#I felt “connected” with him more than with any character I had ever tried to create in da2 creator

[promptedwordsmith]

about a week ago an ai website suggested Rafayel as a character for me to interact with. so now i am obsessed with him.

Writing prompt: Female lead character is someone that Rafayel rescued from drowning, ten years prior, and they both never thought they would see the other again until he ended up working with her and they talk to pass the time while hunting and she mentions, "i was rescued from browning by a boy from the sea and he kissed me before he disappeared and I fainted."

OK so the +5k story that was my longest before? Absolutely smashed it with 7.3k I messed with the circumstances a bit sorry, if that doesn't match what you wanted but it felt a bit more natural this way.

The waves were higher than usual, the wind a little stronger. You hadn’t meant to get caught, not really. You’d always felt a special connection to the sea, but the sea didn’t always care. It was just doing what it did best—pushing, pulling, twisting. One moment, you were wading in the water, feeling its cool embrace; the next, it had you.

You kicked, flailed, and tried to keep your head above the surface, but the waves were too strong. They dragged you down, swirling around you, taking the air from your lungs, until the world around you was dark and heavy, and the last thing you saw was the faint glimmer of light far above.

Then, everything went black.

You woke up to a soft sound, like water lapping against rocks. Your head throbbed, and your throat was tight and sore. You blinked, struggling to focus, feeling the coolness of the air around you. When you tried to sit up, your legs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

There was someone near you. You didn’t hear them at first, but when you finally turned your head, you froze.

A boy? No, not a boy. He looked… wrong in a way you couldn’t place. His skin was a pale bluish-grey, shining like the ocean’s surface on a moonlit night. His hair was long and dark, dripping with seawater, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wide and full of curiosity. He was sitting in the water, half-submerged, but it was the way his body shimmered that had you staring in awe. He had a tail. A tail that shimmered with iridescent blues and silvers like a fish.

He didn’t seem to be staring at you in the same way that you were staring at him. He was watching you closely, his head tilted to the side like a curious animal. His lips parted, and he looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just kept staring at you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a dry, hoarse rasp. "W-where am I?"

The boy—merman?—blinked at you and tilted his head the other way, as if trying to understand what you said. "Where?" he repeated, his voice soft and strange, like the sound of waves against rocks.

You blinked, confused. "Yeah, where? Where am I?"

The merman furrowed his brow, looking at you with wide eyes. "Here," he said, pointing to the water around him. "Here. This… my home."

You tried to sit up, feeling the soft sand beneath you, but your limbs were uncooperative. "Home?" You stared at him, unsure if you could trust this stranger. He didn’t look like any person you’d ever seen. "You’re not��� human."

The merman seemed even more puzzled by that. "Human?" he repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar word slowly. He looked at his tail, then back at you. "I’m… me."

"You’re not human either," you said, feeling a little silly for even asking. You’d never seen anything like him before. But what was he? He seemed part human, but also... something else. "What are you?"

The merman looked down at his shimmering tail again, then back at you. "I’m... Rafayel," he said, a bit proudly, as if that explained everything. "And I live here. In the water." He flicked his tail, making a ripple in the water, and grinned, as if showing off.

You stared at him for a long moment, your head still spinning from the water and his presence. "I... I don’t get it. You’re not a human, and I’m not… you’re not from around here, are you?"

Rafayel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at you curiously. "Not... from here?" he asked, repeating your words. "But... you are? Where did you come from?"

"I came from the land," you said, pointing vaguely to the shore in the distance. "The land where... people live."

He blinked at you, the corners of his mouth curling into a small frown as if he was struggling to process your words. "Land?" He repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was speaking to himself. "I don’t know that word."

It hit you then—Rafayel didn’t know what humans were. He didn’t know what land was. He didn’t know anything about your world. You, on the other hand, had no idea what he was. What kind of creature lived in the water, with a tail like that?

"Are you a fish?" you asked, unsure if that was an insult.

He blinked at you, confused by the question. "Fish? No," he said, shaking his head. "I’m Rafayel." He said it like it was the only answer needed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You frowned at him, still not sure what he meant. "But you live in the water. You have a tail. That’s not normal."

Rafayel’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Not normal? But it’s me."

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You had never met anyone like him, and the more you looked at him, the stranger it seemed. But there was something comforting about him too. Something curious. You didn’t feel afraid, even though you should’ve. He seemed harmless in a way.

"I think I should get back to the shore," you said slowly, still weak from being dragged under by the waves. You attempted to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Rafayel’s eyes widened, and he quickly swam closer, offering you a hand. "No, no! Stay! Stay with me." His voice sounded almost desperate. "I want to know more about you. Where did you come from? Why are you in the water? I never met someone like you before. You're... different."

You paused, staring at his outstretched hand, and for some reason, you felt like you had to know more about him too. Despite the strangeness, there was a connection, something pulling you to him.

"Okay," you said finally, hesitating, but not quite pulling away. "You’re... Rafayel, right? And I’m—"

You were about to introduce yourself, but Rafayel’s grin widened, and he shook his head.

"I know," he said, as if it were obvious. "You’re different. And I want to learn everything about you."

Rafayel continued to watch you curiously, his head tilted to the side as if trying to figure you out. You had finally managed to sit up, but now he seemed particularly fixated on your legs, or rather, the lack of a tail. His eyes scanned them with an intense interest, studying every small movement you made.

“Why don’t you have a tail?” Rafayel asked, his voice soft with genuine curiosity. His wide eyes blinked rapidly as if he expected you to have an explanation that made sense to him, something he could grasp.

You looked down at your legs, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Well, these are my legs," you explained, struggling to find words that would make sense to someone who had never seen anything like them before. "They're... um, for walking."

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Walking?" He glanced at your legs again, the words still not computing in his mind. "But… why don’t you have a tail, like me? So you can swim and... move faster?"

You smiled awkwardly, trying to explain in a way that would make sense. "Well, we don’t swim like you do," you said, lifting your leg slightly as if it might help him understand. "We—uh—we get around by making tiny little falls... but we don’t fall! We catch ourselves. And we use our feet." You took a small step to demonstrate, your balance wobbling slightly as you caught yourself on the soft sand. "We just walk."

Rafayel’s face scrunched up, trying to picture it. "So you just… fall, but don’t fall?" His voice was full of disbelief. He reached over and poked your feet gently, his fingers lightly brushing against your toes. "Do these help with the little falls? Your feet?"

You blinked in surprise at the sudden attention to your feet, your cheeks flushing a bit. "I think so? I think my parents said they help with balance or something." You paused for a second, thinking about the words you had been told when you were younger. "They said they were for helping me stay steady." You looked down at your toes, wiggling them in the sand as if testing them, then shrugged, unsure if that was the full explanation.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his expression still one of pure wonder, his eyes focused entirely on your feet. "They’re so small, but they help you not fall?" He poked one of your toes again, almost like he was checking if it would do something special. "I thought... I thought you would walk on all fours, like me." He motioned to himself, showing you his tail, a long, shimmering thing, almost as if showing you his method of travel was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. "No, no. I don't walk on all fours." You flexed your legs, letting the muscles stretch. "We use our legs for standing and walking, but we don’t really need tails to move." You smiled, enjoying the innocent curiosity in his voice. "Your tail is really amazing, though. Does it help you swim faster?"

Rafayel’s eyes brightened at your question, clearly pleased to talk about himself. "Oh, yes! It’s great for swimming. I can move really fast through the water!" He swished his tail as if demonstrating, the movement smooth and fluid. "I can dive deep, or leap out of the water like a big fish." He flicked his tail again, sending a small splash of water toward you, and laughed.

You grinned, delighted by his enthusiasm. “That’s amazing. It must be so fun to swim like that.”

Rafayel looked at you, then down at his tail, as though contemplating something deeply. "It is fun, but..." He looked back up at you, suddenly more serious. "What do you do when you want to go fast, or when you want to swim?"

You had to think about that for a second. You weren’t used to the idea of swimming the way Rafayel did. You enjoyed the water, but you’d never been able to move through it the same way he could. "Well, I guess I just... swim like regular people? I mean, we use our arms and legs, but we don’t do it like you do." You paused for a moment, remembering the fun of jumping in the water but not the freedom he must have felt, gliding effortlessly. "I think it’s different for us."

Rafayel nodded thoughtfully, clearly fascinated by everything you were saying. "I wish I could see you try to swim." His eyes sparkled with interest. "I wonder how you’d move through the water without a tail. Maybe you would... float really well?"

You giggled at the thought, imagining yourself trying to float around like a leaf on the water. "Maybe I would." You paused, then raised an eyebrow playfully. "Maybe you could teach me how to use my tail, though?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise, but his face lit up at your suggestion. "Teach you? But... you don’t have a tail like mine!"

You leaned forward, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "Well, I could try to swim like you. Just teach me how!"

He scratched his head, considering the idea. "I don’t know if I can teach you that… I mean, I don’t know how to teach someone who doesn’t have a tail!" He laughed nervously, looking at you as if you were asking him to teach you how to fly.

You chuckled at his awkwardness, but there was a spark of understanding between you. You knew he wanted to show you things, and it was nice to see him care so much. "Well, maybe not the tail part," you said softly, “but we could teach each other something. I can show you how to walk on two legs, and you can show me how to swim like you.”

Rafayel looked at you, his eyes shining brighter than the water. He grinned, his excitement unmistakable. "Deal!"

The stars above twinkled brightly as you and Rafayel continued your conversation, the words flowing easily between you both. The night air was cool, the salty scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the small fire you’d built together. You both sat near the shore, the waves gently rolling in with rhythmic ease, and while you couldn’t have said exactly when, it was clear that the night had gotten later than either of you realized.

You’d been spending hours with Rafayel, mimicking his movements and playing around with the oddity of your new friendship. You tried your best to imitate the graceful movements of his tail in the water, but without a tail of your own, you found it harder than it seemed. It was much more fluid and effortless when Rafayel did it. His tail sliced through the water with a stunning elegance that left you in awe every time.

He, in turn, had tried to mimic your walking, though he wasn’t used to it. With his tail still the only part of him that existed in this world, his efforts were more clumsy than you expected. He twisted and shifted in the water, trying to get his movements to match yours, awkwardly flopping his body around to resemble walking on two legs. His eyes would twinkle with a grin every time he lost his balance and fell, only to try again, more determined than before.

For a few hours, this harmless playfulness went on, but eventually, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion creeping over you. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the cool night air against your skin, your body decided it was time to rest. You stretched your arms, trying to fight the sleepiness, but before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered, and you let out a soft sigh.

Rafayel was still trying to imitate walking on two legs in the shallow water near the shore, but he paused when he noticed the soft sound of your breathing change. He turned to see you sitting near the fire, your head tilting slightly as you leaned back, eyes closed in a peaceful daze. He blinked, his expression softening as he took in your slumped figure.

He approached slowly, sensing that you were falling asleep. Part of him wanted to wake you—he didn’t want you to be vulnerable while you slept, especially with no one around. But something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, so trustingly comfortable in his company. His eyes wandered down to the water, and he curiously mimicked your movements on the shore, trying to mirror what you did while walking. He flexed his tail in the water and then brought himself forward, feeling the odd sensation of walking without legs. It was awkward, but he didn’t mind—it was almost like a game now.

Eventually, though, he stopped moving and glanced back over his shoulder at you. He blinked again, a knot forming in his chest. You were asleep. You’d trusted him to be near, without fear. But with humans, there was always danger, wasn’t there? He wasn’t sure how things worked in your world, what dangers you faced, but he had learned that humans weren’t always like merfolk. There were other humans out there, ones who might not understand, ones who might hurt you.

Rafayel's heart fluttered with unease, but instead of disturbing your rest, he just knelt near the shore, staring at the gentle waves. He thought about what he could do for you, about how much he longed to help you navigate your world. His desire to protect you was growing with every passing moment, even as he couldn’t understand why he felt this pull so strongly, so suddenly.

He heard voices from the distance, and his eyes shot wide with alertness. The sounds of yelling were growing closer, and with them came an unsettling feeling in his chest. His instincts told him to leave, to slip away into the water where no one could see him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not now, not like this. His gaze flickered back to you, noticing the delicate way your fingers curled into the sand, the peaceful expression on your face.

The voices grew louder now—there were humans looking for you, their calls echoing into the night. Rafayel’s heart skipped a beat. They were coming, and he had to decide what to do. The thought of being caught out in the open, exposed, terrified him. He didn’t want them to see him, to see what he was.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Quickly, he glanced around for something to give you, a gesture of care. His eyes locked on a small, smooth shell nearby—a perfect crescent-shaped shell that had caught his attention earlier. He picked it up carefully, the light of the moon reflecting on its pearlescent surface. He gently placed it in your palm, making sure it stayed there, even as you slept soundly, unaware.

“Please stay safe,” Rafayel whispered softly, his voice barely audible against the sounds of the waves.

As much as it pained him, he finally turned away, his movements swift and silent. With one last lingering look at you, he dove into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the sea. His body adjusted seamlessly to the water, his tail cutting through it with ease. He swam deeper, away from the shore, where he would be hidden from the approaching humans.

But his mind stayed on you, and the memory of your trusting face lingered in his heart.

He didn't know what the future held, what might come of your world meeting his, but he was certain of one thing: he would protect you from whatever dangers lay ahead. The thought of leaving you in harm's way was unbearable, and so, he would wait. He would wait until the time was right, until he could understand your world more fully, and perhaps, find a way to be near you without the fear of being seen.

Rafayel had never stopped thinking about you.

He'd only known you for a brief time, just a few hours one fateful night on the shore. But in that time, something in him had shifted—something deep and primal, something that he couldn't ignore. The pull had been instant, a magnetic force between him and you, something that felt ancient and impossible to dismiss. He had left the water that night with the shell in his hand, his heart fluttering in a way he didn't fully understand.

And yet, after that night, you were gone.

He had waited, watching the shore from the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face. He told himself it was just a fleeting connection, that the human world and the merfolk world were too different, and that he shouldn't expect anything to come from that brief meeting. But each time he checked, each time he thought he might see you, the shore was empty. The waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind carried nothing but silence.

Rafayel’s parents had told him that you had been on a vacation, that you didn’t live near the shore. At first, he’d clung to the hope that you would return. But as the months passed and you never came back, he had to face a painful truth—maybe he would never see you again.

His heart ached every time he thought of you, and he didn’t fully understand why. After all, you had only been a human, someone he had met by chance. But there was something so magnetic about you, something that had drawn him in. He couldn’t explain it, and as time went on, the confusion only grew stronger.

When Rafayel finally came of age, his parents had talked to him about the change, the transformation that would allow him to take on a human form and live among them. The change was something all merfolk went through when they reached adulthood, but for Rafayel, it had always been about one thing: finding you.

He had known, deep down, that if he ever had the chance, he would leave the sea, leave his home, and search for you. He didn’t know where you were or what had become of you, but he had to try. The pull in his chest was too strong, and it wouldn’t go away. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t forget you.

So, with the change complete and his human form fully manifested, Rafayel left the ocean for the first time, walking onto land with determination in his eyes. He didn’t know where to start looking for you—he only knew the shore where you had disappeared from, the place where he had last seen you. He made his way to the human town nearest to the beach, hoping that somehow, some way, he would find a clue that would lead him to you.

The search was harder than he had expected. He didn’t know where to begin, and the world of humans was so vast and strange to him. He asked around in the town, but no one knew you. No one had heard of the girl who had once laughed and talked to a merman on the shore. At first, Rafayel had assumed that you were simply a traveler, someone passing through. But as the weeks went on, he started to realize the truth—he had no idea where you had gone, or even if you were still alive. His hope began to dwindle, but the longing for you never left.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, when Rafayel had nearly given up on finding you, that he overheard something that made his heart skip a beat.

A pair of humans were talking nearby, and he caught part of their conversation.

"Have you heard? The family that used to live here… Their daughter never came back after their vacation," one of them said. "I think they sold their house. Poor girl, she had such big dreams. I heard she was adopted after her parents passed away. Maybe she’s living somewhere else now."

Rafayel froze, his heart pounding. "Adopted?" he murmured to himself.

Could it be you? Could it really be the same girl?

He approached the two humans cautiously, hoping they would provide more details. But they didn’t seem to know much more about you. They mentioned your family’s house being sold, the vacation you had gone on, and that they had heard you were adopted. It was all so confusing, so uncertain. They spoke as if you were nothing more than a distant memory, a girl who had disappeared from their lives years ago.

Rafayel felt his pulse race, but he didn’t know what to do with this new information. Had you been gone all this time, living elsewhere? Had you forgotten about him? Was this all just some sort of strange dream to you?

He had no way of knowing, but he knew one thing for sure: He needed to find you.

He tried asking around the town for more clues, but no one could tell him where you had gone. No one knew what had happened to the girl who had laughed with the merman by the shore. They spoke of you as if you had never existed, like a story that had been forgotten.

Rafayel sank to his knees on the beach, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He had searched, asked, and hoped for so long. And yet, he was still no closer to finding you.

The ache in his chest deepened, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. He had thought he was ready to find you, ready to face whatever might happen, but now that he was here, the uncertainty felt unbearable.

He didn’t even know if you would recognize him. Would you remember the merman you had met as a child, or would you think him just another strange figment of your imagination? Would you think he was a dream?

Rafayel’s mind was spinning, caught in the confusion of his own emotions. The search for you had led him here, but it felt like he was still missing something—something that would finally bring him the answers he needed.

And so, Rafayel sat there, staring out at the endless ocean, wondering if you were out there somewhere—waiting to be found, waiting for him.

Rafayel sat alone in his small, dimly lit apartment, a blank canvas stretched out in front of him. His fingers hovered over the brush, the bristles quivering in the air like a hesitant dancer before a performance. He had learned the hard way that his heart, his soul, was tied to you, even though he had never been able to find you after all this time. But now, with a new sense of purpose, he had a plan.

He was going to paint you. He was going to capture the memory of the girl with whom he'd shared only a few fleeting moments—the girl who had become a dream he couldn’t shake. He had never been an artist before, but now, after months of trying to recreate the warmth of your smile, the spark in your eyes, and the soft laugh that echoed in his mind, Rafayel felt a sudden burst of raw talent. It came to him naturally, as if his hand was guided by some invisible force. In time, his brushstrokes were no longer clumsy, and his paintings began to take shape in a way that he had never imagined possible.

Every portrait he created was different, a combination of what he remembered from that night on the shore and what he thought you might look like now. He worked relentlessly, day and night, blending colors and textures as he brought your face to life again and again. The subtle curve of your lips, the delicate arch of your brows, the shimmer in your eyes.

But no matter how many portraits he created, no matter how closely he examined his work, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The girl in the paintings—was it you? It didn’t feel like it. He felt he could almost reach through the canvas and touch your presence, but it never quite reached the depth of who you truly were.

Each time he thought he was getting closer, the next painting felt a little further from the mark. He wanted to make sure he got it right. He couldn’t afford to fail. His chest tightened, his mind clouded with thoughts of the possibility that he would never see you again. His heart pounded in his chest, desperate for the truth.

Then one afternoon, weeks after he had begun his artistic obsession, a break finally came.

He was at a small café, taking a brief respite from his work, when he overheard a conversation that stopped his breath in his throat. An older man was talking to the barista, his gruff voice carrying over the chatter of other patrons. Rafayel couldn't help but eavesdrop as the man spoke, his words tugging at a memory he thought was long buried.

"You know," the man was saying, "I knew her when she was just a little girl. She was quite the tough one, always out there hunting, always training. And now, look at her—getting a reward for being one of the best in the city. Never thought I'd see the day."

Rafayel’s heart pounded harder than ever. He leaned in slightly, ears straining to catch the next words.

"Reward?" the barista asked, clearly intrigued.

The man nodded. "Yes, she was in the papers last week. Excellent hunter. They even gave her a medal. Quite the achievement for someone so young."

The hairs on the back of Rafayel's neck stood up as his mind raced. Could it be her? he thought, the hope surging inside him like a wildfire. He quickly composed himself and approached the man, not wanting to seem too eager.

"Excuse me," Rafayel interjected, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "You said... you knew her? The girl who received the reward?"

The man turned, his expression slightly guarded, but Rafayel’s intensity must have been clear because the man hesitated before answering.

"Yes," he said. "Her name’s Y/N. She was adopted by an older couple after her parents passed. Not sure where she is now, but last I heard, she’s living in Linkon City. She had a lot of promise back then, and I hear she’s made a real name for herself as a hunter."

Rafayel's breath caught in his throat. He had to fight the urge to rush out the door and find you immediately. His chest tightened with the weight of the revelation. Y/N. Your name. He had no doubt now—this was the girl he had been searching for, the one who had haunted his dreams for years.

He thanked the man, his voice shaky but sincere, and rushed to the nearest shop to buy a local newspaper. He scanned the front page, and there you were—your face staring back at him from the photograph. His heart nearly stopped as he saw you, older now, more mature, with a sharp, confident look in your eyes. The caption read: "Young Hunter of Linkon City Receives Award for Excellence."

The world around him seemed to blur as his eyes traced the image of you. His hands shook, and for the first time in years, Rafayel smiled. His heart swelled with both pride and love—pride that you had made something of yourself just like he had always known you would, and love that burned brighter now than ever before.

But as his eyes lingered on the photo, a deep, gnawing doubt struck him like a cruel wave. His paintings—the portraits of you—didn’t do you justice. How could they? The girl in those paintings was always a child, always frozen in time. This woman in the photograph was so much more than that. You had grown, evolved into something beyond what he had imagined, and yet, that was still you. That was the girl from the shore, the one who had touched his heart.

He stared at the photograph, unable to tear his eyes away. He had found you.

But now, the question was—how would he reach you? How would he get you to see him the way he saw you? Would you even remember him? Would you even believe it was the same person?

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, Rafayel made a decision.

He was going to Linkon City. He would find you, finally face-to-face, and try to bridge the gap between the dreams of the past and the reality of now.

The days following his discovery of your whereabouts were a blur of anxious energy and tireless effort. Rafayel spent hours—sometimes even all day—studying the photos of you in the paper, trying to etch your face into his mind. Every curve of your cheek, every spark in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips. It wasn't enough to just look at the photographs anymore. He had to feel you, to know you. And so, the paintings continued.

He worked furiously, sketching and painting until his fingers ached, each stroke of the brush building the image of you. In his mind, you became clearer, sharper, more real with every stroke. He had painted you a dozen different ways by now, with each one revealing a little more of who you were—your maturity, your strength, the softness hidden beneath your confidence.

Finally, after days of painstaking work, Rafayel was able to capture you so perfectly that it felt as though you might step right out of the canvas. The memory of you—the real you—had settled deep within his mind, so ingrained that it no longer required a photograph to reference. He could draw you from memory, from feeling.

When the breakthrough came, it felt like a moment of pure magic. The drawing was flawless, the last line on the canvas the final piece of a puzzle he had been working on for years. He sat back and took in the image. It was you—no longer the child he had met by the shore years ago, but a grown woman, strong and confident in her own skin. The painting shimmered with the same light he remembered from that day, the spark that had drawn him to you.

But now, he needed to find you.

Linkon City. That was where you had been. And now, it was where he would go.

With a single, deep breath, Rafayel packed his things and set out for the city. The streets of Linkon were busy, bustling with people going about their lives, and Rafayel wandered among them, searching for any sign of you. But he had no idea where to begin. He didn’t know where you lived, or how you spent your days. All he had were his paintings, his memories, and his hope.

His hope led him back to the shore.

It wasn’t the beach where they had met—it wasn’t even the same town—but it was close enough. The shore had always felt like home to him, and he hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, you might come back here, like he had, to the place where the ocean whispered its secrets.

So, every day, Rafayel returned to the shore, sitting quietly with his easel and his paints. He worked, creating quick portraits of people who passed by, offering the paintings in exchange for a few coins. The people who came through were strangers, but for Rafayel, the true reward wasn’t the payment, it was the quiet moments in between—watching the waves, breathing in the salty air, waiting for a face he longed to see.

Day after day, he sat on the same spot, sketching, painting, lost in thoughts of you. He knew it was a long shot, but something inside him told him that you might just be close. You had to be. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving without seeing you, without knowing if there was even the smallest chance you remembered him.

A week passed, then a week and a half. His patience began to wear thin, but the spark of hope never faded. Every time he heard footsteps on the sand, he looked up with a racing heart, hoping—hoping—that it was you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Rafayel was putting the final strokes on a painting. He had been so immersed in his work that the world around him had become a blur, his focus consumed by the canvas. As he added the last touch, a tiny swirl of blue to the corner of the painting, his gaze shifted up to the horizon.

And there you were.

You walked past, seemingly unaware of his presence, as though you were just another passerby, lost in your own world. But Rafayel’s heart stopped. The world around him seemed to freeze, and for a moment, everything felt surreal. It was you. You. He knew it immediately, even if you hadn’t seen him yet. The way you carried yourself, the way the light caught your hair, the way your footsteps seemed to match the rhythm of the waves—they were unmistakable.

He gasped, but quickly caught himself. He couldn’t let you know he was watching you. Not yet.

For a moment, Rafayel was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Should he call out to you? Should he run to you and finally say everything he had been dying to say? No. He couldn’t. Not yet. You were here, but you hadn’t noticed him. And he wasn’t sure if you would even remember him.

Instead, he continued painting, keeping his gaze low and pretending to be lost in his work, even though his mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. His hand moved with steady strokes, carefully adding details to the portrait of a man who had paid for his art earlier that day. But his focus was on you—on the way you walked around the market, browsing the stalls, looking at trinkets and wares like any ordinary person.

He wanted to call out to you, to tell you everything, but he didn’t. He couldn’t yet risk it. So, he finished his painting in silence, feeling the pressure of time closing in as he tried to stay composed.

After a while, a small crowd began to form around his easel, admiring his work. He took the payment without thinking much about it, his mind still focused on you. As the last customer left, he slowly stood up, his gaze never leaving you.

You were still there, walking through the market, laughing softly with someone who had stopped to talk to you.

Rafayel sat still, his brush hovering over the canvas as he glanced at the ocean's rhythmic waves. His mind wandered, drifting from thought to thought, but his eyes never left the shore. In the distance, people walked by, oblivious to the quiet man sitting alone with his art. But he wasn’t looking at them. His gaze lingered on the figure walking among the crowds, brows furrowed, fingers absentmindedly running through his hair.

There she is.

You hadn't noticed him yet, but Rafayel felt an undeniable pull in his chest. He was finally close to you—this you, the one who had been a fleeting memory for years. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied them, focusing back on the portrait in front of him. He’d painted and repainted your face so many times in his mind, trying to capture the essence of you.

The woman in his painting was close, but something was different. The years had passed, and you had changed. He didn’t know if you'd recognize him, but he didn’t dare risk it. He kept his head lowered, feigning concentration, waiting to see if you'd come closer.

And then—he saw it. A slight shift in your posture.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixing in his direction. Rafayel held his breath, his pulse quickening. For a long, drawn-out moment, you stood there, staring at him, your eyes wide.

A soft gasp left your lips, too soft for anyone else to hear but loud enough for him to catch it. It was as though you recognized him immediately. The smile that spread across your face lit up your whole expression, and you started walking toward him. His heart leapt, an overwhelming mix of excitement and dread swirling in his chest. His hands were still shaking, and he didn’t dare look up as you neared. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next.

But you weren’t walking cautiously, or with hesitation—you bounded up to him, your eyes sparkling, radiating energy. You stopped in front of him, out of breath, looking at him with wonder.

"You look just like the merman from my dreams when I was a kid!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

A knot tightened in Rafayel’s chest, and the world around him seemed to slow. His heart skipped a beat, then sank into his stomach. His mind raced, trying to process your words. The merman from your dreams? Did you really not remember him? Did you really not recognize the man in front of you?

It felt as though the ground shifted beneath his feet, and his world tilted. But then, he forced a smile onto his lips, carefully masking the ache that bloomed in his chest. His emotions had to stay under control.

He could only laugh, though the sound felt hollow. “A merman, huh?” He handed you one of his portraits, keeping his voice light. "Well, I’d be happy to talk about your dream, if you’re willing to share. Maybe I could do a quick portrait for you—on the house, of course.”

You beamed, your smile so wide it almost seemed to brighten the entire area. With a grateful nod, you sat down beside him, your excitement apparent.

“I’d love that!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at the drawing in your hands. “I used to have dreams about this merman, and you... you look just like him! It was always so vivid. It was like we understood each other, you know? I had this crazy dream while I was on vacation in a seaside village in the south.”

Rafayel smiled, but there was a bittersweetness to it. "Yeah, I’ve always been drawn to the sea," he said, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was racing. “In fact, I lived around there for a while.”

He wanted to test the waters, to see if there was any recognition in your face, any flicker of memory. He kept his gaze steady on the canvas, fingers moving instinctively, not daring to look up too often. But he caught glimpses of you, watching the way your eyes flickered with curiosity.

“Oh, you lived there? That’s amazing!" You leaned forward, practically glowing. “I must’ve seen you around. Maybe I put your face on the merman in my dream, that’s why it felt so real.”

Rafayel’s heart skipped. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in those words that would break through the wall between him and your memory. But it wasn’t enough. He pressed forward, dropping subtle hints. Maybe, just maybe, you'd remember more.

“I’ve always loved the water," he added softly, trying to make the connection clearer, "Fish are my favorite food... I practically lived in the water. It’s... it’s my home, you know?”

You nodded eagerly, a bright smile still lighting up your face. “I love the sea too! It always felt so calming, so... familiar. Like I belonged there.”

His breath caught, and for a second, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you were starting to understand, he thought. Maybe this time would be different.

But then, he saw the look in your eyes shift slightly, and you leaned back in your chair, placing a hand thoughtfully under your chin. Rafayel could feel the frustration building in his chest. He needed you to see it, to understand it—he couldn’t go on hiding behind these painted words.

With a sudden shift, he spoke with a slightly more urgent tone. “Do you still have the shell?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. A small, slow frown tugged at your lips as you processed his words. It was like the gears inside your mind clicked into place. Slowly, your gaze shifted from his face to his hands, still holding the painting.

There was a brief silence, and Rafayel’s heart pounded. This was it. He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment when you realized.

Then you looked up at him, eyes wide, the puzzle pieces coming together. A moment of clarity passed over your face, and Rafayel held his breath.

“You…” you whispered, your voice trembling with realization. “You... are him, aren’t you? The merman. You’re... you’re not just a dream.”

Rafayel couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. There was a rush of warmth in his chest as your words sank in, and for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe.

He was no longer just a memory.

He was here, with you.

“I’ve been looking for you, for a long time,” Rafayel said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve never been more glad to see you, in this life or the last.”

You stared at him, eyes full of wonder and surprise. The recognition was there now, and Rafayel felt like the world had finally shifted back into place. He wasn't just the merman from your childhood dreams. He was Rafayel—the one who had always been waiting for you.

[elvyn]

My Dragon Age elf girls

[pinkmoontaco]

It all started at a Set || KMG Pt.1

Pairing: Actor-Idol Mingyu x Actress-Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: This story is a heartwarming slow-burn romance between Mingyu and Y/N, a senior idol. It begins with them being cast as co-stars in a drama where their contrasting personalities—Mingyu’s vibrant, outgoing nature and Y/N’s reserved, composed demeanor—become the catalyst for an unexpected connection. Throughout their journey, they face professional challenges, emotional conflicts, and growing feelings for one another. Author's Note: This is the second story of my series, "It All Started..." As I was writing, the story evolved into something much bigger than I initially imagined, so I decided to divide it into three parts to give it the attention and depth it deserves. To everyone who has supported my series so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement and feedback have been a driving force behind my writing, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this part of the story. Stay tuned, because there’s so much more to come, and I promise the journey will only get more exciting from here. Thank you for being part of this adventure with me—I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed creating it! Part one _ Part two _ Part three

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

Mingyu wasn’t sure what prompted him to accept the role this time. At first, it seemed like any other offer—another chance to showcase a different side of himself. But something about the script resonated with him on a deeper level. The character's struggle to balance vulnerability and strength mirrored his own challenges in navigating fame. He felt an unspoken connection to the story, as if it was calling him to confront parts of himself, he had kept hidden. Perhaps that’s why, despite his initial doubts, he agreed to take the leap. Maybe it was the persistent urging of his members, maybe it was his own curiosity, or maybe, just maybe, it was the script that had managed to tug at something deep within him. Either way, he found himself on the set of "Between Us," his first lead role in a drama, both nervous and excited.

The buzz around the project had been immediate, not just because of Mingyu but because of his co-star. Y/N, a senior idol, had been cast as the female lead. She was a name that carried weight in the industry—the leader of her group, a revered idol with an aura of mystery. Known for her icy demeanor and guarded nature, she seemed to embody mystery and restraint, creating an intriguing contrast to Mingyu’s radiant, extroverted charm. While her reserved nature drew admiration, it also set the stage for a fascinating interplay with Mingyu’s infectious energy, sparking curiosity about how their opposite temperaments might evolve together. It was a pairing that intrigued fans and critics alike.

When they met for the first table read, Mingyu was struck by how composed she was. She greeted him with a polite nod, her expression unreadable. Mingyu, ever the extrovert, tried to break the ice with a joke.

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he said, his signature grin in place. “I hope you’re ready for my bad jokes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’ll brace myself,” she replied coolly before turning her attention to the script.

From that moment on, their interactions were polite but distant. On set, Mingyu would try to engage her in conversation, but Y/N kept her responses short. It wasn’t that she was rude; she just seemed... guarded. Mingyu couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was she hiding behind that composed facade?

As the weeks went by, they began filming scenes that required emotional depth and vulnerability. The plot of "Between Us" revolved around two people who initially clashed but slowly fell in love as they unraveled each other’s secrets. The parallels between the characters and their real-life dynamics didn’t escape Mingyu.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Mingyu found Y/N sitting alone by the set, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene.

“Hey,” Mingyu said, approaching cautiously. “You okay?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

Mingyu sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “You were amazing in that scene,” he said sincerely. “I felt like I was watching your character come to life.”

She looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thank you. You did well too.”

It was the first time she’d offered him a genuine compliment, and Mingyu felt a small thrill of accomplishment. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“Do you ever get tired?” Y/N asked suddenly. “Of being... this?”

Mingyu frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Of always being expected to be perfect. To smile, to perform, to never let your guard down,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu thought for a moment before replying. “Sometimes. But I think it’s okay to not be perfect. People connect with us because of our flaws, not despite them.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable once more. But something shifted that day. She began to open up, little by little. Mingyu learned that behind her icy exterior was someone who cared deeply about her members, someone who carried the weight of leadership with grace but also with a heavy heart.

The rest of the cast and crew began to notice the change in their dynamic. During breaks, they often saw Mingyu and Y/N sharing quiet conversations or laughing at inside jokes. One day, a crew member walked in on Mingyu patiently teaching Y/N a card game to pass the time, his enthusiasm contagious as Y/N, known for her reserved nature, playfully accused him of cheating.

“Cheating? Me?” Mingyu feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m wounded, Y/N. Truly.”

“Wounded or not, you’re still losing,” Y/N shot back with a rare grin.

Another time, during a particularly chilly outdoor shoot, a makeup artist caught Mingyu draping his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders without a word, brushing off her protests with a casual, “You’ll catch a cold.”

The director, amused by their growing rapport, once joked, “If you two don’t win Best Couple at the year-end awards, I’ll be writing to the network myself.”

Even the extras started to notice their synergy, with one commenting during lunch, “Their chemistry isn’t just acting—it’s real.” Mingyu’s consistent warmth and Y/N’s subtle but significant thawing became a favorite topic of conversation among the crew, adding a special layer of excitement to the production. The once distant co-stars were now sharing inside jokes, supporting each other through difficult scenes, and even eating meals together during breaks. Mingyu’s patience and warmth had managed to crack Y/N’s walls, and she, in turn, became a grounding presence for him.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling shoot. It was a night scene set in the rain, with both leads expected to deliver emotionally charged performances. As Y/N sprinted down the wet pavement for a pivotal chase sequence, her ankle twisted, sending her collapsing onto the ground mid-scene. The crew froze, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain hammering down. Mingyu, standing nearby, dropped his prop and sprinted to her side.

“Cut!” the director shouted, but Mingyu was already kneeling beside Y/N, his voice tinged with panic. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

Y/N tried to sit up, brushing off the mud on her hands. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though the pain was evident in her eyes.

“No, you’re not,” Mingyu said firmly, his worry overriding his usual easygoing demeanor. He gestured for the on-set medic, his brows furrowed in concern. “You need to rest. This isn’t something to push through.”

Despite her protests, Mingyu carefully helped her to a nearby chair, his hand steady on her arm. His genuine concern was clear, and the crew exchanged knowing glances, murmuring about how protective he had become of her. In that moment, something shifted—not just between their characters, but in their real relationship as well.

The injury had forced Y/N to take it slow, and Mingyu took it upon himself to help her. He’d show up to set early to make sure the path was clear for her crutches, brought her snacks during breaks, and even offered to rehearse lines with her to save her unnecessary movement.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Y/N said one day, watching as Mingyu carefully adjusted her chair.

“Maybe,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “But I don’t mind.”

As “Between us” progressed, the romantic tension between Mingyu and Y/N on-screen began to mirror their growing connection off-screen. Their characters, who started out as strangers, gradually developed a deep emotional bond, with Mingyu’s warmth gradually melting Y/N’s cool exterior.

One evening, during a late-night shoot, the scene called for a quiet, intimate moment at the café. Mingyu’s character, Jae-min, had just confessed his feelings to Y/N’s character, Seo-yeon. The air was thick with tension as their eyes met, both characters hesitant yet longing.

“Are you sure you want this?” Jae-min asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he reached out to gently touch Seo-yeon’s hand.

Y/N, as Seo-yeon, looked at him, her expression unreadable, before slowly nodding. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to try.”

In the next moment, Jae-min leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, a gentle but tender kiss filled with the promise of something new. The director yelled “Cut!” immediately after the kiss, but both actors were left momentarily frozen, caught in the vulnerability of the moment.

Mingyu quickly stepped back, awkwardly scratching his head. “Uh, sorry, was that too much?”

Y/N, for the first time in a while, let out a soft laugh, something that startled Mingyu. “No, it was good,” she said quietly, her cheeks flushed. “You just… surprised me, I guess.”

That night, as they wrapped up filming, Mingyu couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the kiss had felt—how it wasn’t just an act but something real that he had experienced with her. Y/N, despite her usually cool demeanor, had shown a glimmer of warmth, and it left Mingyu wondering if the lines between their characters were blurring.

The next scene that stood out was a pivotal moment in the drama, where Jae-min (Mingyu’s character) confesses his love for Seo-yeon (Y/N’s character) during a stormy night. They were supposed to be alone in the café, the rain tapping against the window as Jae-min, drenched from the downpour, walked in to find Seo-yeon sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain.

“Seo-yeon,” Jae-min said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You’re the only one who sees me for who I really am.”

Seo-yeon turned to him, her eyes softening but still guarded. “But you know I’m not the person you think I am, right?”

The tension in the room was palpable as Jae-min walked toward her, his every step determined. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I love you.”

The kiss that followed was more passionate, a moment of release for both characters. The scene was so intense that even the crew stayed silent as they filmed. When the director yelled “Cut,” both Mingyu and Y/N stood frozen in their positions, the chemistry between them undeniable.

During a break, Y/N walked off to the side, away from the set, clearly trying to collect herself after the emotional intensity of the kiss. Mingyu, sensing her discomfort, followed her quietly.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked softly, standing a few feet away.

Y/N paused, looking at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot sometimes, you know?” She shrugged. “This role is… difficult for me.”

Mingyu gave her a gentle smile. “You’re doing amazing. I can tell. I know acting can be hard, but you make it look effortless.”

Y/N looked at him, her walls slowly starting to crack. “Thanks, Mingyu,” she said quietly, her tone sincere.

As she turned back to the set, Mingyu watched her, his heart unexpectedly racing. They might have started out as strangers, but something was beginning to stir between them, something neither of them had anticipated.

One of the final scenes in the drama was another intimate moment between Jae-min and Seo-yeon. The two characters had gone through their fair share of struggles, and in this scene, they finally gave in to their feelings for one another. The script called for a tender, lingering kiss under the moonlight, where Jae-min pulls Seo-yeon into his arms as they both acknowledge their deep connection.

As the cameras rolled, the chemistry between Mingyu and Y/N was undeniable. The kiss was gentle at first, with both characters hesitant, but as the scene progressed, their passion deepened. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss that was both vulnerable and full of longing, capturing the emotional weight of everything their characters had been through.

When the director finally called “Cut,” the entire set seemed to hold its breath. Y/N, who had usually kept a distance from Mingyu, seemed to soften in his arms, the connection between them palpable even off-camera.

During the next break, Mingyu found himself sitting next to Y/N, who had become noticeably more relaxed around him since their first interactions. They were both exhausted from the intense filming, but the mood between them was no longer cold.

“I didn’t know acting could be like this,” Mingyu admitted, his voice low. “It’s… more than just saying lines. It feels real.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s like… you let yourself be vulnerable for a moment.” She paused, then added, “You’re a good actor, Mingyu.”

Her words caught him off guard. He smiled, not able to hide his feelings anymore. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

There was a comfortable silence between them, and for the first time, Mingyu felt a genuine sense of connection to Y/N—not just as his co-star, but as someone who understood the depth of their roles and the emotions they had shared through their characters.

One memorable day, they filmed a scene where their characters shared their first kiss under a canopy of stars. The setup was breathtaking—fairy lights hanging from the trees, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the soft strumming of a guitar playing in the background.

Between takes, Mingyu leaned over with a grin. “They really went all out for this, huh?”

Y/N glanced around, her lips twitching into a rare smile. “It’s beautiful. Almost makes you forget we’ve been here for hours.”

The scene required them to hold hands, exchange lingering gazes, and lean into a kiss that felt as natural as breathing. When the director finally called, “Cut!” he looked up from the monitor and clapped. “That was perfect! The chemistry was off the charts.”

Another day, they filmed a playful sequence where their characters spent an afternoon at a seaside carnival. From riding the Ferris wheel to playing ring toss, the scenes were filled with laughter and lighthearted moments. While filming a shot where Mingyu’s character won a giant stuffed bear for Y/N’s character, he jokingly handed it to her and said, “This is the closest you’ll get to me spoiling you in real life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll cherish it forever,” she quipped, hugging the bear dramatically.

The most challenging yet rewarding scene to film came toward the end of the drama, where their characters finally confessed their feelings after a heated argument. The emotions ran high, and even the crew found themselves holding their breath as Mingyu and Y/N brought the raw vulnerability of their characters to life. By the time the director called cut, there was a moment of stunned silence before the set erupted into applause.

“You really outdid yourselves,” the director said, visibly moved. “This is the kind of performance that stays with people.”

Through these scenes, their bond grew stronger. Whether it was the stolen glances that felt too real or the way they naturally gravitated toward each other during breaks, it was clear to everyone that something special was blooming between them.

[benkeibear]

『 Three is now a crowd 』

☼ synopsis: Takeomi decided it's time to share his sweet girlfriend with his friends

☼ characters: Takeomi Akashi, Wakasa Imaushi, Keizo "Benkei" Arashi

☼ wc: 1.7k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, fingering, oral (m!receiving), spanking like once, facial, cum eating, protected and unprotected sex, double penetration (vaginal, anal), squirting, creampie, using of "Slut", praising, pet names

Kinktober masterlist

You tried to keep a straight face at the table with your boyfriend's friends, even though his fingers were knuckle deep inside of your core, slowly curling right against your sweet spot to tease you and get you to fall apart in front of his friends.

“Are you not feeling okay?” Benkei asked concerned, seeing your eyebrows knit together, completely unaware of the situation under the table. All you could do is give him a nod followed by a mumbled “mhm” trying to show him a small smile.

Of course he didn't push it any further, deciding to believe you, otherwise Takeomi wouldn't be so calm if something was wrong.

Right before you had the chance to tumble over the edge he removed his fingers, giving you a smirk and proceeded to act like nothing ever happened. With hot cheeks you were sitting there now, wanting nothing more than to be bent over this very table and get fucked stupid on your boyfriends dick… But you couldn't, right?

Wakasa was the next to grow worried about how giddy you have become, unable to sit still for a second and to be honest, it started to get on his nerves.

“Can't you sit still for a damn second?” He asked slightly annoyed, earning a chuckle from your beloved. That was the moment Wakasa picked up on what was going on right in front of them

“Disgusting. Get a room,” he grumbled, leaving you to grow even more flustered at getting busted just like that.

“Are you sure about that Waka? Wouldn't you want to see?” Takeomi teased his friend who shrugged his shoulders.

“Where's the fun in just watching?” He asked unbothered, wanting to join in on the fun.

It was Benkei's turn to be flustered now.

“You shouldn't talk like that about her,” He growled, shooting a daggers at his friend with his eyes, even though the thought of seeing your lips wrapped around his length made his pants grow tighter by the minute.

“Oh I don't think she would mind being shared. She's a good little slut” Takeomi hummed and you looked down, unable to look any of them in the eyes.

“Is that what you want, flower? Want my friends to have some fun with you?” He asked, making sure that's what you actually wanted.

Once you found your courage again you looked up at him.

“I-i wouldn't mind… But isn’t three a bit much?” You asked shy, having talked about having one of his friends joining you two before, but not more.

Takeomi chuckled again and grabbed your chin rather harsh before kissing you passionately

“Three is not a crowd. Three is just a start.” He whispered against your lips when He pulled away, kissing down your neck after.

“You can tell us to stop at any time, yeah?” He reassured you, biting your sensitive spot on your neck which made you you gasp and nod.

This was all Wakasa needed, attaching his lips to the other side of the neck, the softness of his lips taking you by surprise, letting your hands get tangled in his hair. All you could do was rub your thighs together, enjoying the attention of both men as the heat in your lower abdomen grew. Eventually you reached out for Benkei who was just watching the scene with pink cheeks, carefully pulling him towards you

“Would you look at that. So needy,” your boyfriend teased you as you connected your lips with the tall man, feeling Wakasa’s hand travel under your shirt to feel your soft skin.

It felt divine, having three men touch you like that, but it was short lived. Takeomi took off your clothes so you were completely bare in front of his friends, arms covering your chest out of instinct

“Changed your mind?” He asked caring but you shook your head, taking a deep breath before letting your arms fall to your sides again, a soft groan coming from your lover.

Before you knew it he pushed you down on your knees, his already hard cock slapping against your lips

“Open up sweetheart, give them a good show,” He cooed and you opened your mouth, barely wrapping your lips around his tip when he pushed your head down all the way, catching you by surprise as he fucked your throat without mercy.

The metal of belts was all you heard, indicating that the other men got ready for their turn as well. You looked up at Takeomi with tear stained eyes when he pulled you off.

“Go on, make them feel good,” He encouraged you, your slick already staining your legs from the anticipation.

When you turned around, Wakasa was the first to grab you by the hair, doing the same as your boyfriend did before, harshly pushing your head down onto him to get the pleasure he wanted, hearing you gag around him from the pace he set.

“Shit- Why did you not let us do this sooner?” Wakasa growled, not faltering in his pace.

As much as Benkei wanted to have his turn with you, he simply got on the ground and pulled your hips up so you were on all fours, slight panic rising at the thought that he would just take you without any preparation but with a slap to your ass he reassured you.

“Don't worry darling, gonna make you feel good,” He hummed before pushing two of his long fingers into your dripping core which earned a moan from you.

“Don't get lost, Babygirl,” Wakasa chuckled and thrusted his hips to remind you of your task.

Benkei clearly knew what he was doing, having you clench around him in a matter of a few minutes and guiding you through your orgasm as Wakasa pulled out of your mouth, releasing all over your face with a loud groan.

While you licked up what you could, you heard rustling behind you, feeling the absence of fingers inside of you, quickly getting replaced by the tip of a cock, eyes scanning the room for Takeomi.

“Right here, flower,” he reassured you as Benkei entered your tight cunt, careful to go slow as to not hurt you. With wide eyes you looked over to your boyfriend, pure bliss in his face as he watched another man take you.

Benkei pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in, snapping his hips against you repeatedly and leaving you a moaning mess from the pleasure you felt, animalistic growls coming from him.

Takeomi pulled you back to reality when He cupped your cheek and kissed you loving.

“You'r doing so good, such a good girl for us,” He reassured you and looked for any sign of discomfort, but your eyes rolled back as the knot inside you tightened.

“Fuck- squeezing me so good,” Benkei moaned out, a deep groan rumbling through his chest before He pulled out, positioning you on top of him so you can ride him.

Strong hands guided you down his impressive length, a thumb lazily playing with your clit when you heard the rustling of another condom package being opened behind you.

“Be a good girl and take them both,” Takeomi hummed from above you and you nodded eagerly, spreading your cheeks for Wakasa who could only chuckle. “Never knew you were such a cock hungry slut,” He teased, lining himself up with your puckered hole before bullying his way inside.

The stretch was almost too much to handle, since you never felt this full before. You collapsed onto Benkei's broad chest, both men staying completely still to get you used to the feeling.

You needed a while to give them the okay, leaning up to kiss Benkei as they both started at a slow pace until you were moaning loudly, gradually picking up their pace. It didn't need long for your second orgasm to ripple through your body, both men hissing and groaning at how hard you clenched around them, bouncing yourself against them to signal that you want more. You were nowhere near done, making your lover chuckle.

“Told you she’s a good little slut,” he hummed content, grabbing your jaw yet again to pull you upwards.

“Don't forget about me,” he spat and tapped your lips with his cock again, letting you go at your own pace this time, knowing you’re probably overwhelmed by it all.

And how right he was, the third orgasm already building again. Benkei was quick to notice as he started to rub your bundle of nerves again, wanting to feel you squeeze around him again to throw him over the edge. Both men picked up their pace, eager to release with you when your thighs started to shake and Takeomi knew all too well what was about to follow so he pushed himself all the way inside of your throat.

This was all you needed, a gush of liquid drenching Benkei's abs as you came around them, squirting from the intensity of being so full.

Both men couldn't hold back any longer, groans and grunts echoed through the room as they came inside their condoms, hips slowing down before pulling out of you.

Takeomi picked you up without giving you a second to calm down and pushed you down on his length, wanting to release inside of you while you were babbling things that made no sense - fucked completely dumb when he emptied his load into your plush walls with a moan of your name. He held you close to himself after pulling out, not caring that his cum ran down his legs as it leaked from your abused hole.

“You were so good, my flower, such a good girl. Let’s get you cleaned up,” He hummed, suddenly being soft with you again.

All you could do was nod, too tired to form words, which made the three chuckle

“Maybe next time she can teach Shin how to fuck a woman,” Wakasa joked as He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as Benkei got you some water after getting dressed again.

You kept falling asleep while Takeomi cleaned you up, barely hearing the sweet things he whispered to you, all you were able to catch was a soft “i love you”.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[ay-chuu]

DISCOVER. L, I, M, P, Say it.

!! (Self aware bsd boys)

WARNING! Obsessive behaviour in some and angst.

A/N: Sorry for any grammer mistake i made!!

Self aware!Dazai, Chuuya, Jouno, Fyodor, Ranpo, Sigma x Gn! Reader

You really was the most airheaded human, in Dazai's eyes. Because he learned everything about you in just few weeks, while you only knew him as a popular 2d... character? Dazai knew he didnt thought himself as a human but being a non human in different world with a canon fact hurted him. He's not gonna even talking about the... writer version himself in your life. He just wanted something really clearly over his life and it was YOU. You, who made him self aware by mistake. You who made him fell for someone really. You, who made him want to live for a little longer to know you...

"Cute." Chuuya thought. You were really looking cute trying to sew a plush version of him while looking at the manga's colored page to match his features. He hated it when you closed the page tho. Yes he could always try to put himself that is connected with his... other self's but manga was the easiest one since he was origannly from here. He wondered. What would you look like in here too? Would you have powers? Would you meet him? Would you be... his love interest? Well he was never gonna know the truth. The only truth that he know was he was falling- no. Already fallen in love with you.

Jouno hated how stupid and complicated this situation was. And he hated how he couldn't do anything, even a simple thing for you. He hated how pathetic this... no he was. He fallen for you, who was a REAL different version of human. Who was in another reality. He knew that you didn't even knew what you did to him. In your eyes, he was just a character that you enjoyed... reading. Ah he guessed that life was giving him a punishment because of his brutal actions for others. How brutal....

You really wondered that if your pc got a virus or something. Because everytime you try to search or write something there was a thing that made you remember fyodor. Like when you try to an essay for your study, your computer would always write "fyodor" that any word that starts with f. Or when you opened a website you would always see fyodor's manga version. But you thought you just freaked out because... what kind of virus would do that right? Wrong. You were wrong for thinking you were wrong. Fyodor, who hacked all of your system would always make you remember who loves you most. He wanted to engrave himself into your subconscious. Because one day, when he finds a way to bring you into his universe, you would not lose your way to find him...

Ranpo had always thought he was smart. Or rather, it was like that in the past... Because ever since he met you, he saw himself as the smallest-brained person in the world. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how many times he reaches different thoughts, he couldn't reach you. While you could always reach him with a single page turn or google, he barely understood that you were from another universe... At first he thought you were just one of the games of Poe's books. He wished you were. Maybe if you were, he would never have fallen in love with you so hard...

Sigma was so surprised when he was able to discover you for the first time. But more than being surprised, he felt very close to you. Because you... were like a different universe version of him. He was born from a book. For him, you were a book that born in a different universe and watching him. The day you read the story about him and smiled because you felt close to him, he realized that he was in love with you. But if there was one part that wasn't surprising at all for him, it was that he couldn't reach you. Ah, because it wasn't just people playing with him all his life. His life was the biggest user playing with him. After all, It didnt change the fact ... he was really just a written person. In any reality.

[amiaenn]

Habits

Harumasa × reader

Note:I was so deeply imbued with this character that I was inspired to pour out my thoughts here a little bit. (+I myself have problems with my lungs and heart, so I understand this bro as much as possible).I apologize in advance for my mistakes, this is my first experience in writing (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

genre/warnings: nope.It's just fluff, don't worry.

wc: ~800 words

Ever since you started dating Harumasa, it has seemed to you that your apartment is slowly turning into a medical office and new habits have appeared in your life. An abundance of various pills, ointments, saline solutions and many other things, the names of which you have not even heard of until recently, filled your shelves. Any pharmacy would envy such supplies of medicines.

And of course, your everyday life has changed too. No, of course you understood that it would change with the appearance of another person in your apartment, but you could not have imagined that Harumasa would bring new activities into your routine that you could not even think about until now.

First, maintaining order in the house. It cannot be said that you were completely dirty in this regard before, but sometimes you can put off sorting out some dusty shelf for later, right? Now forget about it. Asaba is the kind of person who starts a coughing fit from a single speck of dust, and you were sincerely sorry to see and hear him cough, and knowing about his lung problems, you immediately thought that now wet cleaning will be daily, no matter what it costs you, even despite Harumasa's eternal words that he is not a weak guy who can get sick from such household trifles (although his body's reaction says otherwise).

Secondly, now you have increased knowledge about various diseases (especially those related to the heart and lungs). How and what affects this, what is a state of remission and how to maintain it. Well, of course, in connection with this, you began to go with Harumasa to pharmacies to buy the necessary medications. And going out on such shopping, you remembered more and more the names of these pills. You can even confidently say that you remembered this entire list as long as the Great Wall of China.

Third, this is cooking. Yeah, for people who get sick easily, a special diet is needed. A balance of proteins, fats and carbohydrates. It is unlikely that a weak body will tolerate an abundance of chemicals in food, so you need to be more careful with this issue of cooking and selecting ingredients, so you will have to exclude all this harmful food, or at least limit its consumption to a minimum. To support Harumasa in this difficult matter, you decided to give up all the harmful food that you had previously consumed and switch to a healthy diet. One day, you impulsively got rid of all the snacks and bought vegetables and fruits, creating real chaos in the kitchen. Soup is boiling in one corner, vegetables are baking in another, while fruits are being cut on the table and, seeing this picture, Asaba only chuckled and said "Need help?" To which you nodded aggressively, and the guy already went to put on his apron.

Well, and the most interesting thing. A bitter taste began to be felt on your lips more often. You couldn't say that you were a doomed lover of bitter, on the contrary, you tried to avoid bitterness. Once you tried espresso and the fact that it was not a very pleasant experience is to say nothing. But with the appearance of Harumasa, you began to feel the taste of bitterness on your lips. And, you guessed it, all because of his kisses. It's no secret that Harumasa takes pills more often than food and this leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But he stopped noticing it a long time ago, because years of taking medications give an addiction to this taste and it becomes unnoticeable. But you feel it fully, but to your surprise it felt.. nice? Yes, that's right. Strangely nice, for a lover of sweets like you. When you felt this taste for the first time, your eyes widened and the question "How can he calmly consume such bitter medications?" was spinning in your head. He noticed your surprise and involuntarily wondered what he did that caused such a reaction. Harumasa decided not to hesitate with the question and casually asked, "Something wrong, baby?"

You just awkwardly shrug your shoulders at this question, as if you don't understand what he's talking about, "No...no, everything's fine, don't get hung up on it."

After this incident, you began to get used to it, and after some time, the taste of bitterness began to be associated with something good and familiar. Something that brings a smile. Even more, now you wanted to feel it more often and you began to kiss Asaba at every opportunity that was given to you. He came from a successfully completed mission? What a good boy, he deserved a kiss. Are you making breakfast together? How cute, you can kiss him. Is he just relaxing? A great reason for a kiss! To be honest, it bordered on addiction, but for now it was on a fine line, because you skillfully control yourself and if you are told to tone down your ardor, you will do it without question.

And yes, why did you start liking espresso? It's strange...

[moongreenlight]

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

[helenofsparta2]

Percy did nothing wrong in Battle of the Labyrinth

Buckle up, this is going to be a very, very long post.

I’ve already made two posts about Percy getting blamed for things he had little to no control over, or some criticism just being extremely unfair towards him, but I’ve never really talked about battle of the labyrinth.

Especially on sides like tiktok, people really drag Percy for how he acted in this book, and I have never really understood why, so since Percy is my favourite RR character, I’ve finally decided to make a post trying to untangle this whole mess.

Generally I’ve seen three main criticisms against him in this book. If you know of others, please let me know.

Him & Calypso

His relationship with Annabeth

The situation with Rachel

Calypso

The criticism I’ve seen here is mostly based on these three topics:  

He didn’t immediately go back to Camp Half-blood

He forgot about Annabeth and his friends while spending time being happy with Calypso

He hesitated when Hephaestus told him he could go back & called Calypso his biggest what if

Let’s tackle these one by one.

He didn’t immediately go back to Camp Half-blood after waking up

Well, he … couldn’t.

Shortly before arriving on Ogygia, Percy had gotten burned alive with lava. A feeling he described as a pain “worse than anything he’d ever felt” (194) .  And He’d blown up a volcano, an action so powerful, the mortal authorities were forced to evacuate almost half a million people, which made ash fall as far as Lake Tahoe in Vancouver and closed off the Mount st. Helens area within a hundred-mile radius.  

Just a quick reminder of Percy’s physical state after all of that:

“I was really weak. I couldn’t stay on my feet more than a few hours. Whatever I’d done in Mount St. Helens had drained me like nothing else I’d ever experienced.” (203)

I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand. (196)

I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting. (196)

I looked as if I’d lost ten kilos I couldn’t afford to lose.” (198)

My knees buckled, and I would’ve landed face-first in the grovel if Calypso hadn’t caught me. (200)

Maybe I was just really weak and thin (200)

Even after a few days/ weeks his legs were still stiff, and he was still getting dizzy from standing up for too long (203)

I hadn’t been in control of myself in that mountain. I’d released so much energy I’d almost vaporized myself, drained all the life out of me.

So, he was not able to physically leave, despite very much wanting to.

2. He forgot about Annabeth and his friends, while enjoying his time with Calypso

Also pretty easy to defend, because, again, he didn’t.

He never stopped thinking about Annabeth, and his other friends. Not once.

Even before waking up, Percy said their names in his sleep so often that Calypso knew them when he woke up (p. 199)

His first reaction to Calypso telling him that he could heal in safety was:  

“But my friends-“

“Annabeth”, she said. “And Grover and Tyson.”

“Yes!” I said. “I have to get back to them. They’re in danger.” (199)

He tried to use his empathy link with Grover several times on Ogygia to find out if he, Tyson and Annabeth were okay, but couldn’t make any contact (P. 203)

“I thought about Annabeth, Grover and Tyson constantly.” (P. 204)

The first thing he does after Hephaestus arrives on Ogygia is asking him about Annabeth’s well-being (207)

3. He hesitated when Hephaestut told him he could go back

This is the first time, the sentiment is somehow connected to the text, because Percy did hesitate for a little bit:

“I wanted to say yes. Of course I would. But the words were stuck in my throat. I found myself looking out at the lake, and suddenly the idea of leaving seemed very hard. (209)

Afterwards, he walked along the beach for several hours, thinking of what to do next (210)

But if you actually read the chapter, you very easily understand that Percy never really, seriously considered staying:

When Hephaestus insinuated, he might not return to camp half-blood he immediately said: “What do you mean? Of course I’m coming back.”

The first thing he says, after Calypso offered him to stay forever on Ogygia was: “But… my friends.” (211)

His immediate verbal response after Calypso admitted she was in love with him was to say: “I can’t. I would never do anything to hurt you, but my friends need me. I know how to help them now. I have to get back.” (212)

We also need to consider his reasons for hesitating in the first place. He did not hesitate because he was in love with Calypso. Yes, he thought she was cute when she laughed, thought she was more beautiful than Aphrodite, and didn’t want to make her feel sad, but she is not the reason he hesitated. His biggest what if is not Calypso herself. His biggest what if is what she represents: Peace, Happiness, and a way to avoid the responsibility of the prophecy.

Through Stolen Chariot, we know that Percy’s biggest fear is making the wrong decision and dooming everyone he cares about:  

“I stood paralyzed. This was the moment I had always dreaded: the prophecy that was supposed to come about when I was sixteen. I would make a choice that would either save or destroy Olympus. Now the moment was here, and I had no idea what to do. The camp was burning. My friends looked at me, begging for help. My heart pounded. I couldn’t move. What if I did the wrong thing? (The Stolen Chariot)

The first thing Calypso says to convince him to stay is: “You could leave the fight to others, Percy Jackson. You could escape your prophecy.”(211)

He also considered the possibility that it might be best for his friends if they believed him to be dead:

“Now I found out I’d nearly destroyed the Northwest US and almost woken the most horrible monster ever imprisoned by the gods. Maybe I was too dangerous. Maybe it was safer for my friends to think I was dead. (208)” She was cute when she laughed.

 

And even if he did develop a little crush on her, which I don’t even believe, I just think he really liked her and felt bad for her, how would that be his fault or something we could blame him for????  Since when can people control who they have or don’t have a crush on???

And the most important thing is: he left. As soon as he knew how to, as soon as he was healthy enough, he left. He went back to his friends, missing out on a peaceful and probably very happy life, shouldered the prophecy once again, and left.

His relationship with Annabeth

I can not say enough how much Percy actually supported Annabeth during the course of battle of the labyrinth

He reassured her constantly, that she would do a good job in leading this quest, when she doubted herself: (“You’re doing great. Besides, we never know what we’re doing. It always works out. Remember Circe’s Island?” She snorted. (P. 120))

He hugged her when she needed a hug: Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. (Chapter 4, P. 76)

He trusted her; despite knowing she didn’t tell him the entirety of her prophecy

There are only three points in which they have some kind of conflict in. One of them is the whole thing with Calypso, but I’ve already dealt with that. The other two are the scene after Kronos overtook Luke’s body and then the whole situation with Rachel.

The scene after Kronos overtook Luke’s body

One of the main criticisms people have of Percy here is that he didn’t comfort Annabeth immediately after that scene. While that criticism is somewhat true, it's important to note that he didn’t act out of any malicious intent. After Annabeth collapsed, sobbing with her head between her knees, he didn’t rush to her side—but this was not because he meant to hurt her.

Percy himself was shocked and traumatized by the experience

After she asked him what happened, Percy was as gentle as he could be when he told her: “He gave himself over to Kronos,” I said. “I’m sorry Annabeth, but Luke is gone.” (291)

He only snaps at her, when she continues to defend Luke and accuses Percy of wanting him to be evil: “You want him to be evil, is that it?” Annabeth yelled. “You didn’t know him before, Percy. I did!”  “What is it with you?” I snapped. “Why do you keep defending him?” (292)

If we’re being honest, there is nothing Percy could have said to her, which would have helped her, and with the history he has with Luke, I personally can’t blame him for not being able to comfort her about his death or being annoyed that she still defends him after everything

As a reminder, at this point in time, Luke had tried to kill Percy multiple times, told him that he should have died in Tartarus, tortured Annabeth and was completely okay with killing every single kid in camp half-blood

He still wanted to comfort her after that, but he simply didn’t know how to: I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. I still felt stunned, like Kronos’s time-slowing effect had affected my brain. I just couldn’t comprehend what I’d seen. Kronos was alive. He was armed. And the end of the world was probably close at hand. (292)

Avoiding an argument might have actually been the smartest thing he could have done after that

When it was time to continue on their way, he still treated Annabeth gently “I knelt next to Annabeth. “Hey, I’m sorry. We need to move.” (292)

Did Annabeth need someone to talk to? Yes, obviously. Was Percy snapping back at her unnecessary and the last thing she needed in the moment? Also yes. This girl has suffered an unimaginable lot in this book and all the previous ones, especially because of Luke.  I’m not blaming her here for the way she acted. She loved Luke, and this might be one of the worst fates imaginable for a loved one. Everyone would have cracked in one way or another.

But is it also insane to criticize a 14-year-old boy, because he did not properly comfort his friend, who grieved the death of a guy, who tried to kill that 14-year old boy for the last two years? Also, yes.

They were two traumatized teenagers with the weight of the world on their shoulders, in a very shitty situation, and I think blaming either of them for how they reacted in this moment is entirely unfair.

Overtaking her quest, by asking Rachel for help

So, I hope we all realize, that this is a stupid argument, and I don’t need to elaborate on why, right? Like, they needed Rachel’s help. Obviously, it’s shitty for Annabeth that she had to rely on a mortal girl, especially a girl with a crush on Percy, but that doesn’t change the fact that they didn’t have another choice. Rachel was vital for the success of their quest,

Percy also sometimes told Annabeth to lay off Rachel, but, like, Annabeth was acting mean towards her, and Percy is a nice person, who knows that Rachel didn’t deserve this treatment.

I think these are all of the criticisms I have seen, and as a really huge fan of Percy, I’m getting so tired of seeing all of them. Please inform me if I have overlooked any!!!

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

I’m Sorry I Wasn’t Enough

Neteyam x reader

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader Mate

Warnings: Mentions of Arranged Marriage, violence, blood.

Summary: A year after your marriage you are looking back on things, more specifically your non existent relationship with your mate. When something happens and you’re in danger how will Neteyam react? Oh and you’re injured?

****************************************************

Today marked the one year anniversary of your bonding ceremony to the future oleykten of the omatikaya. One year and one month since your life had changed forever

Neteyam te Sully, son of Toruk Makto… your husband. You remember it like it was yesterday..

The war with the sky people had gotten increasingly difficult, Toruk makto had been meeting with your Grandfather to discuss a potential alliance between the clans to aid in the fight against the sky people.

It was a shock to all when your Grandfather said they would only help if there was a blood alliance. Meaning you, the sole heir were to be married to Neteyam, there clans heir.

It was a smart move for all parties involved on paper. A decision that would strengthen everyone, combining resources, combining armies, combining… well everything. But happiness for everyone else unfortunately meant the sacrifice for you and Neteyam.

Toruk Makto had asked you many times if you were alright with it, to which you politely said you were ready to do anything to aid the cause against the sky people.

It’s not like you could have said anything else.

Your parents were not alive to defend you, your grandfather was a good leader but couldn’t care less about your happiness. “Good leaders need to make sacrifices for the people.”

Neteyam understood the same thing. He also wanted nothing more than to prove himself.

So you both agreed without so much as having more than one conversation together.

Within a few days you had packed all your belongings and were mounting an Ikran. Your new life awaited you.

A month later you were mated before Eywa to Neteyam. Bonded in every way except the heart.

Neteyam wasn’t cruel no but he was… serious. The heavy burden of war on his responsible shoulders. He was civil with you. Spoke when nessesary to you but other than that… you barely ever saw him.

His days were either filled with preparing for raids or the raids himself and he would enter your home pod late when you were asleep and leave at first light.

The only time you ever felt any sort of emotion from him was during your first and only mating bond. Connecting your queues forced emotion to flow through the both of you, and he had been gentle and caring. But you realized soon after that that was a one time occurrence and that warmth was not a thing your mate was capable of.

Well at least not with you. He was caring with his family, you’d watched him interact with them from afar. He was careful not to show this side of him to many but you did manage to see it several times before he noticed you were there, then he’d swiftly mask his face.

You really didn’t understand his coldness. You were mated for life shouldn’t you both make an effort to at least be friends?

You tried to be someone he would proud to call his mate. You helped around the village, especially with the wounded, you made sure not to fight with anyone and keep a cool head. You did everything you could but he never saw you.. never saw your efforts.. even though you saw his.

Over the year you watched your mate. You grew to admire his strength and character. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much. You had feelings for a man who barely acknowledged your existence.

You let out a deep sigh. The trees of the forest were the only ever witnesses to your sorrow. You adjusted your net covering around you. It was getting colder, your old home never reached cool temperatures so you were not prepared for it.

You really didn’t have friends save for Neteyams siblings. And even there you didn’t spend that much time with them seeing how much trouble they liked to get into. You didn’t want to risk upsetting your mate.

You would admit that you were lonely however. When you weren’t needed in the village you spent your time exploring the never ending forest that was your home. You weren’t raised in one so you were always venturing out and exploring.

Today however due to your more than usual sadness, what with it being your anniversary and all you had walked further than you intended.

You paused your steps hearing several voices up ahead, what were Navi doing all the way out here?

You slowly crept closer to the sounds but made sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

Your eyes widened when you caught sight of the Navi- no Avatars that were clad in military gear and holding AR’s.

You carefully moved backwards until you were out of earshot.

You knew you had to tell your mate. They were clearly dangerous.

You felt for the weird contraption around your neck, you never had to use it before. You pressed down on it,

“N-neteyam?” You spoke shakily.

A few seconds passed before you heard a click. “Y/n…? Is that you?”

You could hear the slight confusion in his voice. At least he recognized you.

“Y-yes um, I’m out in the forest and there’s these Avatars… but they don’t look normal, they are dressed in camo and are holding AR’s…”

“What’s you pos?”

“W-what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Your position, where are you right now?” He spoke a bit more sternly.

“I’m-“

Wait where were you?

“Y/n?”

“I’m not sure but they were standing in front of an old worn down building..like a shack… something from the sky people I think..”

You could hear an intake of breath, “Y/n listen to me carefully, you’re going to get out of there without making a sound ok? Get back here immediately.”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “ok I’m coming” you released the button and started to run as quietly as you could back the way you came.

Adrenaline coursed through you, you looked back several times to ensure you weren’t being followed.

You stopped to catch your breath, hopefully this was far enough-

“Ah!” You cried out falling backwards seeing a fresh bullet lodged in the now smoking tree beside you.

You quickly regained your footing and started barreling forward.

A round of explosive pops rang from behind you, debris grazing your back.

Oh Great Mother help me!

You cried out as another bullet whizzed right by your ear causing you to lose balance.

You heard shouts but they spoke in a language unknown to you.

You moved to get up when suddenly your queue was yanked back forcefully.

You hissed at your abuser, but he only smiled. Again he spoke in a language you didn’t understand.

“L-Let me go!” You tried clawing at his hand but he only yanked harder causing your vision to go white in seering pain.

Was he going to kill you? You wish you could at least understand what he was shouting at you.

He used your queue to turn you harshly around. You hissed again now able to fully see your attacker.

He only rolled his eyes said something that again failed your understanding and swiftly backhanded you into the dirt.

While you lay on the ground in pain he held a hand to his ear saying something into his comm.

You had to do something, he was going to kill you or take you back to the others…

Your eyes perked up seeing something glinting strapped to his boot.

You figured it was best to attack while he was distracted…

I guess it’s now or never,

You swiftly grabbed the knife and plunged it into his stomach.

“Gah! You bitch!”

You didn’t stick around to see his reaction, you were already darting away. You heard the cocking of his gun and immediately started weaving through trees.

*POP* *POP* *POP*

It was a miracle you avoided all the bullets.

You made the mistake of looking back for a split second and found yourself tumbling over a root.

You gasped and tried to right yourself but he was already there pointing his gun.

Your eyes met his murderous ones and you knew this was it.

You let out one more frightened hiss and watched his finger start to pull.

*POP POP*

You couldn’t help the cry that left your mouth but- why weren’t you in pain?

“Y/N move!” Suddenly an arm was yanking you up onto your feet.

“N-neteyam!?” You couldn’t believe your eyes. He was about to speak when moments later more gunshots rang out. You gasped seeing more avatars emerging from the trees.

“Neteyam get her out of here! Move!” Jake jumped in front of you both and motioned for you to run. A few Navi warriors aiding him shooting their own weapons.

Neteyam pulled you through the trees at record speed, he quickly pulled you onto his Ikran before mounting it himself behind you and flying away. His eyes scanning the trees to make sure no one was aiming anything at them.

“Are you injured?” He asked in that raw tone he used in the middle of battle. Serious and to the point.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice not to crack. That was the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him.

He sighed before adjusting his reins. His silence was like poison. Slowly seeping into you making you feel ten times worse then when you were just under that guys gun.

You were breathing heavily when he landed the ikran on the mountain ledge.

He dismounted first then held out his hand, you let him help you down thanking Eywa that your legs didn’t give out on you in front of the entire village who were currently staring.

“Neteyam!” Tuk ran up and hugged your mate tightly.

The silly siblings all ran up to you guys asking what happened.

“Are you hurt sister?” Kiri eyed you up and down wearily.

“I’m alright, don’t worry…”

“Y/n!” Tuk was quick to switch to you and you embraced her warmly wanting to ease the fear on her face.

“Everyone is alright Tuk, please don’t cry…” you stroked her back calming her down, or maybe you were using her as a buffer.

You hesitantly glanced up to where Neteyam was speaking to his mother. He looked pissed. Neytiris eyes met your worried ones for a split second, softening slightly before turning back to her son. Her eyes widened in some sort of threat before sighing and coming to you.

“Are you alright daughter?” She placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m alright…I’m sorry for all of this I-“ she shushed you quickly.

“Don’t, it’s alright, everyone is alright…” you sighed and nodded to her thankful that she wasn’t upset with you for putting her family in danger.

“Y/n” you sucked in a breath and met your mates eyes. You wanted to let out a whimper at the anger they held.

He motioned for you to follow him. Every step felt like someone had placed a stone in your heart.

He pulled aside the flap of your tent and looked forward waiting for you to enter.

With shakey breaths you ducked under and stepped into your home.

Your fingers pulling at your netted covering as a nervous distraction.

You had seen Neteyam angry countless times before, at warriors who disobeyed orders. At his brother for causing trouble, at anyone who seriously stepped out of line.

You shivered in place now that for the first time that anger was directed at you.

He yanked the flap back down and rounded on you.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” His eyes shooting daggers through you.

“I-I I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

“Do you know how much danger you’ve put everyone in?! They could’ve followed you back to our village and done who knows what!”

“I never would have-“

“What were you thinking wandering around there!? That areas off limits for a reason!”

“I didn’t know- Neteyam I-!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear your excuses.” You felt the tears running down your cheeks and it seemed to trigger Neteyam to at least bring his anger down a notch.

He turned around letting out a sigh,

He hated you, that was evident now. He may have hidden his distaste before but now that you had finally angered him his true colors showed.

It only made your tears come faster. The adrenaline finally wearing off, you realized just how scared you had been. Your body ached, craving nothing more than to curl up and rest.

Not to mention an annoying pinching feeling on your abdomen that was getting increasingly more painful. Like a sting from a beertus beetle.

You ignored it focusing on the man before you.

He held a hand up to his neck, you could hear his father speaking on the other side.

They talked for a minute, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you heard that everyone was alright.

Neteyam ended the line and his head turned towards you. He seemed a bit calmer now that he knew everyone was ok.

Your eyes couldn’t handle his glare at the moment so instead they landed on the mat beneath you.

It was quiet for several moments, the air thick with tension.

“You are never to go there or anywhere near that area again understood?” He spoke to you like you were one of his soldiers.

“Understood…” your voice was hoarse but at least it didn’t break.

He nodded before turning to leave and meet with his father to discuss this new threat.

Your heard his footsteps start to fade which meant he was going to leave. Of course he would. Why would he want to stay with someone like you?

Your eyes were still glued to the mat. A beautifully woven mat that was a gift from your Mother in law. It was dyed in beautiful colors.

Huh? Did something spill on it? Your eyebrows furrowed seeing red droplets. Hopefully that wouldn’t stain.. was it juice? You hoped it-

Another drop, forming right before your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, frowning when you didn’t see anything. Then something clicked and you moved your netted cover to the side, you expected to see a cut or deep scrape from your falls. But you felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on you when you saw it.

Why Great mother? Why were you testing me like this?

You let out a distressed whimper. Your eyes shot to the entrance where your mate had just stepped out of seconds before. You could still hear his footsteps.

You could call to him. He would hear you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.. your mate already hated you. You would not tell him this and make him even angrier.

You would not tell him you had been shot…

****************************************************

You cursed realizing quickly that that was probably the dumbest mistake you had made. Because moments later you were too dizzy to stand and were sprawled out onto the floor clutching your side.

How could you get help now? Was this how you were going to die? It certainly looked like it..

You thought of your mate. He hated you, maybe it was…. You whimpered at your next thought.

Maybe this was for the better. He would find a new mate and be happy.

Yeah, you could do this for him… why should such a good person be miserable..?

But wait… would this damage his reputation? That he let sky people kill his mate?

Was this actually going to hurt him?

A Navi males reputation was everything. If he couldn’t protect his family who would trust him to protect the people.

No, you couldn’t be selfish. If you died, he would suffer in his position.

For the second time ever you reached up to your neck, fingers slippery from the blood.

“N-neteyam…” was that your voice? It sounded so different…

Would he even answer? He probably thought you were trying to make excuses for what happened. You tried calling out a few more times.

You felt your heart sink at the silence, it looked like he had shut the line off.

As your vision began to blur at the edges you realized that it looked like his reputation was going to suffer after all.

Even though you knew he wasn’t listening you held the button down once more, one final time…

“I’m s-sorry Neteyam.. I really tried to be a w-worthy m-mate.. I’m sorry I couldn’t do b-better mmh, p-pl.. please tell the p-people it was m-my fault not yours…I… I really did love you N-Neteyam, I-i h-hope your next mate will make you happy-“

Your fingers slipped from exhaustion and your vision failed you completely.

Goodbye my Neteyam…

****************************************************

Neteyam had never moved so fast in all his life.…

Part 2 up now!

Ooooh a cliffhanger hehehe, also is anyone actually reading this? Should I do a part 2👀❤️

[alexthebordercollie]

Ford's autism

K so I don't think I need to defend the interpretation Ford is on the spectrum. People make jokes about him being autistic all the time. We all see it. What I want to do here is sort of connect together some character details and examine them through the lense of my own autistic experiences.

I wanna start with his hands. It's an observation I've seen from multiple people that Ford is insecure about his hands and often hides them behind his back or in his pockets. And yeah, he is obviously insecure about them. He even mentions his six fingers at times when they aren't really relevant to anything. It just showcases the space this physical deviation of his takes up in his mind. And yes, it makes sense that he's insecure about them because he was bullied for them growing up. I want to add to this observation.

Ford would have been bullied regardless.

The problem was never really his hands. When you're on the spectrum people around you can tell that you're weird. Uncanny. Something is different and feels wrong about you to NT people, especially kids. They will pick any shallow superficial thing they can find as an excuse to bully you and justify the sense of revulsion they feel around you but can't articulate. If Ford had been born with normal hands they just would have made fun of him for something else, it would have been his glasses, or the movies he liked, or hell maybe some good old-fashioned antisemitism. Literally, any excuse they could find.

I know growing up I tried for years to change the things about me that I was made fun of for and it never made things any better. The bullying never stopped. "Fixing" things about myself didn't work because the thing that was actually "broken" was something fundamental to who I am. That realization as a kid was soul-crushing. That there was nothing I could do that would ever make me "normal", that would ever make people like me. I felt like an alien born on the wrong planet.

Ford continues to latch onto his hands as a sore spot because they're something simple and obvious he can point to as an excuse for why he's so outcast. He probably knows by this point that the hands aren't actually the problem. I'd argue this journal entry and his comment about "another failed social interaction" shows that he's aware his hands aren't actually the problem. But, it is a lot easier to fixate on those than to dwell directly on that sinking feeling that at the core of you're being you are fundamentally weird, wrong, unlovable. Ford's a genius. If his polydactyly bothered him that much he could have removed the extra digits. The hands aren't the problem, they're a symbol of a more fundamental kind of pain.

Looking at it through this context also makes the gloves Fiddleford gives him an extra sweet gift given what they represent. A kind of wholehearted acceptance of who Ford is and even a willingness to adapt to his unique needs just to show him love and affection. I think something that hurts me so much about their relationship is that Ford had someone who very clearly loved him as is and would have never wanted him to be someone or something else, and Ford was too stubborn to fully appreciate that.

The same is true of Stanely by the by. He never had a problem with his brother being weird. Another relationship with someone who loved Ford as is but who Ford took for granted. He needs these kinds of relationships in his life. People who embrace and accept him for the weirdo he is. He needs them desperately, which gets me to my next point.

Ford's ego. So it's also a common observation that Ford has a massive ego. He's kind of an ass, to put it mildly. But I have had someone in conversation frame it like the pressure to prove themselves was just on Stanley and Ford just spent his whole life being hyped up and told he was hot shit. This isn't true, or at least it's a flattening of his experiences.

Ford was praised for his genius. This is true. But his own father only gave a shit when said genius showed signs of netting material gains for the family. It only mattered cause Ford could be useful. Furthermore, this genius never netted him social acceptance from his peers growing up. He was still a bullied, weirdo, loser most of his childhood. Add that seeing Stanley kicked out would have drilled into Ford's head that if he couldn't make something out of himself his family wouldn't want him either. Stan was an unspoken threat of what this family does to failures.

Gonna bring up my own personal experiences again. Having set the stage for how it feels growing up on the spectrum. That feeling of alienness that you can't really explain. I loved to write and draw from a very young age. Moreover, as I got older I realized that when I drew, people were nice to me. The only time I got social acceptance was when people were admiring or praising me for my art. So I did it more and more, I devoted myself feverishly to my art. I loved it anyway and would have hyper-fixated on it regardless but the positive reinforcement turned art from something I loved to a need. I NEEDED to be an artist. I needed to be the best at my school. I needed all eyes on my work because it was the only way I could make friends. The only way I could prove that I had value. That I deserved a place in society.

I see that in Ford. I see his ego not as shallow narcissism but as an overwhelming need to prove his value as a person. To be loved and accepted and believing that no one will want him if he isn't brilliant. If he doesn't change the world. If he isn't useful. This is also why he couldn't bring himself to destroy his research even knowing it was the safest and most responsible option. Burning down everything he worked for would mean finally giving up on the fantasy of ever being accepted or valuable.

The sad thing is he's so single-mindedly fixated on this personal goal of proving his worth to the world that when people do come along that love him unconditionally he takes them for granted. These people are statistical anomalies in his life. Nice to have around, but not enough to fix the bigger problem. They aren't reflective of society at large. They aren't enough to prove that he, personally, is loveable. Just that on occasion he meets another weirdo. For a while it's nice. Like a campfire in a barren tundra. But he has to keep moving, he can't stay. Warmer lands are ahead if he can just get to them. If he can just keep moving.

This also is why Ford was so susceptible to Bill. Bill told Ford what he wanted to hear. That he was destined for greatness. That, the fundamental wrongness he felt all his life was something incredible other people just couldn't see. Bill promised Ford exactly what he wanted, but not what he actually needed. Ford never needed the world at large to accept him. He just needed a few good people.

I also think his chemistry with Bill was connected to his autistic experiences as well. Bill is literally an alien. There's no pressure to mask around him. To try and "act normal". Ford can just be himself with Bill and not have to think about it. And sure, he could be himself around Fiddleford, but Fidds is still human. The anxieties of human social expectations are still present. Like when Fidds get him a gift for the holidays and Ford feels a bit guilty that it didn't even occur to him to do the same. He doesn't have to think about these social nuances with Bill.

That said I'm sure Bill isn't what his world would have considered neurotypical anyway. Not that Ford would know that. But Bill was also a strange freak in his own society. Just as outcast, possibly more so. I think Bill sees a bit of his own experiences reflected in Ford. I think he relates to him on a level. Not that he would ever admit it outright due to his own ego. I think Bill's fixation on him after the breakup also stems from Ford rejecting the path that Bill chose for himself. Bill still lives with some sort of deeply repressed guilt for what he did. Imagine how validating it would have been to see someone else like him burn their own world to the ground for the same reasons Bill did. But no, Ford's a better man than him, and Bill can't stand it.

Ok, I don't know how to end this long-ass monologue so I'm gonna call it here I guess. I just wanted to spill some thoughts of mine about Ford as a character. If anyone else wants to add to this with other examinations of Ford's character through this lense go right ahead. I'm just saying as an autistic person myself I understand every choice Ford made. I could relate to why he did the things he did even if I know those were mistakes and even acknowledging that he's kind of an asshole. Ford is a strange man who makes an eerie amount of sense to me.

[xoxo-sarah]

Red

↝a/n: I didn't quite execute this though the way I wanted to :// reader is in the band with Eddie.

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: slight innuendo ?, not proofread , Steve is down bad ngl

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.28.24

"C'mon, man." Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie's pleading, honestly tired of hearing the man's voice. It was the same question every Friday. "It'll be fun, I promise, man." Eddie glanced at his band setting up in the garage, Steve's eyes following. You stood in front of the drums, your legs blocking the words "Corroded Coffin" made out of tape on the bass drum. You pushed your hair out of your face, placing some of the teased hair behind your pierced ear. "You need to loosen up, bud."

Steve eyes traced your figure, the way the white tank top hugged your curves. Bright red could be seen through the thin fabric. He hasn't talked to you much, but he couldn't help his eyes lingering every time you were around. He wanted to talk to you. He just never got around to it. Maybe he was intimidated. Eddie would say so.

Eddie could pinpoint when Steve had taken an interest in you. It was the second you met. Eddie had introduced you as "Red". The nickname settled on Steve's tongue, tingling like poprocks. You had been nicknamed that because you always has to have some sort of red on. If the outfit is all black, there's a red bracelet or earrings. You had a pair of red converse that you wore all of the time. Steve took notice of how warn out they were getting, feeling the urge to buy a new pair for you.

Eddie patted Steve shoulder, getting his attention back.

Steve reluctantly agreed. He tried to get Robin to go with him, so he wouldn't have to suffer alone. But she always found an excuse. He silently cursed her under his breath as bodies pressed against his in the small bar. He tried to make it to the backstage, looking for Eddie, the person who got him into this mess. Just as he got to the stage, the lights went dark. many of the drunk people continued to talk amongst themselves as the band came on stage.

Steve's mouth fell agape at your stage presence. Eddie watched as Steve watched you walk around the stage, captivating everyone's attention just by your voice.

Steve couldn't help but watch your every move. The rest of the band were tuned out from his mind; you and only you clouding his mind.

You went from banging your head back and forth with the music, to standing walking around the stage, eyes with a hazed look.

You eventually got so into the song that your hand roams your body, pulling up the black tank top, showing everyone the red, lacy bra. Steve swears he felt his breath hitch. He could practically feel the fabric against his fingertips.

As the song reached its climax, Steve felt his heart race in sync with the pounding drums. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by your energy and confidence. The way you commanded the stage was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Days after, Steve makes his way to the house where the band practices, standing around awkwardly. The guys look at him, amused. "Here to see Red?" Eddie chuckled, yanking the guitar pick out from his amused lips. Steve ignored the looks from the group around him. He wasn't here to be judged, he simply wanted to see you- he needed to see you.

"Where is she?"

Eddie nodded towards the door that connected from the garage to the house. As if on cue, you opened the door, stepping out in an all black outfit. It was more comfortable than what you wore at the show, not as snug on your figure. Your face was bare of the dramatic make-up from a few nights ago. Steve couldn't tell which look he liked more.

He couldn't help the way his mind went to what exactly you wore that was red. Was it the same bra? You didn't seem to have anything else that was visible. Your earrings are small, little silver moon crescents, no necklace decorating your neck.

"Harrington." You acknowledged, before handing out the cans of soda.

"Red," the nickname fell from his lips like he had been the one to make it up. It felt natural spilling from his mouth. "Can I, uh, can I talk to you?"

You looked up, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on you, anticipating your next move. "Sure." You threw the last can of soda through the air, having Eddie curse you as he caught it.

Steve felt a rush of excitement as you agreed to talk. The way you tossed that can to Eddie was so effortlessly cool, and he couldn't help but admire you even more.

You walked further down the pavement, leading away from the open garage. Steve stuck his hands in his front pockets, mind whirling.

"I saw you at the show the other night." Metal and Rock music wasn't something Steve usually listened to, but that might very well change.

Steve quickly nodded, hoping his face wasn't as red as your bra had been. "Yeah, Eddie forced me to go. I can't hate him for it, I had fun."

You smiled, biting your bottom lip lightly, "That's good. You should come to the next one."

"I'll think about it." God, of course he'll be there. Will he be paying attention to the words and music? No. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

You raised your brows, encouraging him to continue.

"Uh," suddenly, the concrete under his shoes was interesting. "I was wondering if you're free this Friday."

Your mouth opened, eyes searching his shy ones. "We actually have a show."

"Oh, yeah. Okay," He nodded, trying to play it off.

"But," you stepped forward, "I'm free after the show. Maybe you should come watch and we can go somewhere after."

Steve's face lit up, his heart racing as he processed your words. Relief washed over him, mingling with a surge of excitement. He couldn't believe his luck. "Yeah, I'd like that," he managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady. He admired how your face looked with no crazy eyeshadow and lipstick to distract from the color of your eyes. The natural pink of your lips captivated him. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.

You smiled, standing on your toes to bring your face closer to his. Your lips plants a quick peck on his crimson cheek.

As he walked away, his mind was a blur of thoughts about Friday. The anticipation of spending more time with you made his heart feel light, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. The concrete under his feet didn't seem so interesting anymore; all he could think about was you and the possibilities of what might happen after the show. God, he hoped you wore that red, lacy bra again.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Liquid Courage introduced me to your work and I love the way you write so I thought I should trust you with a request of mine:)

Law x reader; in one point in time one of them subtly confessed but the feeling seemed to be unrequited They both are pining for each other, both have a sweet spot for each other and a connection beyond friendship but both just turn a blind eye to it/not think too much about it. One night after drinking a bit much Law(or reader) starts getting a little touchy but not in a sexual way. (ex. they are sitting next to each other and he slowly hooks his pinky with hers) The touches convey untold truths that are still felt the next morning. After that the touches and the longing stares continue until one of them breakes by the intensity of the moment and decide to confront the other.

I will leave the fate (and the nature) of said moment up to you. Thank you in advance for considering it! Cant wait to read more of your work<3

ps if it helps you in any way in my mind this is kinda angsty. I love angst+possessiveness but I don’t mind how it will come out for you! Really I don’t t mind if you switch up the whole scenario… whatever works for you

If you’re inspired by music, these two play in my mind: All i need- Radiohead + Just pretend- Bad Omens

DESCRIPTION: You’re both silently in love and finally decide to confront your feelings

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, brief angst at fear of unrequited feelings, mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,591

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope I was able to create something that matched what you were looking for and that it's to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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From the day you joined the crew Law knew you were someone different. You had a presence he relaxed around a lot faster than others he’d encountered in his travels. You managed to gain his trust and proved yourself a capable and crucial member of the team and situated into the crew to the point no one could really remember a time before you. It felt effortless to be around you and Law counted you amongst one of his most trusted and closest friends. And for the longest time friends was all he considered you to be. Whether through a mix of sheer obliviousness and professional refusal to indulge his feelings any further than that. The line was clearly established that you two were just friends. 

However the heart wants what it wants and emotion is very separate to logic. Despite you both maintaining a friendship as deep as they came, your bodies still sought each other out. When it came to chores you were always close by. If not side by side you where always in the same room. When he was working on medical tasks you were his second, working in silent tandem with your own set rhythm that no others could match if they tried. While it annoyed the crew to no end why nothing deeper ever happened between you both, they decided to say nothing out of fear that if they did point out the obvious connection then that flow and peace between you both would shatter and be destroyed. 

One evening the entire crew were in the communal area celebrating Bepo’s birthday with a lot of drink and laughter. You called it quits after a round of a drinking game was finished and moved cautiously to the closest sofa for safety, knowing that you were less than graceful when you’d been drinking and the last thing you wanted was to injure yourself and disrupt the festivities. Law smiled down at you as you slumped into the space beside him, resting your head lazily on his shoulder. While he hadn’t been actively playing with the game he had been steadily drinking and was at the same level you were. “Sure you didn’t want to play to the end?” He asked curiously.

“Nah, another round and I’d have been passed out.” You mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. A slow content smile spreading across your lips when Law also moved to accommodate you, his hand curving around your waist so you slotted better against him. Neither of you paying much mind to the position from both the alcohol in your systems and the natural feeling that overcame you both to be seated like this. As you both continued to watch and laugh at the antics of the crew who were still conscious and playing their game, your hand rested over his, your fingers absently looping around his. 

Occasionally through the remainder of the night Law would subconsciously play with your fingers that were looped through his, he only became aware that he was doing it when it was finally time to go to bed. When your hands parted and you reluctantly shifted your weight off of him to stand you both became acutely aware of the lingering sensation of each other’s warmth and touch still clinging to your skin. The walk to your own room was a hazy blink but as you settled into your bed, you couldn’t help but touch your hand, doing all you could to memorise the feeling of his touch as you fell asleep. 

The next morning you woke feeling a strange kind of weight on your shoulders and mind that had nothing to do with all that you’d drank the previous night. It was a good thing you knew your limits with alcohol so you could wake relatively hangover free, still a little stiff and dehydrated but nothing that would leave you bedridden all day. No this feeling was the awareness of how you felt with Law and being in his presence brought you. The more you thought about it the more you saw that you’d felt this way for the longest time, you just hadn’t truly brought it to the forefront of your attention before. 

You got out of bed and readied yourself for a new day, grateful that it would be a day of minimal tasks and filled with a lot of free time given how heavily the crew had been drinking for Bepo’s

birthday which meant you had the time to organise your feelings and adequately deal with things between you and your Captain. You were also grateful that the abundance of hungover crew meant you would have extra privacy in case things weren’t resolved amicably. You walked down the corridor and stopped outside of Law’s office. Regardless of the previous night’s party he was always here first thing in the morning without fail. As always you knocked once out of courtesy and entered, closing the door firmly behind you. When you met his gaze you felt yourself freeze. You could see the realisation and hesitation you were feeling mirrored in his eyes. As comforting as that should have been you still couldn’t bring yourself to move closer or speak. 

“About last night.” “We should talk.” You both spoke in unison, a hurried mess coming from both of your mouths as opposed to your usual calm and relaxed way of speaking around the other. You fidgeted where you stood and gestured for him to speak first while clearing your throat. Law watched you carefully and let out a long sigh, noting how tense you stood and how you kept looking into his eyes and dropping your gaze again only to repeat the action less than a second later. Were you only trying to maintain eye-contact with him out of respect but failed to do so because of shame? Was it regret? He knew how he felt but the last thing he wanted was to force something on you. “Last night I overstepped the mark. Yes we’d been drinking but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh…” You were taken by surprise by his somewhat stilted declaration. Had you misread things? You hadn’t thought so. Now you were even more confused and found disappointment spinning in your stomach, the feeling only furthering your awareness that you had genuine feelings for Law. You weren’t known to be insubordinate but today you felt like pushing things because his statement truly didn’t seem like the man you thought you knew. “Captain, you held my hand and I returned the gesture. That’s not overstepping the mark. That’s barely walking in the mark’s direction… Do you regret doing it?” As you spoke you couldn’t help but run your thumb over your fingers that had been in his hold mere hours ago. “Because I don’t.”

“Regardless…It’s unwise to further this topic.” Law tried to sound firm but he was honestly thrown, he hadn’t been expecting you to feel the same as he did but he’d spent all last night and this morning trying to convince himself his feelings were one-sided and that it was fine that way because he shouldn’t pursue a relationship with a member of his crew. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up and at the same time he was also one to deny himself of something that made him happy to prevent the pain of losing it in the future. “We would be better to leave things as they are before they escalate.”

“Does that mean you want things to escalate?” You asked coyly finally taking a step towards the desk he sat at. 

“It wouldn’t be right for me to start something with my subordinate.” Law offered the argument, not able to give much weight to his words as he openly watched you approach, giving no inclination for you to stop or to leave. You both knew that had he wanted you out of his presence he would have either ordered you away or used his Devil Fruit to accomplish the task himself. 

“Captain, we’re pirates. What’s right and wrong and rules don’t exactly apply to us. Do they?” You asked simply, keeping the desk separating you both to allow him his personal space as you smiled at him. “All that matters is what we want. I’ve been honest, will you be honest with me, Captain?”  

Law stood and braced his hands on the desk, beginning to close the distance between you both. You’d made convincing points and deep down he hadn’t wanted to find a way to argue against them, not when it came to you and the feelings he’d finally accepted to himself that had been there for a very long time. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, offering you one final chance to take it back because he knew once this started he wasn’t going to let you go. Your answer was a simple one, you leant in with a smile and curled your fingers around his that were braced against the surface of the desk. The wordless but deep connection you had with each other was reestablished and cemented even further as you leant in, able to share a soft and tender kiss with your Captain. However the moment couldn’t be savoured for long because within seconds the chorus of calls echoed through the Polar Tang as the rest of the crew had awoken and were suffering their hangovers and calling for their Captain to help them cure it.

[brighteuphony]

I LOVE your Sakura AU, thank you so much for making it 🥹

Even though her ending is supposed to be “good”, I always thought that canon didn’t do her justice and threw any character development she had out of the window so she can be with Sasuke

I SO wanted her to finally move on and just let go

And I don’t have anything against Sasusaku

But I think it’d be much more beautiful if Sakura long let go of her feelings by the time Sasuke came to his senses and they developed their relationship TOGETHER from the START

And, once again, your work is AMAZING and I can’t wait for next pieces ❤️

Btw, can I ask a question?) Will we see Naruto’s and Sasuke’s reaction to her condition (maybe flashback to before she left the village?), if not, can you please tell me a bit about it? I can’t imagine them to ignore her after the incident, especially considering that they are at fault as usual

Thank you so much for the kind words! I've also never been a fan of how Sakura ended up. I have no beef with SasuSaku, but my biggest issue was that we never saw Sasuke try to make up/connect with Sakura in the same way we saw him do with Naruto, so their romance in Boruto just felt so...abrupt?

As for what happens to Sakura and her friends....

Sasuke was essentially put on probation/jailed, but broke out and defected to Otogakure as canon. This devastates Sakura, as she's both in deep denial about his contribution to her injuries and also the fact that she basically threw herself in there for nothing. Kakashi shuts down completely. It's a nightmare replay of his own past, including the female team-mate being horrifically injured by the chidori. The guilt of everything is eating him alive so he basically withdraws into himself and uses her demotion to civilian status as a way to trick himself into thinking that if he just 'rips off the bandaid' and cut ties, she'll be able to move on more easily.

Naruto is the only person who is really able/willing to face justice. After the incident, he was basically also put on probation/awaiting trial but busted himself out to join Jiraya.

So for context, Sakura got clapped hard by the Rasengan/Chidori combo (hearing gone, nerve damage, eyes shot etc) and basically had to be put in a coma to try and stop the damage from getting worse, but unfortunately none of the medics in Konoha had the ability to reverse anything but the most superficial damage. So Naruto joined Jiraya in an attempt to find and bring the only person in the world who could give Sakura a sliver of hope.

I felt like this worked well with canon and the desperation to get Tsunade to be hokage and Naruto basically begged her on his hands and knees to help Sakura. Tsunade made it there in the nick of time managed to save everything but her eyes.

But Sakura's life has fallen apart, her career is over, her parents dead from Konoha Crush and her eyes gone...and Naruto is the most convenient and available person to take out all her rage on, so...while he deserves a lot of that rage..she is essentially punching down on who she perceives to be the cause of all her problems.

Lee is in the same boat as her, but while he tries very hard to be there for her, Sakura can't stand to be with him right now, as it just makes the reality of life hit that much worse- especially when she finds out there's a surgery that might give him a better chance than she'll ever have.

And Ino visits often at first, but then it's awkward...and painful as the weeks go by. They have lunch and gossip but at some point, there's not much a shinobi and civilian have in common, especially after the shortage of manpower post Konoha-crush has Ino entrenched in the shinobi life more than ever before.

I hope this answered some stuff! Thank you so much for the questions and the interest! I love Sakura and I just wanna give her the development and power she deserves!!

[frvnkcastles]

LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After Frank saves your life, you’re there for him through thick and thin.

Warnings: Violence, language, feminine nicknames, implied smut, mentions of death, reader is a teacher, reader wears glasses

Word count: 5.6k (wow)

Author’s note: Omggg y’all, I dug this up from my Pages app, it’s literally almost 3 years old and that’s why I’m a little nervous to post it but I thought it might actually be some of my best writing, so here we go :) It takes place through Daredevil season 2 all the way to the end of The Punisher Season 1, and I have to admit, I honestly feel like Frank was NOT ready for any kind of love interest during Daredevil but I took some creative liberties, anyway. So this is a little out of character on that front. I’m rambling, I hope you enjoy!! I’m gonna get back to your requests soon <3

Frank felt like somehow days passed by in a flurry yet every second dragged on like the worst torture he had endured — which was saying a lot considering the literal war he had gone through, and the fact he was currently lying in a hospital bed; broken, bruised and with a drilling hole in his foot. And yet waiting to see you was the one thing that got his confidence to falter, his brain to shortcircuit.

For a man so stubborn and determined to do things on his own, he had crumbled so fast when presented with the opportunity to see you again. He hadn’t even realized he had ended up caring about you so deeply, not until the blonde journalist had stepped into his room and the words just poured out of him.

”Would ya do me a favour?” Frank asked as the woman was leaving the room, his gruff voice so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable, and therefore capable of turning her head immediately. ”Please”, he added weakly, ”my girl… I—there’s someone I need to see. Just once. Please.”

Maybe she was curious about meeting the one person who seemed to mean anything to The Punisher anymore; maybe she felt surprisingly bad for him or maybe it was both, but Karen found herself doing as he asked and tracked you down. She reached out and a few days later… you were walking down the hallways of the hospital, uncomfortably shifting the weight of your leather jacket from one arm to the other, your stomach churning in nervous anticipation.

The sight of several armed guards standing outside the room you were being walked to made you gulp, but you weren’t scared of the man inside. You were scared to see the kind of condition he was in, to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, scared of the moment you’d have to walk out in the uncertainty if you’d ever see him again. But not him. Never him.

Something in Frank came to life when you appeared at the doorway; something he thought to be long dead and buried only for you to always revive him. He lifted his head from the worn pillows and sighed in some kind of relief, only for guilt to lodge into his heart when he saw you scanning his body.

He looked awful, no way around it. Littered in bruises so severe you could barely see his face, you struggled not to cry while looking at the multiple machines connected to him and the abundance of bandages on his tired limbs. What really got to you, though, was the handcuffs on his wrists and the straps across his chest and stomach to make sure there was no room for him to move any more than necessary to sit up and lie back down.

”Jesus…”, you sighed breathlessly, your hands beginning to shake as you walked over to him with a frown so deep it hurt his heart. He knew he might have been a selfish asshole for dragging you here, for making you see what he had tried to protect you from this whole time, for letting you get attached right before it would all go to shit, anyway. But he wasn’t strong enough to push you away. He was capable of enduring much, but he was weak when it came to you. He had tried it, at first, keeping you at arm’s length but you got under his skin in a way that was irreversible and it hurt more to resist than it did to give in. For him, anyway.

”Looks worse than it is, sweetheart”, he rasped, and with a scoff, you finally met his eyes only for the depth of them to catch you off-guard and make you choke on your own tongue. He looked just as attentive and kind as the day you had met him — you swore you’d never forget the way he had hid you behind the counter of the diner, looked right into your eyes and promised he’d make sure you’d make it to class tomorrow; what would the kids do without their teacher, after all?

”They said your foot was… that there was a…”, you stammered, hoping to counter his words with an argument that failed as soon as you tried to get it out. He had never judged you for your tendency to stutter, though, and he didn’t do it now, either. Simply nodded and let you process.

”Yeah. Yeah, there was”, he admitted quietly, licking his split lips as he watched you move to the chair next to his bed and slowly sink down. Even with all the pain in your eyes, you looked so beautiful in one of your worn band shirts and the skirt you had promptly tucked it into, your glasses heavy on your nose and the shimmer of your lipbalm like a red thread for Frank to hang onto like his life depended on it. Amidst all the chaos and ache of his recent weeks, he could just close his eyes and think back to you, and somehow he felt at peace. At least for a second.

”I wish I could… make it all better”, you whispered sadly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his bruised cheekbones.

Frank’s hand reached for yours only for the handcuffs to stop him, the noise of the movement alerting the guard outside the door and pulling a swear from Frank. When he settled his hand back by his side, the guard seemed to relax a little, making both of you sigh — the man wasn’t even allowed to hold your hand.

”Oh, sweetheart”, Frank whispered, ”that’s exactly what you do. You make all this shit better.” He managed a small smile as he tilted his head at you. ”I may just make it worse, but you? Christ, you…”, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, keeping you on your toes as he finally decided against it, ”I’preciate you comin’. I just, uh, I guess I wanted to see you before I get dragged into a courtroom and… yeah. Yeah, there’s no happy ending for me. But for a moment there, you helped me believe there might be”, he went on, only breaking your heart with each word.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly. ”You don’t give yourself enough credit, Frankie. You’ve really made things better for me, too. And you deserve a happy ending, however that might look for you”, you swore, casting your eyes at your trembling hands. ”I know it might be weird to say, but I’m grateful I met you. Life-threatening danger and all. You and everyone else may not see it the same way, but you are a good guy. You are”, you continued before sniffling and getting up from your chair enough to press a kiss on his forehead.

You were careful and gentle, unwilling to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. Yet when you moved to pull away, Frank grunted and reached for your wrist, stopping you from leaving. For a moment, you were forehead to forehead, your lips inches away and his breath mixing with yours.

”Sit with me for a bit? Yeah?” Frank pleaded, and when you nodded, he swallowed and smiled weakly. ”That’s my girl.”

He didn’t see you again until the trial. He spotted you right there in the benches, dressed in your finest red shirt that had his thoughts running a million miles while being walked to the stand. He was dressed in a suit, too, and he almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought of a date swirling in his head. Maybe, in another lifetime, that could have been reality — not him being on trial for murder with you trying to tune out the hate speech spewed at him from the other half of the courtroom.

Most of his bruises had healed by then. You found small comfort in that.

You didn’t get to tell him he looked good, though. You didn’t get to say a single thing when he was announcing his guilt with a booming roar, and the next thing you knew, he was being walked out of the courtroom with a prison sentence looming over his head. You didn’t blame him for doing what he did, and you certainly didn’t expect him to choose you over his morals. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help but cry as he was taken out of sight and you were left with the realization you may never see him again.

You were sitting outside on the steps of the courthouse when a strange hand extended a tissue for you. Just as you looked up, nearly blinded by the sunshine, you were glad you hadn’t said your thought out loud when you saw Frank’s lawyer poke his cane at the steps until he figured where to sit. He lowered himself next to you just as you took the tissue and thanked him for his kindness.

”You’re the woman”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you turned to him in confusion, he chuckled quietly. ”I recognize your perfume. It… stuck to him”, he explained — even if his explanation remained vague — but you had no time to present any further questions when he continued. ”Frank Castle is not a talkative man. But I’ve noticed whenever he does speak, his words carry meaning. He doesn’t do small talk or state the obvious, he… he only shares what he considers important. And if that is the case, then… you are extremely important to him”, he elaborated before drawing in a deep breath and sending a small smile your way.

Your heart both broke and leaped at his words. You hadn’t exactly doubted it, but it meant a great deal to know Frank cherished you as much as you cherished him.

”And he is to me”, you returned quietly, pulling a slow nod from the man — Matt — who then turned his head at you curiously.

”If you don’t mind me asking… how does a teacher find herself with The Punisher?” he wondered, and considering it your turn to chuckle, you turned to your hands and recalled the night that had turned your life upside down.

”He saved my life. I know that’s how all the cliché fairytales go, but he did. I was at my favorite diner to get some grilled cheese after a long day of work. I was so close to making it, too, when these, uh, thugs came in. Looking for him, unsurprisingly. There was only one other person besides us and they managed to escape before the shooting began, so… Frank hid me behind the counter. He told me he’d keep me safe, that I’d get to see the kids I teach again the next day— he’d heard me talking to the cashier. He’d make sure of it. And he did. He took care of those guys and afterwards he walked me home. I—I owed him my life so I figured the least I could do was ice his knuckles. He must have been barely ten minutes in my apartment but it meant everything. We just… couldn’t get rid of each other after that”, you explained, the sunlight suddenly feeling warmer on your skin and the smile on your lips so free of worry. For a second, anyway.

Matt listened intently — not only to what you were saying, but you. And it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. ”You love him”, he declared, and with your head snapping towards him, you frowned.

”We haven’t—there’s nothing—”, you began, your stutter seeping through again, and Matt smiled.

”Whether or not you’ve acted on it, I can hear it. You’ve fallen in love with him”, he emphasized before humming, ”and I think, somewhere deep down underneath all that trauma and guilt and unwillingness to face the facts… he feels the same way.”

You stared at him, disbelief all over your face as you thought about Frank and all your brief touches, all your sweet words and reassuring looks.

”Could you tell him I’ll be right here? Please? Just… let him know that even if I can’t be by his side, he’s not alone”, you whispered, and although he seemed to consider it for a second, Matt ended up nodding.

”I’m sure he’s gonna need that.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Prison was no easy feat, not even for The Punisher.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to you. One moment he was sitting in court, listening to his vigilante of a lawyer speak on his behalf, and the next he was being dragged out in chains with your worried face amongst the angry civilians being the last thing he saw. And the big bad Punisher had gone so far as to beg Karen to let him see you for the second time; let you see him, but before she could even consider making it happen, he had been shoved into a white onesie and sent on his way to prison with his jagged memories trying hard to recall the last words you had spoken to him.

It had been something kind — that much he had decided on while sitting in his cell. You were always so fucking kind, and so understanding, even when he doubted he deserved it. You were a good person; a troubled one but you had weathered every storm and stuck to your morals, and he admired that to no end. You didn’t have a judgmental bone, not a single ounce of hatred for anyone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes not even those who did. He thought that maybe he was unworthy of your friendship and sympathy sometimes, but you gave it to him anyway, without question and without expectation. You liked him for who he was, not who he had been, and you didn’t try to change his mind and steer his path.

At least he had the message Red had passed onto him to keep him going.

It was those unexplainably good-hearted intentions of yours and the unconditional support he hadn’t realized he missed so much, that made him fall in love with you. He struggled with it for a while, wondering if he was ready; if he should have felt guilty, but eventually the desire to keep you safe and the longing to hold you close became too evident to ignore.

And he truly knew when one of the assholes he had put down had taunted him about his lady, only for his mind to go to you instead of Maria.

He had been writing a letter to you when his heart-pouring onto paper was interrupted by a taunting laugh outside his cell. ”Writing a love letter to your lady?” one of the gang members in his block teased, and with a grit in his teeth, Frank forced himself to not pick a fight — a successful attempt until the burly man went on. ”Would be a shame if anyone got their hands on your girl now that you ain’t out there to protect—”, he continued, his words cut off with a wheeze when Frank clamored out of his seat and promptly stabbed the pen into his neck. It was a good thing he had already signed the letter.

Realistically, he knew it may have been an empty threat. Nonetheless, as soon as he was out of prison, the letter tucked in the pocket of his jacket, he made his way to you. Making you were safe was priority number one — and if he’d get the chance to hand over the envelope and open his heart to you… Well, that would just be the cherry on top. He had promised to get out and tell you how he felt, to stop being a coward and admit that he wanted to be there for you, that he loved you, and that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Although, things never went exactly as planned.

He had so much determination and courage in his heart when he knocked on your door, but as soon as you opened it and your short figure appeared right in front of him, it all drained from his system. All he was left with was bare amazement and the reserved hope that you’d still welcome him into your home — he knew he had burned more than enough bridges with his little stunt in court, and he had spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had scared you off, too. That worry only now flared into a genuine fear as he watched astonishment wipe across your face, his own expression meek and his large body trying to shrink on itself to seem less intimidating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he managed, his voice raspy as ever, his dark eyes scanning your face and trying to make sense of the speechless trance you had been stunned into.

It was justified, of course. Who would expect a convicted criminal on their doorstep?

That wasn’t exactly what was on your mind, though. You had never doubted that Frank would get back up somehow; he couldn’t be kept down — but you couldn’t believe he had come to you. A man like him surely had places to be, people to kill, things to do and somehow… he was right there in front of you in all his glory, not bleeding out and in need of stitches, either. Just… there.

You didn’t realize how emotional the sight of him had gotten you until you opened your mouth and the words escaped you with a choke. ”Is it okay if I hug you?” you cracked, and with a deep, even relieved sigh, Frank let his tense shoulders drop and his head bob in a nod as he opened his arms.

He welcomed you gladly, his big arms winding around your smaller body to encompass you against his entirely. He realized then that you were wrapped up in one of the hoodies he had left behind, his confidence boosting but his heart breaking just a little at the thought of you sitting at home alone in his clothes, comforted by his scent and wondering if he’d ever come back to you. And right there and then, he knew he had made the right choice in doing so.

”I missed you”, you whispered into his chest, your heart doing somersaults at the firmness of it, your eyes fallen shut as you breathed him in and basked in his warmth and all his rough edges that only confirmed he was real and not a figment of your imagination, not a daydream, even if he had occupied nearly all of them for the past months.

”Missed ya too, girl”, he muttered into your hair, and as he held you there, grateful to have you again, the doubt began creeping in and the letter in his pocket started to seem like a bad idea. What if it would simply push you away, just when he got you in his arms?

Swallowing, he then decided maybe it was better not to bring it up.

”Hey, I, uh…”, he cleared his throat when you stepped back to welcome him into your apartment. He treaded carefully, like any second now you’d change your mind and turn him away — and he wouldn’t blame you, either. Trouble followed him wherever he went, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming to you every time. ”Look, there’s… a lot going on, y’know? Some shit might go down and I just…”, he continued, uncertain of his own words as his gaze fell to the nervously fiddling hands in front of him, ”I don’t want ya to look at the news and rethink the kinda guy I am, y’know?”

Chuckling, you shook your head at him. ”The news couldn’t change my mind about you, Frankie”, you reassured in a way that had his chest tightening. ”You’re my friend and—and a good guy, even if with… unique methods. But you are. Just because you have blood on your hands, doesn’t make you a bad man”, you went on, but he could tell you were nervous, too. He just couldn’t see past himself enough to understand it wasn’t fear making you tremble.

”I think you are loyal and sweet and protective and… capable of making people feel safe and appreciated. When I’m with you, I feel respected and understood. Never judged or unsafe”, you added, and with an amazed twinkle in his dark eyes, Frank looked up at you. Jesus, that was exactly how he felt around you. His lungs and throat were screaming at him to just tell you, but instead, he gave you a doubtful tilt of his head.

”You’re not scared?” he confirmed quietly, and with a small smile, you gave him a look.

”I’m not scared of you, Frank. I’m…”, you breathed in, hesitating before widening your smile and shaking your head, ”I’m not scared.” What you really wanted to tell was that you were nervous because you liked him — loved him. But you never felt threatened by him.

”Good”, he swallowed, defiance suddenly ablaze in his eyes as he seemed to relax. ”’Cause I’d never hurt ya. Shit, you make me wanna…”, he laughed, unsure where he was going with that thought. ”I just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. Look after you”, he finished with a sigh, the kind that knew he was officially in too deep. You got him good.

”Then I’ll look after you, too”, you promised, gesturing at his hands, ”starting with those knuckles of yours.”

He was almost amused, but when you seriously dug a small tube of hand cream from your bag and began rubbing the lotion onto his bruised hands, all he could do was stare at you, completely enamored by your kindness and the feeling of your gentle hands tending to his damaged ones.

It was almost ironic, really — you were gentle, he was damaged. In your mind, it was the other way around, and maybe that was why it worked. You were different in so many ways but the bare essentials were still there, making you an undeniable match even if neither of you were brave enough to say it out loud right now. But him being in your apartment and you lotioning his calloused hands spoke in volumes, reassuring you both that it was safe like this.

He hadn’t been wrong, though. Shit hit the fan fast and in a matter of days, Frank Castle was a dead man as far as the world was concerned.

Before that, though, he was coaxed further into the realization of just how important you were to him. He was used to nightmares, in fact, he anticipated them each night. And yet, that night, his hands still smelling like your vanilla lotion, he found himself dreaming of you, your big smile, your sweet laugh and your soft lips.

Jesus Christ, he wanted you so bad. All of you.

It was a little harder to go about his mission then. You occupied his mind constantly now, and he began to resent himself for being such a coward and not giving you the letter, after all.

And when he jumped off an exploding ship, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you. Once he made it out in one piece, he decided he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity again.

You had just seen the news on the TV, and as badly as you wanted to believe no body meant no death, your stomach was twisting and turning. The idea of Frank being gone, just like that, was one that began chipping at your sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get to sit with it for very long when there was a knock on your door, and you practically ran to open it, never more relieved to see the hunk of a man.

You tugged him into your apartment and sealed the door behind him before hugging him tight, on the verge of tears as you felt his firm body against yours and consoled yourself. He was there. He was alive. Well? Debatable.

”I’m okay, sweetheart, ’m okay. Can’t get rid of me that easy”, he chuckled darkly, his heart skipping a beat when you pulled away and looked right into his eyes. You looked so beautiful yet so vulnerable, and he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he realized he had gotten you so worked up. He hated to cause you any pain, but to know you cared that much?

”Shit…”, he breathed, licking his lips as he gently placed a hand on your jaw and groaned. ”C’mere”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss you, both your eyes closing as he placed his lips on yours, deep and tentative. You melted closer to him, your hands resting on his vest while he cupped your face and kissed you hard, breathing you in and reveling in the taste and feeling of you.

It was better than he had imagined, all anger and hatred leaving his system for the fleeting moment when he got to have just you, nothing else.

He wanted to take his sweet time with you but the yearning was too great to contain. In no time, you were lying on your back on your mattress with Frank on top of you, trying to hold back some of his weight as he kissed your neck and unzipped your skirt. He muttered words of praise and flattery against your soft skin, eyes blown wide with genuine admiration when he kissed his way down to your thighs and made you repeat his name in desperate begs and pleas.

A part of him was sure he was dreaming again, your head rested upon his bare chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you listened to his heartbeat and basked in the afterglow of the hours spent together. It was the middle of the night by now, the sounds of city never fully gone but toned down, your bed feeling like a safe haven amidst all the chaos around you both.

But Frank knew there was no permanent escape from what he had reshaped his life into. The thing was, you didn’t want to be an escape — you wanted to be part of it.

Nevertheless, he spoke up gruffly. ”Y’know I can’t stay, right?” he was quiet, his words a weak whisper, like a shameful confession he didn’t want the world to know. ”I mean, I’mma be with you tonight if you’ll let me, but I… I can’t leave things unfinished. The world thinks ’m dead, y’know, that’s just… It’s an advantage and I just—”, he went on, but you interjected with a nod and your hand smoothing up and down his chest soothingly.

”I know. I understand”, you promised before kissing his collarbone softly, ”I know, Frank. You don’t need to explain any more than you want to.”

He swallowed then, trying to muster up the courage to say what had been on his mind for so long. ”I, uh, I can’t ask you to hold out hope for me, but uh… I just want you to know…”, he tried to find the right words, licking his lips nervously before sighing and burying his face in your hair with a somber kiss. ”You don’t owe me shit. But you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Look, I gotta do my thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s easy to walk away from you because, fuck… I don’t wanna lose ya, sweetheart”, he explained further, making you smile against his scarred skin.

”I will always hold out hope for you, Frank. My door will always be open for you”, you replied simply, and even though you didn’t elaborate further, it was all he needed to hear. Just knowing you weren’t ready to give up on him.

And that was why he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He kept in touch in whatever small, Frank-esque ways he could. A note on your door, a novelty mug on your windowsill, a comforting message from an unknown number. Sometimes all you had was the remains of his aftershave enveloped in the sweaters he had left behind, or the slander of his name on the news even when he was presumed dead — it was small but it reminded you that he was, in fact, alive, and as long as he was that, then you had faith that one day he’d be back on your doorstep.

Sometimes he felt like an irredeemable asshole for making you wait for him. If only you had the chance, you would have told him to get his head out of his ass — you had fallen for him, and whether he wanted you to be there or not, you would have thought about him, worried over him, longed for him. He could have tried to distance himself from you if he wanted to, but he was so deeply entwined into your life by now that all the roots simply couldn’t be plucked out anymore.

And he may have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing how he felt about you, how being away from you made him ache, he suspected you shared the yearning and he knew that trying to push you away wouldn’t have healed either of you from it. So he kept in contact however he could, but not too close to keep his enemies off your trail.

You checked the news every day. And when you saw Billy Russo’s face plastered across your screen, his arrest making the headlines, you knew it was a good day.

Accordingly, there was promptly a knock on your door, and you felt your heart soar as you peeked through the peephole and saw the only man worth waiting for on the other side. You swung the door open, and in an instant, a smile stretched across his bruised face as he help up a bouquet of daffodils, making you grin, too.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, pulling you into a hug that shut off your senses from everything but him — all you smelled, felt and heard was him, your systems threatening to fail as you clung onto him like your life depended on it and felt his lips leave soft kisses on your forehead and hair. ”There ya are. As goddamn beautiful as I remembered”, he whispered, relieved to be holding you again, even a little proud of himself for making it here.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra motivation on all those long nights away — avenging his family was all the fuel he craved, but knowing that at the end of it all, he had someone to fall back on, encouraged him even more.

”I could say the same about you”, you chuckled while pulling away enough to place a gentle hand on his face and observe all the purple and yellow markings left there. It was obvious he had taken a beating, but if the news was to be trusted, Billy had suffered a fate much worse. And despite all the slowly healing scars on Frank’s sharp features, he was alive, and he was right there for you to admire and tend to.

”This ugly mug?” he snorted while kicking the door shut and pushing his hood off of his head, his hair grown out again and begging for your fingers to run through. Regardless of the mangled appearance, though, he seemed almost hopeful, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He seemed exhausted physically, but mentally, a little less tired. And that made you indescribably happy for him.

”I’m proud of you”, you breathed out, a smile crawling to your own face, ”you did what you needed to do, right? You… you did good. You deserve to rest now.”

Frank looked a little taken aback by your words. Not in a bad way, but it was obvious no one had told him before nor had he expected anyone to. But the quiet chuckle that rose from his throat was genuinely flattered, as was the squint of his eyes as he leaned forward and gave you a tiny nod.

”Thank you, sweetheart. Really”, he rasped before taking in a deep breath, ”any chance I’d, uh, get to rest here? With you?” The look in his eyes was almost boyish, almost nervous, and it made your heart soar the same way his gaze had the first night you had met.

”Always, Frankie”, you promised before placing a hand on his chest and beaming up at him, ”I was hoping you’d say that.”

He licked his lips and looked down at you, hand coming to your neck tenderly with his thumb brushing across your chin. ”I feel like shit for the way I left you back then. I, uh, I hope you didn’t feel like I was just… tryna get in your bed, y’know? It was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. It’s, I dunno, hard for me to put it into words but I care about ya. More than I have about anyone in a long time, I guess”, he explained awkwardly, but you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a single second.

You leaned up to briefly kiss him, and the way he leaned forward to get more made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you pulled apart to speak your turn, your smaller hand still resting on his bruised cheek.

”I know. I never doubted it. And I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you. I want you as you, Frank”, you reassured, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his forehead to yours.

”Girl… I want you”, he urged, and you smiled as he briefly touched your lips with the tip of his finger.

”I’m all yours, Frankie.”

[amyhayanora]

KHOC WEEK 2024 Day 2 - Past

the things for my OCs are now the only ones I do, so, off with the annual @khoc-week appointment.😂

The protagonist of this post should have been Aspis, my little Anguis kid, but since Aspis is deeply connected to another character, it's probably better that I start with some headcanons I have about the Foretellers. Between those and the designs, at this point they feel a bit like OCs too. even tried to do a Nomura-esque version for the occasion.

The assumption is that the Foretellers were one of the many attempts on the chessboard of the Master of Masters to face the Darkness. He gathered under his protection a group of lonely and desperate kids, with a tormented past, acting in the grey area more than out of affection. He bet on them. He sought out children who possessed specific flaws of distinct deadly sins, trained them, and made them his apprentices on a journey designed to make them overcome their "sin" and use it as a virtue that will be essential to their future "roles." For example…

Gula, who lived on the streets as a feral child, has known hunger, and food is also how MoM attracted him. Gula suffered from bulimia and nervous hunger for years, before managing to direct his anxiety towards logic and study, becoming an analytical boy "hungry" for knowledge.

Ava, sold away by her once rich family fell in disgrace, wanted EVERYTHING back. everything she had lost, or that she wanted but could no longer afford. Mom was the one who has bought her, she's too young to understand the extent of the family tragedy. that's why she later was the perfect one for the task of choosing any wielder she desires or attracts her eye, without limits, collecting the Dandelion.

Aced has always used his muscles to win easily, alone, without effort and without ever really try to improving himself, until carelessness cost him his tribe and an eye… he is now a loyal follower and uses his strength to defend the group, the arm of the law under Ira.

Ira, balances strength in combat and intelligence, which are also the qualities of his union. stubborn and rebellious, as an angry teenager he ran away from home, losing his path. He was the first one found by Mom, and he owes him his life. He learned to control his anger because of him, obtaining determination, willpower and the courage that made him choose as Leader.

Luxu carried the burden of being an unwanted child, the result of an affair, from an early age he felt cursed by that because of a big birthmark on one eye that vaguely resembles an X. shy, insecure and reserved, people pleaser, until life with his apprentice companions brought out his mischievous and creative personality. His being a people pleaser made him incredibly attentive to the behavior of the people around him and the ideal candidate to infiltrate among people and live their lives, one after the other.

Finally, Invi.

like all the other foretellers, her name is more of a title. Her real name is Nivea, and she was isolated from her village because white hair was considered a bad omen. The resentment of having to survive alone, with a little brother to support, he too with lighter hair than was welcome, soon turned into Envy, gnawing at her insides every time Nivea stopped to observe the normality of other families, lurking and hating everyone but her brother Aspis.

MoM saved both, proposing a deal to Nivea: he would take care of them, they would have a roof over their heads, education, a future, as long as she studied under him.

With no other real choice, the children accept out of desperation.

Nivea and Aspis initially lived together, but as they grow older she is forced to uphold her end of the bargain, spending more and more time at the clocktower. Aspis and Nivea's relationship is ruined irreparably, as Invi begins to enjoy her studies and the company of her peers, spending less and less time with her brother "for a higher purpose".

On the other hand, Aspis, who has always remained silent about a subtle hostility from the inhabitants of Daybreak Town due to his bad temper and sharp tongue, is left almost alone. His only wish was not to be a burden to his sister, who therefore always believed everything was fine and let him go without regrets. Aspis is full of resentment towards Mom, blaming him for brainwashing his sister, now obsessed by Light and darkness, when she clearly only wanted a better life for them.

Aspis and Invi do not hate each other, but the lack of communication makes it difficult to make peace, they will miss their chance before the War.

Aspis eventually made some friends along the way, that made his loneliness bearable. he is in a sort of trio with Lupe and Leonna, and a little girl who for some reason adores him like a big brother, Velcia (she's @alchemist-of-thebes 's oc). he'll never admit it, but he would die for her.😂

concluding this post with some old foretellers art dump xD

[aventurineswife]

The Weight of Ignorance

Summary: Struggling under the weight of Ratio's high expectations, you question whether you are truly capable of meeting his standards. After a harsh critique on your latest work, you find yourself in an emotional confrontation with your mentor. Beneath his demanding exterior, however, lies a deep care and a personal vulnerability that he rarely shows. Through this moment of connection, you come to understand his intentions and resolve to rise to the challenges ahead.

Tags: @valssafeplace2, Ratio x Reader, Platonic, Parental Relationship, Angst with Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Teacher-Student Relationship, Found Family Themes, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Themes of Academic Pressure and Self-doubt, Mentions of Rejection and Personal Insecurities, Emotional Angst, but with a comforting resolution.

The marble halls of the Intelligentsia Guild echoed with the sound of hurried footsteps. Dr. Ratio walked briskly, his hair catching the light of the high chandeliers. His presence was commanding, a blend of intellect and confidence that both inspired and intimidated those around him.

You struggled to keep up, clutching your notebooks tightly against your chest. Being under the mentorship of Dr. Ratio was both an honor and a burden. His standards were impossibly high, and you often felt like you were drowning in the deep waters of his expectations.

Today had been no different.

“You failed the theorem.” His words from earlier still rang in your ears. The disappointment in his voice had cut deeper than any criticism. “An error so fundamental, I wonder if you truly understand the principles I’ve taught you.”

You had tried to explain, to defend yourself, but the words stuck in your throat. The weight of his judgment was suffocating.

Now, as the two of you entered his private study, the silence was deafening. He gestured for you to sit, his piercing eyes scanning you critically. You obeyed, feeling small under his gaze.

“Do you know why I push you so hard?” he asked, his voice calmer now but no less firm.

You hesitated, unsure if this was a rhetorical question. “Because… you believe I can do better?” you ventured cautiously.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Partly. But also because ignorance is a disease—one that spreads if left unchecked. You, of all people, should understand the responsibility we bear as scholars.”

You looked down at your hands, shame creeping up your spine. “I’m trying… I really am.”

Ratio sighed, running a hand through his wavy hair. For a moment, he seemed less like the indomitable intellectual and more like a weary teacher. “I know you are.”

The admission surprised you, and you glanced up at him. He was staring out the window now, his expression unreadable.

“I was once like you,” he continued, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Young, overwhelmed, desperate to prove myself. But the world is not kind to those who falter. The Genius Society rejected me despite my achievements. Do you know why?”

You shook your head, the thought of anyone rejecting someone like him unfathomable.

“They said I lacked the ability to connect with others, to nurture potential in those beneath me.” He chuckled bitterly. “Imagine that. A flaw in my character, not my intellect.”

For the first time, you saw a crack in his armor. The weight of his own expectations, the pressure he placed on himself—it was all there, hidden beneath the layers of confidence and condescension.

“I see potential in you,” he said, turning back to you. “That’s why I’m hard on you. But potential means nothing without discipline. You must rise above your limitations.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Ratio’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. Not if you keep trying. Mistakes are inevitable, but ignorance is a choice. Choose to learn, to grow, and you’ll never truly fail.”

The weight of his hand was both grounding and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I’ll do better,” you promised, your voice steady.

“I know you will,” he replied. “And I’ll be here to guide you. Always.”

For all his sharp edges and high standards, Dr. Ratio cared. It wasn’t always easy to see, but in moments like this, it was undeniable. You left his study that evening feeling lighter, ready to face the challenges ahead.

For him. For yourself. For the knowledge that could change the universe.