants. Or jewelry. Gems and minerals. Or maybe even a big oral essay on her favorite character from a book series and why they're her favorite character because of XYZ intricacies. Hyper invested duchess my beloved 💖

YES YES YES YES

It had started as a quiet walk. Simon wasn’t much for conversation, and you had always been comfortable in silence. It was a mutually agreeable arrangement- one that allowed you both to enjoy the crisp morning air without the exhausting expectation of small talk.

And then you saw the butterfly.

It had fluttered past, landing delicately on a nearby shrub, its vibrant wings a striking contrast against the greenery. Without thinking, you had stepped forward, tilting your head as you observed it with growing excitement.

“Oh!”

Simon barely had a moment to register the shift before words- so many words- came spilling out of you.

“That’s a Red Admiral! You can tell by the bright orange bands along the wings- see? They’re warning colors, meant to deter predators. Some butterflies mimic toxic species for protection, but these ones are actually unpalatable to birds!”

Simon blinked.

You turned to him suddenly, eyes bright, gesturing toward the butterfly with enthusiasm he had never seen from you before.

“Did you know you can tell the difference between males and females just by looking at their forewings? Males have these little scent scales they use to attract mates- oh! And butterflies and moths, even though they’re both lepidopterans, are so different! Butterflies have clubbed antennae, while moths have feathery or filamentous ones! And their resting positions- moths keep their wings flat or tented, but butterflies close theirs!”

You were still talking- excitedly- and Simon was still staring.

Not because he wasn’t interested. No, he was listening, genuinely- but mostly because he had never seen you like this before.

Ever.

Their quiet, reserved duchess- the same woman who could sit in silence for hours, who struggled to speak even a handful of words in company- was rattling off information faster than he could process.

And you were beaming.

Simon had seen many things in his life. He had braved battlefields, faced horrors beyond reckoning. But this was entirely foreign to him.

He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

So, he did what he could.

“You like butterflies, then, Duchess?” He rumbled, still watching you as though you had sprouted wings yourself. The prettiest, loveliest of wings.

You paused, your excitement faltering slightly, as if only just realizing how much you had said. You folded your hands together, gaze lowering, a hint of shyness creeping back into your posture.

“I… yes,” you admitted, quieter now. “I like entomology in general, but butterflies are… lovely, aren’t they?”

Simon exhaled through his nose, a huff of something like amusement.

“Yeah, love,” he murmured, glancing at the butterfly still perched nearby, and then glancing right back at you. “They are.”

He didn’t need to say the rest of his words, and you pretended like you couldn’t feel the warmth creeping up your neck.

[sometimesanalice]

Ollie! 💖🫶🏼

I am over the moon that you enjoyed this! There's nothing more that I love than some flirty banter and a meet cute!

more for you friend!

oh my GOD!!! i cannot tell you how much i loved this!! one of the sweetest stories i've ever read!! so much more to say but sorta spoilers?! also the details, and the buildup?? so amazing. i could picture everything so clearly! truly a beautiful story!

first off let me say i was so scared bradley was the one who stood her up! so evil! (it was amazing thank you!)-- there's nothing I enjoy more than a sneaky little twist, lol. It was a surprise to me too, because I had started this fic last year and had written like 500 words of it half delirious before I tested for COVID, lmao. And I was down for the count for the rest of the month and then put this little fic to the wip graveyard, and forgot about it until this January! And when I opened the doc to read it, I was like "that was so cheeky of me to do that"! Haha! (but also that man would neverrrrrr. his mom raised him right!)

"And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame." i would fold immediately i fear-- he is well and truly doing the absolute most here, and means every word of it!

"Because if I'm being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don't know if I would have played fair." the italicized oh was so necessary after this because oh! im BLUSHING!-- the italicized oh agenda for the win! how can two little letters pack so much punch?! and can be so lethal when used in just the right spot, lmao! when I was drafting this, I think I had thoughts of it being a Bradley POV when I was first marinating on it, and then when I started it, her POV just came more naturally? (i noodled on a dual POV because I did have some tidbits from his, but liked the idea of just seeing him pull out all the stops from her perspective instead). But just know from the moment that jake nudged him to check out the girl in the dress who'd walked in, he was like all focused in on her. those 30 minutes felt like a few hours to him because every time the door opened and she was looking to see who it was, he was watching her to see if her face changed, and not wanting to hope that she'd see the person she was waiting for, but also like hoping he'd be able to make a move. (also if that guy had shown up, and Bradley sensed the first date vibes, you just know he'd have dialed up the Rooster charm of it all to like an 11, lol)

"Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I'd known. That's some dress, sweetheart," i'm gonna say oh again bc OH!-- Bradley 'Rooster (no chill)' Bradshaw everyone! but also in case you're curious, here's the dress I used as a reference, lol.

"Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?" he really does have big cows, and i bet he uses them to get what he wants so often-- I MEANNNNNNN..... (I know I'd never stand a chance, lmao)

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'll show you my move." i've fainted. i'm swooninh. it reminds me of the big musical number in 10 things i hate about you, i love it.-- i highkey loved that she called him out for having one, because with confident charm like that, there's no way he wouldn't have a big move he'd pull out. it amused me to know end. but yes, we LOVE a man who puts that extroverted energy to good use! I just know teen bradley watched that movie and made NOTES, lol.

I LIKE SHINY THINGS BUT I'D MARRY YOU WITH PAPER RINGS. YES I WOULD BRADLEY!!-- bts fun fact, I almost had her bring of box of conversation hearts (that was also one of the titles I was contemplating too, lol) with her , and she would have swapped him. (but decided against it because I didn't want her to give him that when they were originally for someone else, she ended up on the date she was supposed to be on though). but we adore a crafty man! if anyone was going to do the most and appreciate the extra mile she went, it's him!

i want bradley to help me off a stool! the whole pool scene?? i was giggling, especially when she calls jake malibu ken.-- the way I got paid to read up on tips and tricks for how to play pool, lmaoooo. I spent like 2 hours on reddit and billiards sites for research for that game, cursing myself for making miss ma'am a little pool shark when I know nothing about the game, ahahahhaha! the malibu ken bit absolutely gave me a chuckle, he deserved to get a little roasted with that line.

HE MADE AN ACCOUNT JUST FOR HER??? oh my god i would kill to have a bradley bradshaw in my life!!-- that was a last minute burst of inspiration! it was always going to end with her on the couch watching her favorite movie (and with a heart shaped pizza in the oven-- i ended up trimming the opening a bit, and part of the reason she accepted the original date in the first place is because she didn't want to have the same v-day that she had for the last few year, but now instead of it feeling lonely, it felt hopeful like she was having her own romance movie moment), but then I had a what-if idea that instead of her deleting the app she gets one last message from a certain someone. 🥰 and since he knew what app she was on because he got to snoop on the guy who stood her up, he knew where to start (but also, he's very please when she pops up for him as a compatible match, and happily will share that tidbit with her on their next date!)

¡ loved this so so so so much!!-- 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.  

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in. 

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own.  “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.  

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.  

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it.  But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[batmansbasement]

Fic Idea For Tim Drake And Jason Todd, and the Drake Family Dynamic

TW: Mention of drug abuse, overdose, infidelity, genetic addiction, general socialite behavior

The fics where Jack and Janet Drake are terrible parents who neglect and abuse Tim do make for good found family angst, yes.

However.

I propose to you something new and much much better. Yes, Tim's parents may not be winning any parent of the year awards, but they did teach their son how to be ruthless in the face of insults to their name. Together, Jack and Janet Drake are known as the sharks of the socialite world. You bleed a drop of blood and they'll sniff it out and sink their teeth into it, tearing you wide open.

Janet is a known social climber, she started at the bottom of the food chain and made her way to the top through coldness and apathy, using her mind to snap back at people when they dared to insult her or her family. Jack had been raised in the socialite world, and knows the ins and outs well. He knows that every smile is fake and every person is putting up a mask, and he knows how to see behind them.

This being said, I add in another popular fic trope. Young Tim and Jason meet at a gala, but Janet and Jack do not care that they talk, they actually encourage it. They always taught Tim not to take advantage of the way he was raised, or to think of himself as better because of something he was born into such as his wealth. When the Drakes found out that Brucie Wayne had taken in another boy, and that he was from Crime Alley, they did not believe a single thing the papers said, and promptly did not think much of it.

They were a little confused when their son developed an obsession with the Wayne's boy a few months later, but Tim had always been a little odd, and had always been fascinated by the Wayne's, what with seeing Dick Grayson's final performance, even if it was tainted by the awful events that occurred that night.

Of course a welcoming gala is hosted for the new son, Jason Todd, a couple months later. And of course the Drake's will make their appearance for it would be rude not to do so. They would be seen as prejudiced if they did not show, for they are welcoming this poor orphaned boy who lived on the streets and is now taken in by a rich man! How could you be so cruel as to not welcome him!

(The rich love to seen empathetic and thoughtful. It makes them feel better about how terrible they to those who need help)

(The Drake's, again, do not care much. The boy is just like any other, and they have a lovely son already. However Tim is so very excited, and the couple already knows the cruel things that will be said tonight, so they suppose it would be refreshing for Jason to talk to people who were not faking sympathy for his situation)

That's not to say that the Drake's were not sympathetic, just not in the ways that the surrounding crowd was.

At one point, Janet nearly scoffed after hearing some old bat tell Jason that "she truly felt for him. Truly, his situation was just awful, how could a mother set that kind of example for their child? He must feel so lucky to be living with someone as amazing as Brucie Wayne now. Not living on those filthy, disgusting streets anymore."

The poor boys face had turned so red Janet thought he might blow a gasket, and his expression was one of disgust so plain she felt she had to help him. How people could just assume the way they did, she would never know.

She looked down at her son, who was also watching the entire situation play out, and felt her lips upturn slightly. Tim had taken to watching people like a fish took to water, he was a natural at gathering information and reading people, as well as telling them what the wanted to hear.

Janet squeezed his shoulder and whispered to Tim, "Go, he looks like he needs a friendly face at the moment."

Tim's smile is bright and happy as he bounds over to Jason, and as they strike up a conversation, Jason's face slowly goes back to a normal color and he starts to form a smile of his own. Tim had always been bright and aware, and she was proud to call him her son. He was empathetic without giving pity, something she knew she hated receiving after talking about her own upbringing.

Satisfied with how things turned out, she leaves the two boys be, and turns to the crowd to find her husband. No doubt he's stomping down rumors left and right at the moment, he never did stand for the lies that circled the socialite community, no matter if they were about his family or someone else's.

Jack and Janet are talking to an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Eldine, when they hear affronted gasps from a small gathering towards the other end of the ball room.

Jack and Janet both seem to realize at the same time that their son is presumably still with Jason. Jason, who has been called many names throughout the night, many unfavorable. And their son, their lovely Tim, who they taught to never hold back when insulted, or when someone he cares about is insulted.

To say they rushed to the center of the crowd was a bit of an understatement.

Sure enough, in the middle was a small clearing, and there stood Tim, shielding Jason with his body, and Eli Barnum, a man who was as sleazy as he was rich. Barnum stood red in the face, looking livid. Tim looked proud and defiant, and Jason looked shocked and worried.

Janet and Jack were at the boys' side swiftly.

"Timothy, could you please explain the meaning of this?" Jack's voice was strict and punishing to unfamiliar ears, but upon hearing it Tim relaxed minutely.

"He-" Tim was cut off before he could even start.

"Your son," Barnum spat, spittle flying from his mouth in his rage, "is the most disrespectful brat I've ever seen. You ought to teach him a lesson in respecting his elders, before someone else does it for you."

Jack tensed, and Janet's nostrils flared dangerously.

"Mr. Barnum, it would treat you well to not interrupt my son when he is speaking. It is impolite and frankly barbaric. Timothy, tell is what happened." Janet sounded every bit as terrifying as the tabloids said.

Tim looked from his mom, to Mr. Barnum, to his dad, to Jason, then back to his mom. He then looked back to his mother, eyes flashing with barely concealed rage.

"He called Jason a street rat. I was merely reminding him of what a rat really is."

Janet Drake smiled down at her son and nodded, while Jack looked back at Jason and tilted his head in question. Jason nodded shyly to confirm that this is what happened.

After the confirmation, it seemed as if the entire Drake family became a stone wall blocking Jason from the putrid man in front of them.

Janet pursed her lips, somehow managing to look down her nose at Burnam while being shorter than him.

"Is this true, Burnam?"

Burnam sputtered, his face turning impossibly more red.

"It's not like I'm wrong! Kids a gutter rat, shouldn't be mixing with people like us. We all know his mom was a druggie! And we all know how that is, runs in the blood! He's bound to end up just like her, useless and doped out by the time he's sixteen! Not to mention the diseases he probably carries from his time on those filthy streets, he's like a stray dog, probably riddles with fleas and pestilence!"

Janet hummed, felt her blood pressure rise beyond what she thought possible, and it worsened when she heard the heavy breathing coming from behind her. Jason appeared to be hyperventilating.

She knew how horrible people could be to those who were raised in less than favorable positions. She'd experienced it first-hand more than enough to last a lifetime, but to see it directed at a child, who had already been through so much at such a young age, sparked an anger in her so bright she felt as of it would burn her alive.

Or she would burn alive those who she directed it at.

She could tell her boys felt the same way. Tim was stiff as a board under her hand on his shoulder, and his breathing was nearly as bad as Jason's. Jack's body was poised like he was bracing for an impact, ready to attack.

"If I do remember correctly, Eli, your mother and father divorced after your mother found your father...ah...how did you put it...doped up? With another woman in his bed, and here you stand. Your hands are shaking, your face is hallow, and your teeth are the most horrendous shade of yellow I have ever had the displeasure of looking at. Perhaps it runs in your blood?"

Barnum's face dropped, paling at a rapid rate. The surrounding crowd was so silent you could hear a pin drop, and Janet's voice seemed to echo off the walls.

Then her son spoke up.

"Oh, right, it must be a familial connection, I'm sure of it, mother. It is his father's business that he inherited. It's the same business that is suspected of 67% of illegal opioid dealings in Gotham! Remember that, mother?"

Janet smiled cruelly, "Yes, Timothy, I do."

Jack clapped his hands with force, "Well then, we must have this man escorted off the premises immediately! How could someone such as him be around our children! What a terrible influence! Security!"

Burnam was dragged out kicking and screaming while a crowd of paparazzi surrounded him, and the Drake's looked down at him like he was little more than scum on the bottom of their shoes.

After all was said and done, Tim turned back to Jason, only to find he was taking to Bruce using wild hand gestures and looking about one breath away from a panic attack.

Then Jason looked up at caught Tim's eye, and smiled widely before dragging Bruce over to The Drake Family.

"Dad. Dad, these people are the coolest people I've ever seen in my life. That was the most insane thing I've ever witnessed. Oh my god."

Bruce smiled at the Drake's, and everyone could tell it was Bruce, not Brucie. They had found a secluded enough corner, and most of the attention was still on the paparazzi and the new gossip, so they were mostly safe from being heard.

"Thank you, for standing up for my son."

His smile was sincere, and Janet felt her heart melt just slightly, but didn't let it show on her face.

"It was stupid to leave him alone like that, Bruce, you know full well what these people are like."

Bruce nodded in agreement, "Yes, that was quite idiotic of me, I must admit, and I can assure you it will not happen again."

"Be sure that it doesn't" Janet snapped, before softening slightly.

Jason watched the conversation like a tennis match, head bouncing back and forth, before grinning up at Janet like she hung the moon.

"You are a total badass, Mrs. Drake."

At those words, Jack let out a loud chuckle, trying to stiffle it but failing, and Janet felt her lips quirk up.

"Jason, laguage!" Bruce admonished, but Jason didn't seem to hear him.

"And Tim! That was so cool, dude! How did you know about the whole drug thing? Even Bruce was shocked when he found out!"

Tim felt himself freeze up slightly. Batman was shocked about something he found out? He was totally going to freak out about that later. But not now. Robin is talking to him.

"It was really easy to put the pieces together after looking at the company stocks. There were too many suspicious transfers to unknown places, and after hacking a couple security cameras, I found out where he was spending his free time. Or, I guess how he was spending his free time."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the young boy. "You hacked security cameras? Is that not illegal?"

Tim stared him head on, not backing down, ans Janet couldn't help but be proud of her little dragon.

"You've never done anything illegal, Mr. Wayne?" Tim's voice was sweet, his eyes wide and innocent, but the threat was loud and clear.

Bruce froze for a moment, and Jason's draw dropped to the floor. No way this kid new.

(The kid definitely knew.)

Jack shook his head, grabbing Tim by the shoulder and squeezing warningly.

"Sorry, we made the mistake of teaching him about blackmail, and he got a little obsessed. Timothy here probably has dirt on the entire high society at this point, and probably many more people that his mother and I are aware of."

Tim nodded in agreement.

Bruce took this in for a moment. "And you're both okay with this?"

Janet chucked slightly, "Truly, Bruce. I'd like to see you try and stop him."

Tim smiled something feral. "You can try, but I promise you'll fail."

Slowly, Bruce nodded, and Jason let out a laugh.

"Hey, Mrs. Drake, can you teach me that really scary glare you did at that man? In case there's someone else like him in the future?"

Janet looked down at the young man and felt incredibly fond. It was impossible not to, with his gaping smile and his boyish attitude.

She nodded, "Hm, yes, it's best you learn the art of intimidation sooner rather than later. However, for right now, if anyone acts even remotely the way Burnam did tonight, I want you to find Tim, who will find Jack and I, and we'll deal with it, sound good?"

Jason nodded quickly, while Jack looked down at his watch.

"Ah, darling, we should be getting home. It's nearly two in the morning!"

Janet nodded, and looked down at Tim, who looked sullen about the prospect of leaving but nodded nonetheless.

"Well then, it was an eventful night, but I cannot say I'm sad to see it come to an end."

Bruce chuckled at Janet's statement, humming, "No, I can't say I'm too disappointed either. Again, thank you all for tonight. Tim is welcome anytime at The Manor, I'm sure he would fit right in with my boys."

Jack nodded, "Thank you, and of course the same goes for Jason and your other young man, Dick, correct?"

Bruce nodded, "Yes, that's him. I'll see you all around"

Jack and Janet nodded, and Jason and Tim said goodbye to eachother, exchanging numbers and arguing about something, (all the adults heard was something about Wonder Woman and a toaster), before heading their separate ways.

The night all together didn't go as horribly as it could have.

Tim made a new friend, and Jack and Janet felt less worried because of it. They knew their son was odd, and although they loved him dearly, the knew not everyone felt the same amount of affection towards his more terrifying habits.

So all together, it was a success.

As Jack and Janet settled in for bed, they didn't hear their sons window open down the hall, or the sound of him exiting it.

Tim made sure to be absolutely silent, and as soon as he entered the city, he disappeared into the shadows completely.

He had some birdwatching to do, after all.

Fin.

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO WRITE MORE FICS BASED ON THIS OR GIVE RECS🙏 I NEED MKRE GOOD PARENT JACK AND JANET PLEAAASSEEE

[matteglaze]

love is blind au with shouto...

I think that Shouto actually isn't that popular in the pods— sure he has a really, really nice voice (so most of the women try to hold a conversation with him) but in the end they have nothing in common

Conversations probably go like this:

"So.. what's your favorite movie?"

"I don't have one" Shouto replies.

"Oh, that's fine, me neither! But if you had to choose something to watch for the rest of your life what would it be?"

And Shouto doesn't think too much about the answers he gives, he's just being himself, but it's not really working. He isn't up to date with most things, and he had a pretty sheltered childhood so he can't relate when people say that the thing they loved the most was memories from when they were younger.

And in comes reader!!! You're looking for something totally different than what you're used to. So you ignore the flirtatious guys (even if it pains you), and focus more on Shouto; the cold, blunt stranger.

The more the two of you speak to one another, the more you find out that, hey, this guy is pretty fucking hilarious. Even when he tries not to be.

"So, when do you plan on breaking down this wall and running off with me?"

"I'm not too sure producers would like that, but if you'd really like, I'd do it."

You're pretty sure he's joking, so you just laugh.

(He is joking, right?)

You guys end up becoming a fan favourite. You're a very cheerful person, and you don't mind talking while Shouto just listens. You don't really mind how blunt he can be, and Shouto seems to like how straightforward you are. He doesn't have to guess how you're feeling, or read in between the lines when you both talk.

It's just honest conversation.

I also think that in the pods, you're a bit more confident because you can't really see Shouto, so you have no idea that there's a hunk of a man sitting behind a wall, talking to you.

"What type of ring are you interested in?" Shouto asks you one day, laying down on the couch as he awaits your answer.

"Ooh.. Does this mean you're planning to propose already? There's no other girl that catches you're interest?" You smirk on the other side, toying with the plushie Shouto brought for you.

It isn't long before Shouto replies, "Yes."

Because really, if he can feel this way about you— just your voice and personality— then surely this is worth exploring. It's nice to know that you feel the same, that you like Todoroki for who he is.

"Mm okay.. Get me a really cute one, like, medium. Probably."

This is my personal opinion, but I don't think reader came on the show for love— maybe to promote her business (definitely to promote her business), so she isn't really taking this too seriously, but then she meets Shouto and there's no way she can just pass up such a unique person. It's not like they'll actually be getting married at the end of this. They've only known each other for a few weeks.

That would be crazy.

Really crazy.

[waihtie]

I already need more Castiel

Season 4 Episode 2 - Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester

○ "All I know is I was not groped by an angel"

○ This whole conversation is so important to who Dean is

○ Every demon is absolutely downright terrified of angels. Even big-bad Lilith. Another thing that gets died down as the show goes on

○ Damn, hunters are being brutalized. Demons?

○ Wtf is dead boy Henriksen doing here? I'd say ghost, but he's guilting Sam, so I feel like it's not actually him.

● Now Bobby's seeing ghosts

● And Dean sees Meg (her real self, not the demon).

● Guilting them, too. Definitely not the real ghosts of these people

● That's how the hunters keep dying. Question is who?

○ More Dean and religious issues 💔

○ Okay, so it was the ghosts of the real people, just they were messed with when they were raised

○ I think this may be the first time they mention the apocalypse as a legitimate thing

○ There is a STUPID lack of Cas in this episode. You mean I had to watch 3 WHOLE SEASONS just to get 5 MINS with him at the end of the first episode?

○ YES. CAS. BABY. Coming in for the last 5 mins. But like. Come on. We can do better than that.

○ There's that look again. This is why I'm a Top Cas Enthusist TM :

I saw a tiktok of that ^ and it was captioned:

"the smirk, he definitely likes whiny bottoms" lmao

○ Also, these men are FINE. Look at Cas's messy hair. Askldjsga

^ This feels like a continuity error. Bc we know for sure angels have been on earth recently.

^ I'd fold right then and there. I'd be done for.

○ A few things about this scene:

● This is the first time Cas watches Dean sleep (I also think it's intentional, bc Cas wouldn't want Sam to be part of the conversation, so he had to wait until he was asleep)

● Dean walks so close to him. He can "personal space" all he wants later, but he started it. They are so close. Doesn't even move when Castiel steps closer.

Like, who has a conversation like that?

Okay, so I guess this will be the big thing of the season: There are 66 seals. Lilith is trying to break them all. Then Lucifer can walk free.

[altarecs]

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

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

spoilers under the cut!

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

real as hell already, jessifer.

me either, chan!! sometimes i think about them

oh i'm already so sad...

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

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

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

mentions chan without mentioning chan is my favorite thing ever.

MY FAVORITE PLOT DEVICE EVERYBODY, KWON SOONYOUNG!!

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

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

i do girl, give that application here.

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

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

CLOCK HER, TIGER MAN!

oh lawd the goin' is gettin' GOOD.

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

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

GUYS IT'S SHERLOCK

I AM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEETTTT AUAUAUAUA

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

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

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

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

this one

anyway, i digress

OH YOU BITCH THEY KISSED

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

alright bro.

BLUSHES LIKE A SLUT? HELLOOOOO LEE CHAN?

man i wanna come work at the aquarium too tf

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

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

when did you meet my ex, jessifer???

YN IS ME YN IS MEEEE

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

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

girl this is amphitrite, get with the program.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sparks flyyyy it's like electricityyy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i hate you for doing this to me.

ENDING NOTES:

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

Well done, Jessifer. I love it.

as wild and untamable as the sea | l.c

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

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

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

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

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

Another day, another dollar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That seems…expensive,” you say carefully. 

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

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

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

“Chan?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have some paper?” you ask.

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

Until it actually gets here, that is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it not true?” Chan asks. 

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

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

“Both,” you say with a shrug. 

“Can I ask you something?” he wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cautious, I would say,” he disagrees. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, well, I…” you stutter out.

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

“I have been considering it,” you admit. 

“What’s holding you back?” he asks. 

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

“I don’t know,” you finally say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you admit without a second thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit back,” he instructs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you want,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan, jesus fuck,” you cry out. 

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

“Yes,” you pant. 

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

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

“So perfect,” he murmurs into your skin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough,” he chastises without any real heat. 

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

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

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

“You’re human,” he says simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This…changes things,” you say.

“Does it?” he asks. 

“Doesn’t it?” you immediately return. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, he starts talking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[christopherisfoive]

Cold Burn (Chapter 3)

!idol reader x Seungmin ; enemies to lovers

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

Who starts a tour in the fall? Seriously. Who thought this was a good idea? It’s below zero, and I’m layered up to my neck like a human burrito.

I swear I’m a cold-blooded person. Is that a thing? Like, scientifically? Whatever.

Today was the beginning of my ongoing nightmare. Tour traveling started at 4:30 AM, which should honestly be illegal. We took two SUVs to the airport—one for us, one for Stray Kids. No forced small talk at an ungodly hour? Bless.

Fortunately, a certain someone (who shall not be named) ended up in their car instead of ours. Not complaining.

"God, is anyone else freezing?" Kat’s teeth chattered as she hugged herself, her cheeks already pink from the cold. She looked annoyingly adorable, and I hated her for it.

I smiled and snuggled up next to her, absorbing as much warmth as I could.

"You guys look like two penguins cuddling," Leah snickered, pulling her scarf up over her face.

The area of the airport where we waited was eerily quiet. No other passengers to weave through, no cameras flashing in our faces—just us, our managers, and security.

"Aren’t you glad we got here early?" Ari teased, pinching my cheek lightly. "Nobody to bug us. Especially you."

I huffed, grabbing her hand before she could do it again. "Thankful, yes. But something about this… it just feels like the calm before the storm."

Ari smiled, squeezing my hand. "No matter what, by the end of this, we’ll be different people. We’ll be experienced artists. Isn’t that exciting?"

I nodded absentmindedly, rubbing my thumb over the soft skin of her hand.

I thought about how lucky we were to have Ari.

I thought about it a lot, actually.

I glanced over my shoulder, eyes landing on the boys a few sections away. They were huddled together, wrapped in coats and buried in their own quiet conversations. Most of them had sleepy faces and grumpy pouts, a clear sign that 4:30 AM was too early for human existence—even for them.

And there, right in the center of their group, was Mira.

"Ladies, let's go. Boarding time."

Our managers started ushering us toward the attendants, guiding us to pull out our boarding passes and passports.

"I'm so sitting next to Y/N," Leah announced giddily, practically bouncing in place.

Kat raised a brow. "Yeah? Do you even have the seat next to her?"

Leah pursed her lips before latching onto my arm. "Yes…?" She obviously lied.

I laughed, letting her drag me down the ramp to the plane.

The plane was cold, the hum of the engines already lulling half the group into a dazed silence as we settled into our seats. Leah, as expected, had successfully talked her way into sitting next to me, immediately claiming the window seat before I could even react.

I rolled my eyes but let her have it, adjusting my seatbelt while she curled up against the side, her hoodie pulled up as she scrolled through her phone.

Across the aisle, Kat was flipping through a magazine, and Ari had already knocked out, her head leaned back against the headrest. Lucky.

I sighed, resting my head against the seat, and glanced over at the rows ahead. Stray Kids were scattered throughout the cabin, some with their hoods up, others already deep in their own worlds. Mira, of course, was near them, chatting quietly with Seungmin.

I clicked my tongue, looking away before I could focus on it too much.

"You should sleep," Leah mumbled, nudging my arm without looking up.

I huffed. "Easier said than done."

"Suit yourself. But don’t wake me up if you get bored," she warned before burrowing further into her seat.

I didn’t plan on it. Instead, I stared at the seat in front of me, my thoughts a tangled mess.

By the time we landed, my body was stiff and exhausted, a dull ache settling into my neck from sitting in one position for too long.

Stepping off the plane into the crisp autumn air, I pulled my jacket tighter around me, following the others toward the waiting company bus.

The bus wasn’t anything fancy—just a standard tour transport with rows of seats, overhead compartments, and tinted windows. Our luggage had already been loaded underneath, which meant the only thing left to do was figure out where to sit.

I barely had a moment to process my options before Leah grabbed my wrist. "Okay, where are we sitting?"

Before I could answer, a voice cut in.

"I’d sit fast if I were you. Looks like seats are going quick."

I turned my head just in time to see Seungmin slipping into a row near the middle of the bus, tossing his bag onto the seat next to him.

Of course.

I exhaled through my nose and chose silence, leading Leah to an open row near the back. As soon as I slid into my seat, I popped in my earbuds, staring out the window.

I could hear the others talking, voices blending together in casual chatter.

"This bus is nicer than I expected," Han mused, stretching his legs out. "I was prepared for the worst."

"What were you expecting? Wooden benches?" Kat teased.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh. "Can we just take a second to appreciate that we’re finally on tour? I feel like we’ve been preparing for this forever."

"Yeah, until we’re all running on two hours of sleep and regretting everything," Changbin muttered, already slouching into his seat.

Laughter rippled through the group. I focused on the rhythm of the bus moving, keeping myself detached.

"Y/N, what about you?"

The mention of my name pulled me out of my own thoughts. I blinked, glancing toward the front where Chan had turned slightly in his seat, waiting for an answer.

"Huh?"

He smiled. "Excited for tour?"

I forced a small shrug. "I guess we’ll see how it goes."

It was the safest answer I could give.

Mira hummed from somewhere near the middle of the bus, her voice light. "You always have such a way with words."

I didn’t respond. I just turned my head back toward the window, watching as the city blurred past.

Some things were better left ignored.

The hotel was nice. Not over-the-top luxurious, but definitely better than expected. The lobby was sleek, the floors polished, and the soft cadence of instrumental music played over the speakers as we checked in.

We barely had time to take it in before our managers were already handing out room keys and running through the schedule.

"Drop your bags off, freshen up, and meet in the lobby in twenty minutes. Rehearsals start as soon as we get to the venue."

That was all we got before we were shuffled upstairs.

I barely had time to throw my stuff on the bed before we were back down, piling into the bus again—this time with less excitement and more exhaustion.

-

The venue was huge.

Stepping inside, I felt the familiar rush that always hit me before a big performance. Even empty, the sheer size of the stadium was intimidating. Rows upon rows of seats stretched up into the rafters, towering over the stage that was still being pieced together by crew members and staff.

"Alright, let’s get started!" One of the coordinators clapped his hands, calling for attention. "We’ll run through stage placements first, then we’ll move into individual group rehearsals."

I rolled out my shoulders, mentally preparing myself.

The first official tour day had begun.

The moment we stepped onto the stage, the energy shifted.

It wasn’t excitement—not yet. It was pure business. Crew members were adjusting lighting, staff running around with headsets, and groups were already being directed to their stage placements.

"Alright, everyone!" The stage coordinator’s voice boomed over the speakers. "We’re going to run through the transitions between performances first. This is a big stage, and we need to make sure no one’s running into each other like headless chickens."

A murmur of laughter rippled through the group, but we all knew this was going to be tedious.

I stretched my arms above my head, glancing around. Stray Kids were on one side of the stage, Stellar on the other, and Mira kind of placed in between.

Seungmin was, unsurprisingly, not looking in my direction.

"Let’s start with the finale lineup and work backward," the coordinator continued. "That way, you all know where you need to end up."

I moved to my assigned spot, adjusting my mic pack as I glanced at my members. Leah gave me a small, knowing smile, like she already sensed the tension in the air.

"Alright, let’s run it!"

The music kicked in, and just like that—rehearsal officially began.

The first run-through was already rough.

People were missing cues, stepping into the wrong places, and nearly colliding as we tried to work through the transitions. The stage was massive, but somehow, it still felt too crowded.

"Alright, reset!" The coordinator called, rubbing his temples. "Let’s take it from the second transition. And can you all try not to look like you’re lost?"

I exhaled slowly, rolling out my shoulders before moving back to my spot. I was trying to tune everything out and just focus—until I heard his voice.

"Try not to mess this one up, yeah?"

I didn’t even have to turn my head to know who was talking.

Seungmin.

He was a few feet away, adjusting his mic pack, looking entirely unbothered. His voice had been just low enough that only I could hear it, but the smirk on his face told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

I let the words hang in the air for a second, choosing silence over pettiness.

I had already wasted enough energy on him at the fitting.

So instead, I adjusted my earpiece, took my mark, and kept my eyes ahead.

Let him think he got to me.

I wasn’t giving him that satisfaction.

Or maybe....

"Yes, Mr. Two Left Feet."

I heard Han stifle a laugh next to me, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Seungmin’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he scoffed. "Funny. I’d say the same to you, but that’d be an insult to my actual left foot."

I rolled my eyes, fixing my earpiece as the music started again. Han was still grinning, clearly entertained.

"You know, I should start keeping a scoreboard," he muttered under his breath.

I ignored him.

Let Seungmin think he won this round.

I had bigger things to focus on.

The next run-through wasn’t much better.

People were still missing placements, timing was off, and the stage crew was already looking frustrated as we kept resetting.

I exhaled through my nose, pressing my fingers to my temples while waiting for the next cue. One more round of this and I was going to actually lose it.

Then, just as I was trying to pull myself together, a voice too sugary sweet cut through the tension beside me.

"Y/N, you okay?"

I turned my head slightly, catching Mira’s perfectly concerned expression.

Oh. Here we go.

"Fine," I muttered, adjusting my mic pack.

Mira hummed, stepping a little closer. "You just look… tense. I mean, I get it. It must be a lot of pressure—especially with all eyes on you."

I stilled for half a second before forcing a small smile. "I’m good. But thanks for the concern."

She beamed. "Of course! We’re all in this together, after all."

I didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered just briefly toward Seungmin before shifting back to me.

Oh, she was enjoying this.

Before I could say anything else, the coordinator clapped his hands. "Alright! One last run-through before we break for now. Let’s get it right this time!"

Mira patted my arm lightly, like we were the best of friends. "Let’s do our best, okay?"

And just like that, she turned away, walking back to her mark as if she hadn’t just subtly dug her nails in.

I clenched my jaw, rolling out my shoulders.

I see.

-

I barely made it off the stage before dropping onto one of the folding chairs near the edge of the stage, exhaling sharply as I stretched out my legs. My entire body was sore, my head was pounding, and my patience had officially run out.

I wasn’t even thinking about who was around me until a bottle of water was suddenly held out in front of my face.

I glanced up to see Felix, offering it with one of his usual soft smiles.

"You look like you need this."

I sighed, taking it without question. "Thanks. I think my soul left my body somewhere between the second and third run-through."

Felix chuckled, sitting down next to me. "Yeah, that was… a mess."

I took a long sip of water, letting the coolness ground me. "That’s an understatement."

Felix sighed, twisting the cap off his own bottle. "You alright?"

It was a simple question. Not loaded. Not prying. Just Felix being Felix.

I rested my arms on my knees, staring at the stage where the staff was still adjusting props and setting up for the next group.

"I’m fine." A pause. "Just going through the motions."

Felix didn’t call me out on the half-truth, but I knew he didn’t buy it either.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, letting the comfortable silence settle between us.

"It’s always a little rough at first," he said after a moment. "But once the first show is out of the way, everything feels more natural."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my water bottle. "I hope so."

Felix smiled, bumping his knee against mine lightly. "You’ll be fine. You always figure it out."

I huffed a small laugh, finally feeling a little lighter.

-

Away from the lingering rehearsal chaos, Seungmin and Mira sat off to the side, their backs against a stack of equipment cases. The stage lights overhead cast long shadows across the floor, while crew members moved around, adjusting equipment and setting up for the next run-through.

Mira stretched her legs out in front of her, rolling her shoulders back with a sigh. "That was exhausting."

Seungmin scoffed. "Tell me about it."

Mira turned her head toward him, watching as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his knee. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a more amused tone. "You’ve been good about keeping her in check."

Seungmin exhaled sharply. "I’m not ‘keeping her in check.’ I just call things how I see them."

Mira smirked. "And yet, somehow, those ‘things’ always happen to involve her."

Seungmin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Mira leaned in slightly, her voice quieter now. "You don’t think she deserves a little push every now and then?"

Seungmin glanced toward the stage where Y/N was still sitting, finishing her water. She looked worn out but as guarded as ever—like she wouldn’t let anyone see how much today had gotten to her.

"She already makes everything harder for herself," he muttered. "She’s too stiff about everything. If she learned how to go with the flow, maybe she wouldn’t be so miserable."

Mira sighed, tilting her head. "Exactly. And that’s why we’re helping her. She needs to loosen up, right?"

Seungmin gave her a sideways glance. "Helping? That’s what we’re calling it now?"

Mira grinned, shrugging. "I prefer that over ‘messing with her.’ Sounds better, doesn’t it?"

Seungmin huffed a small laugh. "Sure."

Mira let the silence linger for a second before nudging him lightly with her knee. "You should lean into it more."

He raised a brow. "I already am."

"Not enough."

Seungmin studied her, his expression unreadable. "I thought we were keeping this simple."

Mira smiled sweetly. "We are."

She didn’t elaborate, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.

And Seungmin, whether he realized it or not, was already standing too close to the edge.

A loud groan echoed through the mostly empty stage, cutting through the lingering rehearsal tension like a knife.

"I swear, if we have to do another run-through, I’m going to actually pass away right here," Leah announced dramatically, stretching her arms above her head before collapsing onto the floor like a starfish.

Kat sighed, nudging her with her foot. "You’re so dramatic."

Leah flailed an arm. "I deserve to be. Do you know how many times I did the same move? I can feel my ancestors judging me."

Ari, who had been rolling out her shoulders, snorted. "At least you had the energy to do it. I’m ready to call it quits and we haven’t even done the actual show yet."

Han, who had been watching with mild amusement, leaned against a speaker. "You guys are acting like we just ran a marathon."

Leah shot him a glare. "Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Have-Endless-Energy."

Han held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I’m just saying—"

"Don’t," Leah cut him off immediately, sitting up. "I’m warning you. I’m one sarcastic comment away from losing my mind."

Felix chuckled from where he was lounging in one of the chairs. "Then maybe don’t waste your last brain cell flopping around like a dying fish."

Leah gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Betrayal. Et tu, Felix?"

The conversation rippled through the room, shifting the energy from tense to lighthearted. Even the crew members looked a little more relaxed, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Y/N, watching from the side, couldn’t help but let a small smile slip. It was moments like these that reminded her why she did this.

Even if everything else was a mess, at least she still had this.

Just as the laughter started to die down, the familiar clap of hands brought everyone’s attention back to the front of the stage.

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" One of the managers called out, clipboard in hand, already looking exhausted. "We’re going to go over tonight’s schedule one last time before you all start getting ready."

A few groans rippled through the group, but everyone straightened up, knowing this wasn’t something they could tune out.

"Doors open at 6:30. That gives us exactly four hours to finish soundcheck, do final rehearsals, and get through press content. After that, it’s hair, makeup, and wardrobe. You’ll be expected to be fully ready by 7:45, no later."

I exhaled slowly, already feeling the weight of the night settle in.

"And before I forget—Y/N," the manager continued, flipping through his notes. "We’re going to run through your solo stage after the group rehearsals, so make sure you’re warmed up and ready."

A few heads turned in my direction, but I just nodded, keeping my expression neutral.

I had known about the solo stage—it wasn’t a surprise. But now that the moment was actually here, it suddenly felt like another weight on my shoulders.

"Any questions?" the manager asked, scanning the group.

No one spoke.

"Good. Then let’s get back to work. This show isn’t going to run itself."

With that, the meeting ended, and the room buzzed with movement again. Some people started stretching, others went straight for water, and a few disappeared offstage for a quick break.

I stayed seated, gripping my water bottle a little tighter.

The first show of the tour.

And my first solo performance in front of an audience this size.

No pressure, right?

-

The dressing rooms were a mix of organized chaos—stylists running back and forth, makeup artists working quickly, and the chatter of last-minute conversations filling the air.

I had already changed into my stage outfit, but my mind wasn’t on makeup or hair—it was on footwork.

There was one part of my solo that still felt off, and if there was anyone who could help, it was Lee Know.

Spotting him in the makeup chair, I weaved through the room, dodging a passing hairstylist before stopping beside him. He glanced up through the mirror, arching a brow at my sudden presence.

"What’s up?" he asked, barely flinching as the artist continued blending product onto his face.

I exhaled, tapping my fingers against my arm. "That second half of my solo—the footwork in the transition. It still feels weird to me. Can I run something by you?"

Lee Know blinked once, then grinned slightly. "You’re asking me dance questions while I’m getting foundation put on?"

I shrugged. "Multitasking is a skill."

He chuckled, then nodded. "Alright, show me."

I took a step back, quickly marking out the section with my feet, focusing on the shift between steps that had been bothering me all day.

Lee Know studied me through the mirror, one hand resting on his knee as he watched.

From the corner of my eye, I caught movement on the other side of the room.

Seungmin.

Sitting on the couch, arms crossed, watching.

I ignored it, keeping my attention locked on Lee Know.

"It’s the placement of your weight," he finally said. "You’re setting your foot down too heavily, which makes the transition feel clunky. Shift your balance earlier, and it’ll flow better."

I nodded, running the move again with his correction. Immediately, it felt smoother.

"That’s it," Lee Know confirmed, pointing at me through the mirror. "Just keep your energy controlled. Don’t rush."

I exhaled, relief settling in my chest. "Got it. Thanks."

Lee Know smirked. "I accept payment in coffee."

Before I could respond, a voice from across the room cut in.

"You’re stressing over that?"

I turned my head, already knowing who it was.

Seungmin was still lounging on the couch, his expression unreadable.

"You’re overthinking it," he said, voice flat. "Just do it clean and move on."

I clenched my jaw but kept my tone even. "Right. Thanks for the insight."

Seungmin rolled his eyes, looking away like the conversation already bored him.

I refused to let him get to me right now.

I turned back to Lee Know, who was watching the exchange with mild interest.

"Coffee after the show," I said, picking up the conversation where we left off.

Lee Know grinned. "I’ll hold you to that."

And with that, I walked away—ignoring the fact that Seungmin was still watching.

-

The second the performance started, I knew something was wrong.

The first few beats of the song hit—and then cut out.

My heart stopped.

The audio in my in-ears flickered in and out, the instrumental disappearing and reappearing at random intervals.

No, no, no.

I kept moving, forcing my body to follow muscle memory, but the rhythm felt disconnected. I couldn't hear my members clearly, couldn't fully lock into the beat.

Panic clawed at my chest.

For a split second, I thought about looking offstage for help, but that would only make it worse. I couldn’t show uncertainty.

So I pushed through.

Every move felt hesitant, like I was a half-second behind where I needed to be. It was subtle, maybe even unnoticeable to the crowd, but I felt it.

I was off.

As soon as I stepped offstage, I ripped out my in-ears, my hands shaking slightly as I tried to process what just happened.

What the hell was that?

"You good?"

I turned to see Mira, tilting her head with mock concern.

"That didn’t look as sharp as usual. Are you feeling okay?"

I narrowed my eyes, something about her tone too knowing.

Before I could respond, Seungmin walked past, wiping sweat from his forehead. He didn’t even look at me as he muttered, "Maybe next time, don’t overthink it."

My fingers curled around the in-ears in my palm, grip tightening.

By the time we were out of the venue, showered, and back in normal clothes, exhaustion had finally settled in. The adrenaline that had carried us through the first show had crashed, leaving nothing but sore muscles and a desperate need for sleep.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet.

I leaned against the bus window, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against the cold glass as I stared out at the blurry city lights passing by. The weight of the performance still lingered in my chest.

It wasn’t bad. It should’ve felt like a success. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been off.

My mind replayed the way my steps had felt out of sync, the hesitation in my movements. The in-ears.

I should’ve been able to hear everything perfectly—but I couldn’t.

I clenched my jaw, shifting slightly in my seat as I glanced around the bus. Most people were half-asleep, some with earbuds in, others whispering quietly to their seatmates.

From across the aisle, Mira caught my eye.

She offered me a small smile, tilting her head slightly, like she was waiting for me to say something.

I didn’t.

Instead, I looked away, forcing my body to relax.

Further up the bus, Seungmin sat with his arms crossed, staring at his phone. He hadn’t said a word since we left the venue, and yet, I could still feel his presence like an itch under my skin.

I let out a slow breath, shifting my gaze back to the window.

-

The bus pulled up to the hotel, and everyone filed out slowly, dragging their tired bodies through the lobby. The exhaustion was hitting full force now, but my mind was still spinning from the show.

I needed air.

As we reached the elevators, I turned my head slightly, spotting Lee Know a few steps away.

"Minho, convenience store?" I asked casually, adjusting the hood of my sweater. "I owe you."

He raised a brow, barely hesitating before stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, alright."

The others barely noticed as we broke off from the group, stepping out into the cool night air.

I wasn't eve sure what I wanted from the store. Maybe just a moment to breathe.

The cool night air was a welcome change after the heat of the stage, the exhaustion of the show still weighing on my body. The streets were quieter now, neon lights reflecting against the pavement as I walked beside Lee Know toward the nearest convenience store.

This wasn’t some deep, meaningful outing.

I owed him a coffee. That was it.

I pulled open the door, the soft chime ringing as we stepped inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the endless rows of snacks and bottled drinks.

"What’s your order, sir?" I asked, grabbing a canned coffee from the fridge and holding it up. "Or do I get to surprise you?"

Lee Know eyed the can in my hand before grabbing his own. "You’re lucky I’m not picky."

I smirked, tossing it into the small basket I had grabbed. "Look at me, keeping my debts in check."

We made our way to the counter, the only other customer a half-asleep student shuffling through the ramen aisle. It was the most peaceful I had felt all day.

Or at least, it should’ve been.

Lee Know leaned against the counter, watching me as I set our drinks down. "You were off today."

I stiffened slightly, grabbing my wallet. "I still delivered."

"I didn’t say you didn’t." He shrugged, tapping his fingers against the counter. "But you weren’t comfortable out there."

I sighed, swiping my card before grabbing the plastic bag from the cashier. "My in-ears were cutting out."

Lee Know hummed, taking his drink from the bag. "That explains it."

I frowned. "Explains what?"

He popped the tab open, taking a sip before answering. "Why you didn’t trust yourself."

That was the part I hated most.

I knew how to perform under pressure. I had done it a million times. But tonight? I had hesitated.

"No one noticed," I muttered, mostly to convince myself.

Lee Know arched a brow. "No one except you."

I didn’t have a response for that.

The two of us stepped back outside, the cool air wrapping around me as I tightened my grip on my drink.

"Fix whatever’s messing with you before it actually gets bad," Lee Know said, stretching one arm over his head. "Because if you keep letting it sit, it’s gonna eat you alive."

I let out a slow breath, watching as he started walking ahead toward the hotel.

I wasn’t sure what irritated me more.

The fact that he was right—or the fact that I already knew it.

Taglist: @victoriaaf @mirophobic @littlewolfieposts

[ikkyfics]

the nanny

Kit Walker x f!reader

Summary: "Hi. You came for the ad?" His voice was raspy, slightly surprised. He ran a hand through his hair, as if realizing too late that it was disheveled. You nodded, not fully trusting your voice. "Yes—I… I saw the ad and... I’m interested in the job." Kit took a step back and opened the door wider. "Come in. We can talk better."

Warnings: no use of y/n, dad!kit, nanny!reader, fluffy, no briarcliff

A/N: It's been so, sooo long since I wrote about the kit, so I decided to do something cute, the poor man deserves some happiness (just look at that face, he's basically husband material)

The paper between your fingers was crumpled at the edges from being held so many times. You read the ad once more, as if the words would suddenly change:

Looking for someone to care for two children and help with the house. Immediate work. Interested parties, please come to the address below.

Simple, direct, and with a certain implicit desperation. It was your best chance. You had been in town for just a few days and needed a job, a roof over your head, some stability.

The house was small, modest, but cozy. The front lawn was a bit overgrown, and a tipped-over tricycle near the porch indicated it was indeed a home with children. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, your heart racing.

The steps on the other side were quick, and when the door opened, you found yourself facing him.

Kit Walker.

The name was in the ad, but you didn’t expect him to be... like this. Brown, messy hair, eyes the same color, deep and somewhat tired, as if carrying more than a man his age should. He looked a few years older than you, yet young enough to be the father of two small children.

"Hi. You came for the ad?" His voice was raspy, slightly surprised. He ran a hand through his hair, as if realizing too late that it was disheveled.

You nodded, not fully trusting your voice.

"Yes—I… I saw the ad and... I’m interested in the job."

Kit took a step back and opened the door wider. "Come in. We can talk better."

You entered, smelling the warmth of wood and coffee, mixed with the unmistakable scent of a house with children: crayons, cookies, and a faint trace of baby cologne.

The living room was simple, with old furniture but well cared for. There were toys scattered here and there, a small blanket thrown over the couch, and some kids' drawings pinned to the wall.

"Well, I don’t want to make this formal or anything," Kit scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit uncomfortable. "To be honest, I need someone as soon as possible. I work all day, and I can’t keep up with everything on my own. The idea is for you to be with the kids, help with the house... those kinds of things."

You nodded. "I can do that."

Kit studied your face for a moment, as if looking for something beyond your answer.

"Do you have experience with children?"

"Not professionally..." You hesitated. "But I’ve taken care of my cousins when they were little. I like kids."

Kit nodded slowly, as if considering your answer, but his gaze was still sharp, evaluating you in a way that made your heart race. He seemed like someone who wanted to trust, needed to trust, but didn’t give that trust easily.

"It’s a full-time job," He crossed his arms, the thin fabric of his shirt stretching slightly across his broad shoulders. "You’d need to be here all day, sometimes at night, depending on my schedule. I work a lot."

You nodded, trying to seem as confident as possible. "That wouldn’t be a problem."

"Good. Because they need stability," Kit rubbed his chin, briefly looking away. "It’s already been hard enough for them."

There was something heavy behind those words, something he didn’t say, but that lingered in the air between you. You wondered what exactly had happened, but didn’t dare to ask.

Kit cleared his throat, refocusing on the conversation. "Can you cook?"

The question came without warning, and you blinked, a little surprised. "Yes. Quite well, actually."

A shadow of relief passed over his face. "Great. I get by, but..." He made a vague gesture, as if already used to eating poorly. "It’d be nice if they could have real food, you know? Not just sandwiches and instant noodles."

You smiled faintly. "I can take care of that."

Kit opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated, shifting his weight. You noticed how tense he seemed, as if about to ask a question he didn’t know whether he should.

"Can I ask you something?" He narrowed his eyes, curious. "Are you married?"

The question caught you so off guard that it took an extra second to respond. "What? No! No, I’m not married."

Kit relaxed almost imperceptibly, and you couldn’t tell if it was because the answer relieved him or if he just didn’t want to get into trouble. "Sorry. I just... don’t want to hire someone with a jealous husband showing up at my door afterward."

You let out a short laugh, more out of nervousness than anything. "You don’t need to worry about that. No jealous husbands. No husbands, period."

Kit gave a half-smile, but quickly looked away, and it was at that moment that a fleeting thought crossed your mind.

It was sad that a man like him didn’t have a wife.

The thought came as a reflex, and you quickly pushed it away, as if you’d done something wrong. It wasn’t your business. But still... he seemed like someone who deserved it. Someone who loved deeply, who would do anything for those he cared about. A man like him shouldn’t be alone.

Before you could get lost in that thought, a sound echoed through the hallway—small footsteps, followed by excited laughter. Kit didn’t even need to turn around to know what was coming, and the smile that appeared on his lips was so immediate and genuine that something warm spread in your chest.

"DAAAAD!"

Two children appeared in the room, running without hesitation toward Kit. He bent down instantly, opening his arms to receive them. The first to arrive was a boy with light hair and bright brown eyes, who threw himself into his father’s arms with the force of a rocket. Right behind him, a little girl with dark skin and soft curls stopped beside them, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Kit laughed, running his hands through the boy’s hair before turning to his daughter. "Hey, hey, calm down. You don’t even know her yet."

The two turned to look at you, and you felt as if you were being assessed.

"Who is she?" The little girl asked, her voice small but firm.

"She came for the ad," Kit explained, adjusting Thomas in his lap. "She might take care of you guys while I work."

"Can she tell stories?" Thomas tilted his head, his eyes shining with expectation.

"I can," you answered, smiling.

"Better than Dada?"

Kit scoffed, indignant. "Hey! I’m great at it!"

Thomas looked at his sister, clearly waiting for her opinion. Julia crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at you before asking, "Can you make pancakes?"

You laughed, crouching down a little to be on her level. "With chocolate chips and strawberry syrup."

Her expression shifted slightly, as if considering your answer. Then she looked at Kit and then back at you, still evaluating.

Kit watched the interaction with a playful gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying seeing how you handled the two.

Finally, Julia nodded, crossing her arms. "I think you can stay."

Thomas agreed with an enthusiastic nod, and Kit let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

"Looks like you passed the test."

[melatonindeficient]

i just hate how Mel and Jayce never actually broke up.

Like if they did, I would probably (not really but whatever) be less salty about the way their paths diverged. Their last conversation had an hollowness to it, as if in making Jayce's character arc about saving Viktor rather than him trying to be a truly good leader (subtle shade at how I wish there was a greater focus on the Piltover-Zaun conflict) they forgot about about the fact that he also had other relationships (I'm also referring to how it felt like he didn't speak to much of anyone this season (and yes I'm aware this is partially due to him being in a hole for half the season, I'm referring to the rest of it)). Just because their lives were going in different directions and they were changing didn't mean they didn't have love binding them (I mean that was literally the premise of jayvik, and vi and jinx).

When they first saw each other again, they were two people who had undergone immense amounts of trauma over the course of a very short period of time—that conversation was never going to go very well. And as much as I hated the way he spoke to Mel at first, Jayce's reaction to seeing her makes sense; I mean, he saw Salo, who wasn't particularly likeable, and took him out just because the voices said so. Plus, in addition to his head splitting in two, his best friend had just walked away from him and used Hextech—Jayce's lifelong dream and reason for living—for an immoral cause. If Viktor could betray him, who was to say that Mel—his lover, yes, but also a tactical politician—wasn't also playing some long game?

We see his sense return to him during their passenger conversation, but his uncharacteristic bluntness makes it almost seem like he was severing their relationship, but I think that's a crazy thing to assume when he was preoccupied with a rapidly approaching battle, and one in which he'd have to attempt to kill his best friend (again! And this time in a more stable state of mind where he'd actually be able to register it!).

Now for my glorious queen Mel; she doesn't seem to have much of a say in any of this. She spends years in control pulling the strings of Piltovan politics, only to have all of her control seized from her in an instant. Then she comes home and her boyfriend—this one unchangeable force in her life, this one person she likely thought would remain the same—had changed. They never even get a chance to understand each other, and unlike the majority of the conversations Mel has, she doesn't have the upper hand or even a level playing field.

(personal opinion leaking through here because whyyy why could they not have just one more soft scene before she lost everything and he got absorbed into the freaking cosmos)

Anyway, Mel doesn't just let things happen to her, and it's not like the Black Rose just took that trait away from her (which is established because she could've taken her mother's betrayal and done nothing, but rather chooses to fight for the city she chose rather than the one that molded her). So the way that their last conversations went makes it seem like either she'd been expecting them to break up (which she deadass had no reason to) or they were both holding on to a hope that that conversation was just unfinished, and they could scream and yell and comfort and console when they weren't facing an imminent threat.

It's unfinished. It's empty.

Obviously I would've loved to see them together and happy forever and ever amen, but if they had to split i wish they'd actually split. Some angst or something instead of that empty ass fucking conversation.

[littlejoyss]

𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1

Stray Kids - Non-Idol! Hyunjin x Reader

Twilight Inspired Fic (but major differences such as age)

Word Count (so far): 10k

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: When you move to Forks for college you run into a group of friends who are out of the ordinary.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1 (currently reading), 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, more to come!

“Mom, seriously, I’m already settled. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You sigh for what feels like the hundredth time on this phone call. Your mom is overprotective, even when you’re across the country.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You shift the phone to your other ear, staring out the window at the endless drizzle of Forks, Washington. 

You were born here and lived here until you were three. That’s when your dad, Charlie, and mom, Renée, divorced. You have been living with your mother since. Sometimes you would visit Forks in the summer, but haven’t in recent years. But once your mom married Phil, her new husband, you wanted to leave their house. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Phil, but he was a major-league baseball player. So, he traveled a lot and wanted to bring your mom. So, to save trouble you moved in with your dad. 

Your mom hums, unconvinced. “But are you happy, sweetheart? You can always come back, you know that. You don’t have to stay there just to make your dad feel better.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “It’s not like that. I wanted to come. For college.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Another thing about your mom, she was stubborn and immature. You stayed with her for the longest time because there was no one else to take of her. Now, Phil can help clean the house and feed her. No more struggling to keep her happy.

You hear the distant sound of Phil talking in the background, something about a flight schedule. Your mom’s sigh filters through the speaker. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if it’s not what you really want.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, softer this time. “It’s not sunny, and I might actually freeze, but Charlie’s trying. I’ll be okay.”

Another pause. Then, “Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced, but she’s relenting. “Just promise me you’ll call if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

You end the call and drop your phone onto the bed. Outside, the rain continues its steady rhythm, a dull gray mist shrouding the towering evergreens. The air is damp and heavy, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. You pull your sleeves over your hands, staring out at the familiar yet distant landscape.

This is home now.

The thought is strange. You’ve visited before, but living here is different. The house is quieter than you’re used to, filled with the scent of coffee and old paper from Charlie’s endless police reports. No laughter from your mom’s soap operas playing in the background. No constant conversation. Just the occasional creak of the floorboards and the sound of the rain.

A knock on your door breaks your thoughts.

“Hey, kiddo,” Charlie’s voice is gruff but gentle. “Everything okay?”

You turn to face him, offering a small smile. “Yeah, just Mom being... Mom.”

He nods as if that explains everything. And maybe it does.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he says after a beat. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You hesitate. Cooking isn’t exactly Charlie’s strong suit. “What is it?”

He clears his throat. “Steak and potatoes.”

Your lips twitch. “Is that all you eat?”

He shrugs. “Gotta stick to what I know.”

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The morning air is crisp as you slide into the truck. Charlie had insisted his old truck was reliable, though the way it groaned when you turned the key made you doubt that. You let it idle for a moment, watching the windshield wipers struggle against the fine mist of rain clinging to the glass.

Your first day of college.

It still doesn’t feel real. Moving to Forks was one thing, but starting fresh in a completely new environment? That’s something else entirely. You’ve done your research, of course. But, it was still nerve-racking. 

The truck’s heater sputters before kicking in, and you take a deep breath before pulling out of the driveway.

The drive was nice. Tall evergreens lined the road, their branches dripping with rain, mist curling around the trunks like something out of a dream. The roads are slick, but you take your time. Despite the nerves twisting in your stomach, there’s something almost peaceful about the drive.

By the time you reach the college parking lot, the nerves return in full force. You pull into a spot and kill the engine, gripping the wheel for a second longer than necessary.

You can do this.

Grabbing your backpack, you step out into the damp morning air, the scent of wet pavement filling your lungs. Around you, other students hurry toward the buildings, some huddled under umbrellas, others pulling their hoods tight against the drizzle.

There it was. Forks College.

Your thoughts were cut off by a voice behind you, “Yo! You’re the Sherrif’s daughter, right?

Great.

“Yeah-”

The flash of a phone camera straddles you. 

Blinking against the sudden burst of light, you take a step back, caught off guard. The guy holding the phone grins, looking way too amused with himself. He’s tall, wearing a faded hoodie and a backward baseball cap, his sneakers splattered with mud.

"Sorry, had to document this. Sheriff Swan's kid, stepping into college like a total badass," he says, tucking his phone into his pocket.

You exhale, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment. "Right. And you are?"

"Tyler," he says easily. "My dad’s on the force with your dad. Figured I’d say hey before you got totally lost in this place."

You glance toward the looming brick building ahead, students streaming through the doors. It’s not huge, but big enough that getting lost isn’t off the table.

"That obvious?" you mutter, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Tyler smirks. "A little. First-day nerves?"

You shrug, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jerks his head toward the entrance. "C’mon, I’ll show you where the main hall is. Unless you wanna keep standing in the rain looking like you just saw a ghost."

You hesitate for a second, then fall into step beside him. It’s not like you know anyone else, and as much as you hate being recognized for your dad’s job, at least Tyler doesn’t seem annoying. Yet.

"Any idea where your first class is?" he asks as you weave through the crowd.

You pull out your schedule, glancing at the printout. "Uh… Building C. Room 204."

Tyler lets out a low whistle. "Professor Anders. Tough one. Hope you like essays."

"Perfect," you mumble. 

Tyler grins. "You’ll survive. Probably."

You shoot him a look, but he just chuckles, leading the way through the crowded hallway. The air inside is warmer, filled with the scent of coffee, wet jackets, and something vaguely like old books. Students mill about, some laughing in groups, others hunched over their phones or scanning their schedules with the same lost expression you’re probably wearing.

“So, what’s your deal?” Tyler asks, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets as he guides you toward Building C. “What are you studying?”

“Uh, English,” you say, gripping your backpack strap a little tighter. “Well, technically undecided, but… probably English.”

“Cool, cool. I’m doing journalism. Figured someone’s gotta report all the exciting Forks College news.”

You arch a brow. “Is there exciting Forks College news?”

He smirks. “Not yet. But hey, if you do anything Sheriff’s Kid-worthy, I’ll make sure you get the front page.”

You groan. “Please don’t.”

Tyler just laughs, and for the first time since arriving, you feel your shoulders relax a little. 

By the time you reach Building C, the hallways are thinning out as students shuffle into classrooms. Tyler stops outside the door to 204 and jerks a thumb toward it. “Here you go. Welcome to the lions’ den.”

You sigh, shifting your bag. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he says, already taking a few steps backward. “Catch you later, Sheriff’s Kid.”

Before you can tell him to stop calling you that, he disappears down the hallway. You shake your head, then take a deep breath and step into the classroom.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You had time before your next class that day so Tyler invited you to go to a local diner with his friends.

The diner is small, tucked between a hardware store and an old bookstore. The windows are fogged up from the warmth inside, and as you push open the door, the scent of coffee and fried food lures you in.

Tyler leads the way, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the checkered floor. A group is already gathered at a booth near the window, laughter spilling over the hum of conversation.

"Guys, this is-" Tyler pauses, turning to you. "Wait, do you prefer your actual name, or should we stick with Sheriff’s Kid?"

"You know the answer."

He grins before plopping into the booth. "Alright, alright. This is-" he says your name, waving lazily in your direction. "New recruit to Forks College. Be nice."

A girl with dark curly hair resting in a loose ponytail gives you a friendly smile. "Hey, I’m Angela." She gestures to the guy next to her, who’s busy stirring way too much sugar into his coffee. "That’s Eric. And across from him, that’s Jess."

Jess, who has been scrolling through her phone, looks up and gives you a quick once-over before nodding. "Nice to meet you," she says, sounding vaguely distracted.

You slide into the booth next to Tyler, the worn vinyl creaking beneath you. 

Angela offers you the basket of fries, and you take one. "So, first day at Forks College," She says, propping her chin on her hand. "Surviving so far?"

You shrug, chewing thoughtfully. "So far, so good. No catastrophes yet."

Eric snorts. "Give it a week."

Tyler elbows him. "Come on, don't scare the newbie."

Jess finally tucks her phone away and sips her drink, eyeing you over the rim. "So, what brought you back to Forks? Thought you lived with your mom.”

"Yeah," you say, swirling your straw through your water. "She got remarried, and her husband travels a lot for work. I figured it’d be easier to move here instead of being left alone all the time."

Angela gives you a knowing smile. "That makes sense. Forks is… different, but it grows on you."

Tyler leans back, stretching his arms across the back of the booth. "And hey, at least you've got us now. We’ll make sure you don’t die of boredom."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Good to know."

The conversation flows easily from there. They fill you in on campus life, which professors are worth their office hours and which ones will drown you in readings. Tyler and Eric get into a heated debate over whether the diner’s fries are better than the ones at a food truck near campus, with Angela and Jess rolling their eyes at the familiar argument.

The bell above the door chimes softly, and an odd hush seems to ripple through the diner. You glance up instinctively, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

Two guys step inside, shaking the rain from their jackets. There’s something almost unreal about them, like they’ve stepped out of a painting rather than from the rain.

The first one has features that are sharp and defined. His hair is dark and tousled in a way that seems both effortless and deliberate. There’s a certain elegance to him, an almost ghostly stillness in the way he surveys the room. His eyes, a strange and shifting shade, flicker across the diner until they meet an open booth, where he walks. 

The second one is just as striking but in a completely different way. This one is softer and more inviting. His skin is fair, almost luminous in the diner’s dim lighting.

You aren’t the only one staring. The diner has gone subtly quieter, conversations dipping into murmurs as a few heads turn in their direction. Even Tyler and Eric, mid-argument, pause just long enough to exchange a glance.

"Who are they?" you ask, voice low.

Angela follows your gaze and sighs. "Minho and Changbin. They’re a part of The Strays."

“The Strays?” You ask

"Yeah," Tyler says, leaning in slightly. "These group of friends moved here a couple of years ago. No one really knows much about them. They kind of… keep to themselves. That’s why we call them The Strays. They all live together in a house near campus.”

The bell chimes again, and three more figures step inside You don’t need Tyler to tell you they’re part of The Strays. There’s something distinct about them.

Angela talks again, “And that’s Han, Seungmin, and Jeongin.”

As they settle into their booth, it’s like the diner resumes normal function. 

"They always come here?" you ask, unable to stop watching them.

Angela shrugs. "Every now and then. Never with anyone else, though. Just them."

"They don't talk to people much," Tyler adds. "Not rude, exactly, just... distant."

Jess scoffs. "Minho’s rude."

Angela sighs. "You bumped into him once."

"Yeah, and he glared at me."

"That’s just his face," Eric offers, stirring his coffee.

You can’t help but glance at their booth again. Unlike the other customers, who chat and joke around, The Strays are quieter, their conversations low, spoken only amongst themselves.

Lastly, two more boys come rushing in. Their group of friends glares at them as they seem late. The taller one ruffles his already messy dark hair, grinning sheepishly as he slides into the booth. The other slightly shorter one just shrugs unapologetically at the glares they’re getting from their friends.

"Hyunjin and Felix," Angela murmurs before you can ask.

Hyunjin has the kind of presence that demands attention, sharp angles, and effortless grace. Even as he drops into his seat, there’s something undeniably fluid about his movements, like he doesn’t quite belong in the same stiff world as everyone else. His long hair falls in front of his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind, already deep in whatever conversation The Strays are having.

Felix, on the other hand, is different. He’s warm in a way the others aren’t, his freckled face lighting up as he says something that makes the rest of the group relax.

"They look like they belong in a damn movie," Tyler mutters, stuffing a fry into his mouth. "It’s almost annoying how cool they are."

You hum in agreement.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A couple of days later, it was time for your first class in the morning. The rain had barely let up since you arrived in Forks. You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you stepped into the building.

The room was already half full when you walked in. Students milled around, some chatting, others scrolling through their phones. You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat, only to pause when your eyes landed on him.

Hyunjin.

He was sitting alone at the lab table near the window, fingers idly tapping against the tabletop. His long hair fell slightly over his face as he stared out at the rain-streaked glass window, lost in thought.

Something about him felt wrong. Not in a bad way, but… off. Like he was on edge. His posture was too rigid, his jaw tight. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes snapped to yours.

The moment your gazes met, something in his expression shifted. You froze in place, gripping your bag strap tightly. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Hyunjin turned away. 

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’d walked into something you weren’t supposed to.

"Hey," the teacher's voice broke through the tension. "New student?"

You nodded quickly.

"Great. You can sit there," the teacher gestured, right next to Hyunjin.

Of course.

Grounding yourself, you moved toward the empty seat beside Hyunjin. As you slid into the chair, you couldn’t help but notice the way his posture remained unnaturally stiff, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack.

Hyunjin was actively trying not to look at you.

You wanted to break the tension, “Hello?”

Then, finally, he turned his head just slightly, enough for his dark eyes to meet yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. There was no warmth there, just something raw, something unreadable.

“…Hi,” he said at last, but the word was clipped, barely audible.

And then, just as quickly, he turned away again, his jaw tensing like he regretted even speaking.

Okay.

You hesitated, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Had you done something wrong? You were pretty sure you’d never seen him before, so why was he acting like you’d personally offended him just by existing?

The teacher started lecturing, and you forced yourself to focus, but it was impossible to ignore the way Hyunjin sat. He was completely rigid, angled as far away from you as he could without actually moving his chair.

And for the rest of the class, you didn’t say another word.

The second the class was dismissed he stood up and practically ran out of the room. 

You barely had time to process before he was gone, disappearing through the doorway like he couldn’t escape fast enough.  

"Well, that was weird," you muttered under your breath, gathering your things.  

A chair scraped beside you, and when you turned, Angela was there, giving you a sympathetic look.  

"Don't take it personally," she said, shouldering her bag. "Hyunjin… he’s always been like that. At least, with people outside of his group."  

You frowned. "Did I do something to offend him?"  

Angela shook her head. "No. That’s just how The Strays are. Especially him. Though I’ve never seen him have a physical reaction. Normally, he just ignores people.”

You glanced back toward the door as if you’d catch a glimpse of him still lingering in the hallway, but he was long gone.  

The whole thing left a strange feeling in your chest, and you had no idea why.

₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You walked into the scheduling office later that day to ask about your schedule when you saw him. 

Hyunjin stood at the counter, fingers pressed against the surface like he was barely keeping himself grounded. His head was slightly bowed, his long hair obscuring most of his face.

"I need to change my schedule," he said, voice clipped.

The receptionist, an older woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose, barely looked up from her computer. "Which class?"

"First block," he said immediately.

Your stomach dropped.

The receptionist sighed. "And why do you need to change it?"

Hyunjin hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist on the counter. "It’s… not a good fit."

"Not a good fit?" she repeated, finally glancing up at him. "That’s not exactly a reason, dear. If you’re struggling, I can get you tutoring-"

"No." His voice came out sharp enough to make her pause. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if trying to physically shake something off. "Just… is there another class I can take instead?"

The receptionist clicked around on her computer and then shook her head. "Unfortunately, all the other sections are full. You’ll have to stick with the one you have."

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, only to freeze the second he saw you standing in the doorway.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, it looked like he might actually say something. But instead, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he pushed past you, walking out of the office without looking back.

What the hell was his problem?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The weather was sunny for the first time since you moved to Forks. Jess invited you to go window shopping together and enjoy the warmth. The sun cast a rare golden glow over the small town, making everything feel just a little less gloomy than usual. You were starting to get used to the constant overcast skies, but the warmth on your skin was a welcome change.

Jess looped her arm through yours as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk, peering into store windows. For someone you had met two weeks ago, she was clingy. “See? You were worried you’d hate it here, but now you’re spending a sunny afternoon shopping with me. Progress.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You act like I’ve been locked away in some dark tower.”

Jess gasped dramatically. “You have! The tower of brooding and confusion. Especially when it comes to a certain Stray”

You groaned, nudging her with your elbow. “Can we not?”

“Oh, come on,” she teased, tugging you toward a boutique window. “You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious about why he acted like you were some kind of-” she waved her hand vaguely, “-cursed object in that classroom.”

You sighed, avoiding her gaze as you pretended to be interested in a display of jewelry. “I mean… yeah, it was weird. But it’s not like I can do anything about it. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m not going to chase him down for answers.”

Jess huffed. “That’s boring. I would.”

You gave her a look.

She grinned unapologetically, “He is kind of hot.”

“You’ve got it bad, huh?”

 “I mean, can you blame me? He’s got that mysterious vibe.”

You rolled your eyes again, though you couldn’t quite shake the thought of Hyunjin. It was impossible not to wonder why he’d reacted the way he did in class, but chasing him down for answers felt... wrong. You barely knew the guy.

“So,” Jess continued, clearly not done with the topic, “what’s your type, then?”

You laughed. “You’re really going to make me answer that?”

She grinned. “I just wanna know if I’m totally off base with my matchmaking attempts. You’ve gotta have some sort of ‘type,’ right?”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s less about looks and more about someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”

Jess snorted. “So not Hyunjin, then.”

“Exactly.”

She sighed dramatically, pushing open the door to a nearby shop. “Well, I tried. Come on, let’s actually buy something. There’s gotta be something here that’ll make this trip worth it.”

The shop was a bookstore. Clearly Jess didn’t know this before opening the door.  She froze in the doorway, blinking at the rows of bookshelves as they had personally offended her.

“Oh,” she muttered, visibly deflating. “Well, this is not what I expected.”

You bit back a laugh. “What, disappointed they don’t sell designer handbags?”

Jess sighed dramatically, stepping inside anyway. “I mean, yes, but we’re here now, so we might as well look around.”

You smiled, running your fingers over the spines of the books as you wandered further in. The store smelled like paper and ink. It was quiet except for the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional murmur from the cashier at the front desk.

Jess followed you reluctantly, dragging her fingers over a display table of hardcover books. “So, you’re one of those people, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One of what people?”

She smirked. “The kind that actually enjoys reading.”

You gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know books are great company.”

Jess made a face. “I prefer company that actually talks back.”

Then, a deeper voice spoke behind you too, “Books can talk. Audiobooks.”

You froze mid-turn, the voice hitting you like a memory brought back to life. It was teasing with a familiar lilt that sent you straight back to childhood.

Slowly, you turned the rest of the way, and there he was.

Bang Chan.

He stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, a lazy smirk on his face. He looked older, obviously, his features sharper, his frame broader. But the glint in his eyes was the same.

“Chan?” you breathed, barely believing it.

His smirk widened into a grin. “Took you long enough.”

Jess glanced between you two, brows raised. “Uh, hello? Someone wanna fill me in?”

You let out a breathless laugh, still caught in the disbelief of seeing him here now. “Jess, this is Chan. We grew up together. Our dads are friends.”

Chan’s grin didn’t falter. “More like she followed me around like a lost puppy.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his arm lightly. “You wish.”

Jess watched the exchange with growing interest. “Huh. So this is the childhood bestie. Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about Chan, but life had pulled you in different directions. You had stopped coming to Forks in the summer when you were thirteen. You assumed the distance had settled between you for good. But now, standing here, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Chan didn’t seem bothered by the question. He just shrugged, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

You nodded, still unable to fully believe he was here. “Are you going to college here?

   He shook his head, “No. I took a gap year to help out the family.” That explained why you hadn’t run into him sooner.

Jess, sensing the shift in mood, clapped her hands together. “Okay, well, I suddenly feel like the third wheel in a heartfelt reunion, so I’m gonna go pretend to care about books elsewhere.” She shot you a knowing look before wandering off toward the back of the store.

Chan watched her go, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got good instincts.”

You snorted. “She probably thinks you’re my long-lost soulmate or something.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t start.”

His laughter was warm, familiar. It was strange. It felt like no time had passed at all. But at the same time, everything felt different. He wasn’t the same boy you used to know. He had definitely grown some muscle.

You tilted your head. “So, what exactly are you doing with the family? Besides, you know, ‘helping out.’” 

Bang Chan has a BIG family. All of them lived in cabins near La Push. You remember making sand castles with him on the beach.

Chan hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering. “Just… community stuff. Helping my dad, looking out for people.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s vague.”

He grinned. “It’s a vague job.”

You weren’t buying it. There was something he wasn’t saying, but before you could press, he nodded toward the door.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go grab something to eat. We need to catch up.”

“Fine. Jess was getting bored anyway. I’ll go tell her.” you said, sighing dramatically. “But you’re buying.”

Chan laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

[howlingday]

Any wholesome Bluby x Jaune moments rattling in your brain?

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Hm... Not exactly anything ship-like at the moment, but I do have one idea.

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Bluby Rose had an especially stressful week. Not to get into too much detail, but her partner, Bleiss Schnee, offered her repayment in spending time with Jaune. Unfortunately, Bleiss' sister, Weiss, had dragged her away so that left her alone with her partner's supposed 'boyfriend'. He let her pick the movie and he'd provide, well, everything else.

"Oh, I love it when he does that." Bluby said, uncharacteristically elated.

"Does what?" Jaune asked, seated across from Bluby. The film was Rob 'o' the Wood, an animated film from when Jaune's parents were kids. On days when he and his sisters (mostly them) were being too rambunctious, his mother would put this or another film in and they couldn't leave until the movie was over. He'd seen this movie probably a hundred times over, but this was the first time he'd ever watched it with a film expert.

"The head waggle thing." Bluby imitated the gesture Prince Leon just performed. "It was probably the hardest to animate, but the fact they did shows how much they cared about character expressions at the time." She looked at him. "The voice actor is known for doing that sort of thing, too. It's a neat, little easter egg they put in."

"That sounds really cool." Jaune chuckled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to talk over the movie." Bluby retreated into her cotton-blanket shell.

"Ah, I've seen this movie over a hundred times." Jaune waved off. "Besides, my sisters are way worse. They'd actually fight each other during the movie."

"Really?" She peeked an eye out. "Ruby and Yang would fight sometimes, but not during the movie."

"Well, my sisters don't get along as much as you three." He shrugged. "Not back then anyways."

"Oh..." Bluby blinked, then returned to watching the movie. Jaune, noting her becoming quiet, decided the conversation was over and joined her in enjoying the film.

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'Oo-le-dally, oo-le-dally, Golly, what a day Oo- de-lally, oo-de-lally, Golly, what a day~!'

As the credits began to roll, Jaune looked over to find Bluby asleep on her end of the couch. He smiled as she softly breathed into the throw pillow she drooled on. Seeing as she was already wrapped up in her blanket, it only made sense to bring her to bed. Carefully, he slid his arms beneath her warm cocoon and lifted her into the air.

"Mm... Robbie..." She murmured. "Will you... marry me...?"

Jaune chuckled. "Oh, my dear, I thought you'd never ask." He replied, using the same line of dialogue from the film. "Could use a more romantic setting, though."

"Our honeymoon..." she yawned, "in Atlas..."

"Yes?"

"Haven..."

"Yes?"

"Sunny Shade..."

Jaune chuckled. "Why not?" Bringing her to bed, he laid her down, carefully resting her head on the pillows. "And then we'll have seven children."

"Only seven?" She grumbled. "Why not... a baker's dozen~?"

"Okay, a baker's dozen." Jaune rolled his eyes, remembering a similar promise to his parents. "Good night, Bluby." He then shut the door, leaving her to sleep in peace.

"Good night... Jaune... my love..."