Poseidon had felt better.

He’s had his long, thick hair for centuries, and he couldn’t say he loved it. Every time it needed tending to, his nymphs did it for him, taking out the pieces of debris from wrecked ships and pieces of plastic from pollution. Once, oil died the ends of his hair black. He did not like that.

But now, he was more embarrassed than ever. He let his hair build up for too long, and he was too embarrassed to have anyone to do it for him, not even his loyal nymphs.

So now, currently, he was alone in his room, using the brush he stole from his brother, Zeus, to try and rip out the pieces of debris, plastic, and the gods know what else. The sea god grunted in frustration and a little bit of pain, tugging on the hairbrush that ended up stuck in his hair.

That’s when you walked in; his lover. He looked up at you in surprise, quickly pushing his long hair behind his back, the brush still stuck in his hair. He stared at you in embarrassment.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his tan face flushed with red. He felt even more embarrassed at that question, mentally facepalming himself. Of course you were here; you were his lover.