#handmade❤

[l-747]

HOMEMADE MOB PLUSH MADE WITH PURE LOVE AND CARE ❤❤❤❤

WELCOME HOME SHIGEO ❤❤❤❤ YOULL MAKE A LOT OF FRIENDS IN HERE :3

MOB EATING WATERMELON FEAT. KAKYOIN!!!!!!! THEYRE FRIENDS NOW 💯💯🥰🥰🥰 im the happiest person alive

[mushroom--eater]

His name is Alex, he is a long crochet snake I made. He got his name after a college student came up to me, asking if it had a name, I let her name him since he didnt have one. :)

[tamsiecc]

❤︎ Soft Loops – Crochet Clutter Mini Set ❤︎ A little cozy something for your Sims’ crafty spaces ❤︎ This mini set includes: – A functional crochet hook set (Nifty Knitting required) – A decorative unfinished project (BASEGAME compatible) – A crochet hook set(decor)(BASEGAME compatible)

Available now for patrons as a soft thank-you 🌷 💌 It will be released publicly on July 7th - OMG!!!! I MEANT TO SAY JUNE!! JUNE 7TH.. SORRY GUYS If you'd like to support my work and get early access, you can find it here.

Thank you so so much for your likes and reblogs! — I hope this brings a handmade vibe to your builds 🧵🍓

[ninisdollie]

Just for the glory - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .demigods series

Synopsis: Jake Sim, son of Hermes and captain of cabin 11 at the camp halfblood, is known as the best swordsman of his generation. With his swordsmanship and unshakable confidence, his life seems perfectly under control, until you, challenge him to a sword duel. In front of the entire community, Jake accepts the challenge, confident in his victory. However, he soon discovers that you are not just a beautiful face, but a formidable warrior with skills that surprise him. Amid the fierce competition and growing tension, you two are caught by an unexpected spark. As your hearts begin to intertwine, Jake will have to face a new kind of battle: the duel between pride and love.

Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x jake, pjo au, hermes! son jake x aphrodites! daugther reader, jake is a little cocky i based his character on my man luke castellan ok, violence (sword duel), cursing, sexual tension, oral sex (f recieving), praising, worshipping, dirty talk, explicit sex.

Word count: 10.2k (a bit long but so worth it i swear)

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

In camp Halfblood, everybody knew who you were.

Or at least, they thought they knew.

You were the ideal Aprhodite's daughter. Sweet, always soft-spoken, smiling with a kind word for everyone. You helped your sibilings braid their hair before every meal, the younger ones seeing you as an older sister who they always could count on, the older having the necessity of taking care of you. You left little handmade gifts in front of every cabin, just because, and remembered the name of even the shyest campers. You were grace in motion, impeccable manners in every movement, the very picture of your mother's legacy.

Didn't raise your voice, didn't loose temper. You didn't need to. People naturally flocked to you, drawn in by your calm presence and genuine warmth. Your reputation was spotless, your charm unmatched. No one had ever seen you in a real fight. You were considered the peace, where every demigod landed when they were feeling tired, struggling with the heavy air of the camp.

You wore vanilla scented perfume, braided your hair in beautiful, creative ways, decorating with flowers and colorful petals, your clothes always placed beautifully over your body, enchancing your figure. Your hands were gentle, soft fingers with perfect manicure as you helped wounded demigods and waved at the little kids that looked up to you as a mother they never had. A soft, wide smile in your lips, always glistening with lip gloss.

And to be honest, you liked it that way.

"Your strength is in your beauty, and your charm" your mother had said to you once, through a dream, when you first got claimed "Make me feel proud."

Nobody expected anything from you, beyond being lovely and helpful, but that was good, because you were free to move in silence. And although you enjoyed the vision people had of you, you took that into advantage, even if you and your siblings weren't taken very seriously, you wanted to feel powerful, to reach glory. It's what every demigod truly desired, and you weren't the exception.

You were hungry for it, ambition became your dna.

So you let them see only what you wanted.

They didn't see the girl that trained secretly until sunrise, even when you hated early mornings, the girl that read and memorised love poetry but dreamt about the battlefield, the girl that watched Ares kids closely to learn about their movements and strategies, the girl that hurt herself a lot of times trying to perfect her skills with the sword, the arch, and every other existing weapon. You had your own powers, the ones your mother had blessed you with (charmspeak, cursing) but you wanted more.

You didn't really had to prove yourself to anyone, everybody already loved you, but you did it because you could, because you wanted to. Because love isn't always soft, it's protective, fierce, and sometimes it required a blade.

In the moonlight, you drew your hidden blade, an elegant shortsword, delicate-looking, but perfectly balanced. You began to move, each step practiced and precise. Your form was fluid, flawless. There was no hesitation in your strikes, no wasted movement. You moved like water, graceful, calm... deadly.

Few knew about this side of you. You didn’t train to impress anyone. You trained for yourself. For the day someone would push too far. For the day someone would need protecting. For the day you’d have to prove that love isn’t weakness.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The morning sunlight spilled across Camp HalfBlood like golden syrup, warm and slow. At the Aphrodite cabin, everything was already in perfect order. Beds were made, mirrors sparkled, and the scent of roses and vanilla drifted lazily through the open windows.

You sat on a velvet couch, humming softly as you helped your youngest sister adjust a flower crown on her beautiful, long hair.

“There.” you said with a gentle smile, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind the little girl���s ear. “You look like a dryad princess.”

Your siblings adored you, and you enjoyed spending time with them like this, quiet, calm, just like you always were. They were like the little family you never had.

Your little sister turned and hugged you “You’re the best, Y/N.”

You kissed the top of her head. “Go get dressed, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the moment of peace shattered.

The cabin doors burst open with a loud bang, doors crashing the walls as your younger brothers came in running and heavy breathing, eyes opened wide.

“Y/N!” Sunoo, one of you brothers shouted breathlessly, his chest heaving, hair wild. “You gotta come see this, the Hermes kids are going at it in the sparring field! Like, full-on duel style! It’s insane!”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes with amusement. Hermes kids, they had the second place as the messiest ones in camp, just under Ares kids, of course. The whole cabin gasped, fluttering around the room with curiosity.

"Wait, like, real swords?" Your sister stared with big, surprised eyes, and you placed a hand on her head, trying to calm her down.

"It's Jake again, i knew someone would challenge him one day"

You blinked slowly, brushing invisible lint off your skirt. Of course, Jake Sim was the main character of today's exciting event.

Jake Sim had the kind of reputation that walked into a room before he did.

The moment someone said his name, you’d hear it all: "Best swordsman at camp," "Captain of Cabin 11," "Hermes' golden boy." He was fast, blindingly so, with reflexes sharper than his blade. Some swore they’d seen him disarm an opponent in under three seconds. Others claimed he could steal your weapon mid-swing and hand it back with a wink.

He wasn’t just skilled. He was annoyingly skilled.

Jake had that effortless swagger, half grin, half smirk, full confidence. He could talk his way out of trouble, into hearts, and across borders. Born to the god of thieves and travelers, Jake carried that legacy like a badge of honor. He never stayed in one place too long, never let anyone too close, but somehow, everyone still wanted to be around him.

Even campers from other cabins, rival cabins, wanted to be his friend, or at the very least, seen near him. He was the kind of demigod others watched on the training field and thought, Yeah, that’s who I want to be when I stop tripping over my own sword.

He was cocky. No, scratch that, he was infuriatingly cocky. But the thing was... he could back it up. Every time.

Jake didn’t take most things seriously, except sword fighting. That was his sanctuary, his art. He trained like he had something to prove, even if no one could figure out what it was. People said he was strong enough to lead a quest on his own. Strong enough to beat a child of Ares in single combat. Strong enough to never lose.

So when someone mentioned a duel with Jake Sim, everyone came running. Because when Jake fought, it wasn’t just a match, it was a show.

"I'm telling you, sister, he's gonna chop that kid's head off"

You rose gracefully, smoothing down your perfectly pressed blouse. Your voice was calm, almost amused. But the sentence made you frown your eyebrows, you were always looking after the kids, so you naturally worried hearing your brother’s words.

"Well, if he's fighting a kid, i must go take a look then"

You quickly put your shoes on, not wasting time before heading out of the cabin.

The air outside was brisk with early morning chill, the kind that made your skin tingle and your senses sharper. You walked calmly across the training grounds, your footsteps light, unhurried. A few of your siblings trailed behind you, excited whispers bouncing between them.

When you reached the edge of the sparring field, the crowd was already thick. Campers from nearly every cabin had gathered in a wide circle, forming a loose ring around the action. You stepped between two taller demigods, murmured a soft “excuse me,” and looked toward the center of the field.

There he was.

Shirt slightly rumpled, curls tousled from the fight, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was enjoying himself just a little too much. His bronze sword flashed in the sunlight, fast and fluid, spinning in perfect arcs. His opponent, a short, golden haired son of Apollo, was panting, wild-eyed, struggling to keep up.

Jake wasn’t even sweating.

He dodged each swing with ease. Not out of necessity, out of amusement. His stance was relaxed, movements smooth, measured. He looked like he was playing. The boy lunged again, desperate, and stumbled.

Jake stepped aside, caught the boy’s wrist mid-swing, and twisted gently, not enough to break anything, but enough to send the sword clattering to the dirt. Then, with a flick of his own blade, he tapped it against the kid’s shoulder.

“Better luck next time, champ,” he said, voice light, teasing. “But maybe wait until you can hold the sword without it shaking, yeah?”

A few campers laughed. A few others didn’t.

Your brows knit as you stepped forward through the crowd. Of course he would find fun in fighting a younger, inexperienced boy, it only fed to his ego. Your heart shattered at the little boy's expression, that protectiveness nature in your eyes.

Your voice was soft, but it carried, clear and unmistakable.

“I expected more from you, Jake Sim.”

The laughter faded like a snapped string. Heads turned. Even the Apollo boy froze, eyes wide.

He hadn’t realized you were there. And yet, there you stood, poised, polished, and completely unreadable. The very picture of Aphrodite grace in a soft cream blouse, sunlight catching in your hair like a halo.

“Oh?” he said, lifting a brow. “And what exactly did you expect?”

You walked toward the center, graceful as ever. You knelt beside the boy first, murmured something too quiet for the others to hear, and gently helped him to his feet. Jake watched, his eyes following you slowly, and he swallowed, of course the first thing you’d do would be check on the boy. You gave him your handkerchief, embroidered, of course, and sent him off with a smile that was more comforting than any healing spell.

Then you straightened and turned to Jake, your tone polite, serene, and yet somehow sharper than any blade.

“A real swordsman knows the difference between a challenge and an easy win,” you said. “He doesn’t swing his pride at someone half his size just to prove he’s still the strongest.”

The crowd let out a soft ripple of ooooohs, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t even raise your voice.

Jake’s jaw tightened, barely. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. She’s calling you out. Not just for the fight. For everything. The showboating. The ego. The fact that you saw right through it, and weren’t afraid to say it.

For the first time all morning, Jake didn’t have a clever comeback ready. He studied you, this sweet, delicate Aphrodite girl with a quiet voice and ribbons in her hair, like he was seeing you for the first time. He knew you, but like every other demigod in camp, only your facade.

And he didn’t know what to make of you.

You tilted your head slightly, that same gentle smile on your lips.

"What could you know about it, princess?" His tone was sarcastic, teasing, his hand now resting on his hip.

Of course he would say that, always underestimating your lineage, you were used to that, but that didn't mean it didn't strike the wrong buttons in you.

You flipped your hair, lifting your shoulders into an almost lazy expression.

"I don't know, hero." an eyebrow lifted in your face "To be called the best swordsman here, i think that was kind of lame. Your evident hunger and overwhelming pride, you make them too obvious when you're fighting" You kept smiling, and you saw how his jaw clenched a bit. "It's going to be your downfall one day."

A fire lit in him, and you almost laughed, cocky men like him were so easy to get.

Then his smirk returned, slow and full of challenge.

“Careful, sweetheart. That sounded dangerously close to a challenge.”

Someone needs to stop him. Someone needs to remind him that strength isn’t just speed or skill. It’s restraint. It's knowing when to put the sword down.

You looked around.

No one moved.

Then, with a deep breath, you spoke.

"Maybe it was."

Challenge, delivered like a bouquet of roses with a blade hidden in the center. Jake felt something twist in his chest, something like adrenaline, but deeper. Like interest. Like curiosity.

He stepped forward, lowering his sword, just slightly. His eyes met yours, and the grin he gave you now was slower. Less cocky. More intrigued.

“Well,” he said, voice rich with anticipation. “Guess I finally found someone worth my time.”

Your hands stayed at your sides, calm as ever. But your eyes were sharper than glass. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Jake chuckled, confident.

“Are you?”

You didn’t answer, just winked at him gracefully before turning around, taking the boy’s hand so you could go and help him get clean, all of your siblings following you, lips parted, still processing what just happened.

Camp’s best swordsman stayed there, watching you as you walked away, eyes lingering to you figure, half smirk still on his lips. Intrigued, curious. A little offended, to be honest.

But it didn’t matter. Revenge would be so sweet.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“Are you out of your divine mind?!”

The room was a flurry of perfume, silk, and frantic hands as you stood calmly in the center, arms raised slightly as one of your sisters laced your bracers with delicate precision.

“You’re dueling Jake Sim.” Minjeong, your loudest sister, paced dramatically. “Jake. Sim. The golden boy of the entire camp. The guy who once beat two Ares kids in one match without even messing up his hair!”

“I heard he fought a drakon on a solo quest,” another added, wide-eyed. “With a stick.”

Of course they were worried, no other camper had dared to challenge him into a full, real duel, less say an Aprhodite kid, you guys weren't for the fight, it wasn't in your true nature. But you were different, and he was about to see that.

You gave them a soft smile.

“You forgot the part where he’s cocky, overconfident, and clearly underestimates me.”

“Babe, we all underestimate you. That’s the problem.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hair behind your ear. “Good. That’ll make it more satisfying.”

Your siblings paused, blinking.

Then Minjeong narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with Y/N?”

On the other side of the camp, Hermes cabin was buzzing.

“Dude, you are so dead,” one of Jake’s brothers laughed, slapping his shoulder as Jake tightened the straps on his armor.

“Nah,” another chimed in, flopping onto the bunk beside him. “He’s got this. It’s just Y/N.”

Jake didn’t look up. He was focused on adjusting his grip tape, his fingers moving fast. “Exactly. It’s just Y/N.”

But his jaw was clenched.

He wasn't just thinking about the duel itself, he was thinking about you. How you dared to call him out in front of everybody, not even raising your voice, not even making any expression. Just that damn, calm smile in your beautiful face, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It made him burn, not only with anger, ego already hurt, but with something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Yeah, but she called you out in front of everyone,” Jay pointed out with a grin. “Like… burned you alive and smiled while doing it.”

“Did you see her face?” a younger Hermes camper piped up. “She looked like she was about to give him a compliment and then murdered him.”

Jake snorted, finally cracking a grin. “She’s got teeth under all that sugar, huh?”

The others laughed, but Jake’s mind wasn’t entirely on their banter. He kept replaying your voice in his head, calm, soft, but piercing. The way you’d looked at him. Like you already knew exactly how this would end.

It wasn’t just your challenge. It was the fact that you hadn’t been angry. Or scared.

You’d been sure.

Jake had never gone up against someone like that before.

And it was messing with him.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The field felt different that morning.

Quieter, somehow, like the entire camp was holding its breath.

Campers crowded along the perimeter, perched on rocks, benches, fences. Even a few nymphs had slipped out of the forest to see what the hype was about. Someone had dragged out a banner from last summer’s Capture the Flag game and hastily painted over it in red: JAKE SIM VS. Y/N – BEAUTY VS. THE BEST

Laughter. Shouting. Betting. It was a storm of noise.

Jake was already there, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders. His sword gleamed at his side, and his hair caught the sun in just the right way, it was almost unfair how good he looked in a fight.

He looked up as soon as he felt you enter.

You stepped through the archway into the field like you weren't walking to a duel, more like you were entering a ballroom. Light-footed. Graceful. Composed.

Your armor was pale gold, custom-fit over soft rose-toned leather. Subtle floral engravings decorated the trim, and the sheath on your hip sparkled faintly with celestial bronze. Your sword was delicate and elegant, thinner than his, but no less dangerous.

For a second, the crowd went quiet again.

Jake couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. You looked like a real life goddess, ready for war, but the delicacy, soft aura that sorrounded you still untouched.

It made his brain tickle, his throat dry. But he played it off.

“Didn’t know they made armor with perfume built in.”

You stopped a few feet away, tilting your head. “Didn’t know they made egos that big without divine intervention.”

Oof. That got a few laughs. You came with these type of comebacks so easily, never seemed touched by his comments, never letting anyone get under your skin.

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair.”

His gaze was locked into yours, heavy, lit up, burning with something more than challenge or anger, it was an intense look, as if he was trying to figure you out, trying to look right through you.

A heartbeat passed.

Chiron stepped between you, tall and regal, his voice booming with authority. “Campers. This is a friendly duel. Training blades only. No fatal blows. First to disarm wins.” He looked between the two. “Understood?”

Jake gave a nod. “Sure.”

You smiled sweetly. “Of course.”

Your swords were exchanged for dulled celestial bronze training versions, enchanted to sting like Hades but not kill.

As Chiron backed away, the air thickened. The noise from the crowd melted into the background.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

You just watched each other.

Jake’s smirk faded into something quieter, measured. Curious. You stood with your blade at your side, calm and unmoved, like you were waiting for him to decide when the dance would start. The crowd was roaring behind you two, but Jake barely heard it anymore. You stood across the ring, your sword loose in one hand, eyes locked on his like you were the only two people in the world. Yours shining, sparkling with hunger, he could tell you’d been waiting for this, he just couldn’t understand why exactly.

Then the real game started.

You began to circle. Slowly at first. Measuring. Watching.

Jake’s feet moved in perfect rhythm, fluid, confident. He tilted his head slightly, sizing you up.

“You sure you’re not just here to impress your cabin?” he teased, voice low.

You smiled softly. “You sure you’re not just afraid to lose in front of yours?”

The way you said it, light, airy, like a flower petal on the breeze, made the jab land even harder.

Jake’s smirk twitched. Okay. Cute. You were cool. Calm. Unshaken.

But he knew how to break through that. He always did.

He feinted to the right, quick and sharp.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, your blade rose fast, just enough to parry if he committed. You didn’t overreact. You didn’t fall for it.

Interesting.

Jake took a step in and you mirrored it.

Two more steps.

Then Clash.

Your swords met in a flash of bronze, the sound ringing out like thunder. Your strike was fast. Faster than he expected. Not wild, not emotional, precise. Controlled. You pivoted on your heel, angling your body to minimise target space. Your movements were so clean, so deliberate.

Jake caught the blow, just barely. Your faces were close now, blades pressing, arms trembling with tension.

You were faster than he expected, stronger too. Your swords clashed again, ringing across the field, but Jake barely registered the sound. His focus narrowed, locked on the girl in front of him.

He’d never really looked at you before, not like this. You were always… in the background. The picture of perfection. Helping younger campers with their braids, organizing picnic tables, smiling like nothing in the world could touch you.

But this girl?

This girl moved like a storm pretending to be a breeze.

Every strike you threw was elegant, but lethal. Every step was soft, but deliberate. You were poetry in motion, graceful and deadly. And you weren’t just matching him, you were challenging him.

Jake gritted his teeth and swung again, forcing you to block high, then low. You countered with a fluid pivot that nearly knocked the blade from his hand.

The air was hot, the sun high in the sky, every eye on you two, on the fight. Long minutes passed between swings and hits, where neither of you seemed to be surrendering for now.

He was sweating, like actually sweating.

And you, gods, you still looked serene. Focused, unrattled. It should’ve pissed him off, it did a bit, but instead something in his chest twisted. Tight.

How the hell did he not notice you before?

You could feel his strength in every strike. The way he moved, clean, sharp, confident. There was a reason why they called Jake Sim the best swordsman of his generation.

You spun to the side, narrowly dodging a brutal downswing, and countered with a quick jab towards his side. He blocked it in time, but you saw the flicker in his eyes, surprise.

You weren’t playing anymore.

There was heat in his eyes, not just from the fight. Not from frustration, it was something else. Like curiosity, like awe.

You took a deep breath, and stepped back, reseting your stance. So did he. You were circling again, both breathing harder now, both sweating, neither smiling anymore.

The way you moved, each strike fast and precises, calculated like a chess player five moves ahead. You were good.

But Jake’s eyes kept drifting.

The curve of your shoulders as you pivoted. The way your braid swung behind you, like it was dancing with the wind. The way your perfect skin glistened beneath the sun and the sweat, a few strands sticked to your beautiful face, your makeup still perfectly applied, the way your body seemed to shine. Your armor, subtle, elegant, hugged your body like it has been made by Aphrodite herself. Which, honestly? Wouldn’t been shocking.

And then there were your eyes, focused, glowing, locked on him like a pretador pretending to be a prey.

You stepped into him, swung high. He blocked, but his grip slipped a little, the crowd gasping.

Pull it together, for fucks sake. He thought, tilting his head, chest moving up and down, lips parted as he caught his breath. But for some reason he couldn’t, not when you were this close, not when you smelled like roses and wildfire, sweet and soft. It made his skin shiver even if the day was hot beneath the burning sun. The sweat on his forehead falling along his whole face until it was dripping from his neck.

You spun again, graceful as a dancer, and your leg brushed his as you passed him. His mind scrambled for focus, he tightened his grip and turned, eyes locked on your back for a split second before you twisted around, blade raised. And smiling.

He was so in trouble.

You could feel it, the shift. Jake was still fighting, fast, precise, sharp like always. But there was something different in the way his sword moved now. A half second slower, a little less direct, his eyes weren’t on your blade anymore.

They were on you.

You ducked under his swing, twisted behind him, and let your fingers graze his side, not a hit, just barely a touch. And he froze. Then you stepped back into position, sword up again, and let your gaze flick down his chest, then back up, slow, enough for him to notice, fast enough to pretend it was accidental. This was a different game now, something unspoken.

Jake’s breath hitched.

“You okay there, Sim?” you asked sweetly, voice like honey and silk.

He scowled, but it was weak. His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk.

“Just adjusting.” he muttered, circling again.

You let your shoulders relax, body fluid as you moved. Your braid bounced with each step, catching the sunlight, you could feel his eyes on it. On you.

But you struck again, quick, sharp, letting your body press just a bit too close in the follow-through. He caught your blade, but his footing slipped, just slightly. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, his arm brushing your waist, his breath was right there, hitting your cheek. It was now your skin’s turn to shiver.

You leaned in, whispered just loud enought for only him to hear.

“Still think this is just a friendly spar?”

His eyes met yours, heated, locked. Fire beneath them.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. There was something floating between you two now, something more than just challenge. It was lust, intrigue, desire.

Jake was losing focus, and he knew it. Everytime he got close, you’d look at him like that, eyes calm, soft, but hiding the fire behind them. Like you knew you were pulling his strings and were enjoying every second of it.

He swung low, fast, but you danced out of range like you could read his thoughts, your movements were too smooth, too deliberate. You were baiting him. Then he circled to the left, feinted, struck high, and you caught it. Your blades locked again, faces inches apart, breath mingling.

Your lips were slightly parted, glistening, cherry lip gloss still perfectly applied.

Jake’s chest rose and fell with each breath, sweat slid down the back of his neck, and still, he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth.

You tilted your head, just slightly, close enough to be a whisper.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.” He answered quickly, too quickly.

So you smiled. “You are.”

Your swords scraped as you held the lock, muscles trembling.

“Are you gonna try to kiss me, or are you gonna fight me?” you murmured, so low only he could hear.

And he blinked, just once. And in that exact half-second, you dropped your weight, twisted under his blade, and swept his legs out from under him with one clean, beautiful spin.

Thud.

He hit the ground, flat on his back, sword flying from his hand and skidding across the arena floor, eyes wide open as if he couldn’t believe it.

Then, the crowd exploded. Cheers, gasps, laughter. Your siblings jumping, hugging each other, kids from other cabins going crazy.

You looked around, getting an early hint of that glory you so much desired, that moment, where everyone seemed to be worshipping you, admiring you, you felt something you couldn’t describe. This was what demigods were made for, what you were born for. And today, today you proved it. You smiled at the crowd, bowing gracefully like a ballerina who just finished a perfect show, your siblings throwing pink, beautiful flowers at you, a few getting stuck in your hair.

Jake groaned and blinked up at the sky, still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Then you stepped into his field of vision. You stood over him like a goddess in battle armor, your sword pointed gently at his chest, just where his racing heart was, one eyebrow raised in that maddening, perfect smile.

“Disarmed.” you said simply.

He stared up at you, breathless. Not because of his obvious lost, but because of you.

“Remind me never to underestimate Aprhodite’s kids again.”

You tilted your head, same sweet grin in your lips.

“We’re full of surprises.”

And then you offered him a hand, he stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, his head spinning, going circles, not because of the fall, not because he had been defeated, but because your smell was taking over all the air around him, and for some reason, he wanted his lungs full of it.

He finally took it, sweaty, hot palms against each other. Your fingers were warm, strong, and when you pulled him up, you were close, closer than before. Not just physically.

And suddenly, the duel didn’t feel like the end. It felt like the beginning of something much more dangerous.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

It had been three days. Three days since the duel. Since you, sweet, soft-spoken, perfect little Aprhodite’s daughter had knocked him flat on his back in front of half of the camp and walked away like it meant nothing.

Jake placed the edge of the training arena, jaw tight, arms crossed. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field where he’d lost. Where you had disarmed him, humiliated him, and smiled while doing it.

His fingers twitched like they were still reaching for the sword you’d knocked away.

And fucking gods, it still pissed him off. Not because he lost, okay, a little bit.

But mostly because you hadn’t even looked surprised. Like you knew all along that you could take him down. Like it was easy. It was the way you looked at him while you fought, calm, focused, like you’d seen through every layer of swagger and charm he wore like armor.

And worse, it was the way he had looked at you, every curve of your body, every flick of your wrist, every step, graceful, purposeful, dangerous. How your figure moved, how your face stayed calm all the time, looking beautiful, perfect. His whole body shivered just at the memory. You hadn’t just beat him in duel.

You unraveled him.

Now he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. Part of him wanted a rematch, part of him wanted to kiss you just to see if you would let him, part of him wanted to grab his sword, drag you back into the arena and lose on purpose just to feel that thrill again.

You’re Jake Sim. Son of Hermes. Captain of cabin 11. Everyone looks up to you.

How could he just walk up to the girl who beat him, who toyed with him, and say “Hey, i haven’t stopped thinking about you. You got under my skin and i don’t know what to do with that.”

It felt like surrender. And he never, never did that.

But what terrified him more than bruised pride, was the thought of never seeing you like that again. The thought of you walking away from whatever the hell this was.

Jake looked down at his hands, strong, calloused, steady. But for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with them.

The Aprhodite cabin was glowing in the afternoon light, sun filtering through silk pink curtains, the scent of jasmine and rosewater drifting in the air as some of your sibilings had a relaxing, spa day.

You sat on the edge of your sister’s bed, weaving ribbons through a braid with steady, practiced hands. Your touch was soft, gentle, perfect, as always. You smiled when your sister thanked you, gave her a quiet “Of course” and rose to help another camper fix the hem of a dress.

Your movements were calm, graceful.

But your thoughts? Nowhere near calm.

They were back in the arena. Back with the weight of Jake’s body hitting the ground, the way the crowd roared, the he’d looked up at you, surprised, winded, and just a little bit wrecked.

A thrill sparked in your chest all over again.

You did that.

For once, your strength hadn’d been hidden behind beauty or kindness or smiles. You’d shown it. Proved it. And not just to the camp, but to him.

And gods, the look on his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your lips as you adjusted a camper’s hair clip.

He’d looked at you like he couldn’t decide wether to fight you or fall for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of hoped it was both.

Because as much as you were proud of your win, of the way you’d flipped him on his back in front of everyone, you couldn’t stop thinking about the tension in his jaw. The heat in his eyes, the sweat falling from his neck, his dark hair sticked to his forehead, his plump, perfect lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. The way his voice dropped.

There had been something there. Not just in the way you two moved, but in the pause between your strikes. The almost-touch, the almost-kiss. The hunger for something unspoken that wasn’t just glory.

He hadn’t spoke to you since then, not once. Was it pride? Or was he trying to stay away from you?

The idea of him thinking about you, fighting with the same pull, made your chest tighten in a way that was far too satisfying.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

In the armory, the air was thick with the scent of oiled leather and iron. Faint dust danced in golden rays of afternoon light cutting through the narrow windows. It was quiet. Undisturbed. You decided to go there to pick a few new weapons for this year's Capture the Flag, after all, you were the camp's new favorite warrior.

But then Jake Sim walked in.

His boots echoed slightly against the stone floor. He didn’t speak at first, he just watched you.

You stood with your back to him, delicately running your fingers along the line of dagger belts laid across a wooden table. The soft curve on your neck, the gentle sway of your hair, Jake’s eyes followed every detail like it was dangerous.

Because it was.

His heart was racing and he knew exactly why, it was because of you, because of the thoughts he had been having about you, about what you did to him and what he wanted to do to you. It was driving him crazy.

“You always this graceful picking out weapon straps?” he finally said, voice just low enough to carry.

You turned, slowly, as if you’d known he was watching all along. His raspy voice echoing, you suppressed a smirk. He was wearing the camp shirt, tightened around his chest because of his muscular body, veins popping under the slightly tanned skin of his arms, hair perfectly slicked back, that same, cocky, confident smirk in his lips. It made you want to kill him or jump right onto him an devour him.

“Only when i know someone is staring.” you said with a smile so subtle it felt like a secret.

Jake’s heart kicked hard in his chest again.

You were dressed simply, white tank top and cotton shorts, your usual camp gear. But the way you stood there, confident and completely at ease, made it impossible to look away. Your lips were glossed with something soft and pink. Your eyes sparkled, playful, unreadable. Your beautiful, long eyelashes decorated with perfectly applied mascara, a soft red blush on your cheeks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”. You said, drifting closer to the display, tracing the edge of a bronze buckle.

Jake leaned against the nearby bench, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered. Trying.

It was the first time you two were talking after the events in the arena, the first time you two were alone, in a room, with those drowning feelings that none of you had put the finger on, it was like a recipe for disaster. And you were about to fall inside of it, deep.

“Didn’t expect you to haunt my thoughts either, but here we are.”

Your eyes lifted. And there it was, that flicker of fire beneath the calm, sweet surface. Made him want to forget all of his pride and kneel down in front of you to worship you.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” A shiver went down your spine when he smirked, cocky out of habit, but inside he was drowning.

“You beat me in front of everyone. It’s hard to forget something like that.”

Was it just that? Or something else? Something heavier, deeper, hotter. You didn't know. Jake was a cocky man, pride showered him like a second skin, you knew it was hard for a demigod like him letting those words leave his mouth, and for some reason, it was satisfying.

“Mmm.” You murmured, stepping a little closer. “I think you liked it.”

Jake didn’t respond, he couldn’t. You were closer now, not enough to touch, but gods, it was close. He could see every detail of you, the way your lips parted as you breathed, the faint blush rising to your cheeks, the slight rinse and fall of your chest, you beautiful, perfect body.

And you were watching him, really watching him. Not just for his words, but for every breath he took. The air filled with tension, desire, something unbereable.

“You’re tense.” You said softly, eyes dropping to his clenched jaw.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You took another step forward, the tips of your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, not enought to count as a touch, but just enough to promise one. His body tensed, his gaze locked with yours, intense, deep.

“You’ve been acting like you’re unaffected. But i see the way you look at me, Jake.”

His throat went dry, he didn’t move. If he moved, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to stop himself. He was a man with ambition, who always followed his desires. And right now, they weren’t innocent desires.

You tilted your head slightly, he fucking loved when you did that, when you acted all innocent and pure, and maybe you were, but now he was seeing right through it, and your lips now were barely a breath from his.

“Say it.” You whispered, challenging him, once again, doing the thing that drove him crazy.

Jake stared at you, jaw clenched, heart hammering. His pride screamed to hold back, to play it off, to make a cocky comment. But the desire? The desire had been clawing at his insides since the second you’d walked into his life.

“You’re driving me insane.” He said finally, low, deep voice as he spoke “And i don’t know if i want to kiss you or throw my sword at your head.”

And you laughed, soft and slow, your whole body twitching a his confession. Because you felt that too, you’d been wanting, all of it, too, to fight him again, to win again, to kiss him, to feel him.

“You want to kiss me.” You said simply.

Then, finally, he moved.

One hand reached up, cupping the side of your face. His strong, calloused thumb brushed along your jawline, slow, reverent, fingertips tickling. His other hand found your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your tank top. He looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing he’d ever faced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or surrender.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, voice rough, shaky, hot breath against yours.

“Don’t you dare.”

And he kissed you.

Not rough, not rushed. But deep, like he’d been starved for you and didn’t know how to go slow. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer. You kissed him like you knew exactly how long he’d been holding back, like you’d been holding back too.

The room spun, the rest of the world fell away.

There was only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours, the way your breaths tangled like you were trying to inhale each other. Your lips were moving above each others at a slow, almost teasing pace, like the one you had in the battlefield, dancing while little sighs left both of your mouths, hot breaths colliding. His lips were soft, plushed, and he tasted sweet, it made you tremble and you had to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, deeper. Jake whimpered, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, exploring your mouth with it and tangling it with yours, sending that familiar shiver down your spine.

He slid his hand from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your flush against him, your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. He let out a soft sound in the back of his throat, frustration, relief, desire.

When you bit gently at his lower lip, he growled.

“Gods.” he muttered into your mouth. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And you laughed against him.

In one smooth, desperate morion, he lifted you, hands gripping under your exposed thighs as you gasped, and set you up on the workbench behind you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him in. The bench creaked beneath you, old wood protesting, but neither of you cared.

Your hands then slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, palms pressed to his warm, tanned skin. You felt the tension in him, tight and coiled like a spring ready to snap. Jake kissed you like he’d been starving, like every second of restraint he’d shown since the duel had been building to this one moment. His hands were everywhere, your thighs, your waist, your back, memorising you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, lip gloss ruined, your eyes dark and bright and locked on him like he was something you couldn’t quite resist either.

“I tried not to want this.” He admitted, breath ragged.

You touched his face, gentle, detailing every inch of his gorgeous features. “I didn’t.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, smiling against your skin. “You’re too damn perfect.”

You slid your fingers through his hair again, dark brown strands between them, nail grazing lightly at his scalp. “Still think i’m just a pretty girl?”

Jake pulled back to meet your eyes again.

“No.” He said, voice low and sure “You’re dangerous, and i want more.”

And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, like he really meant it this time. Like it wasn’t just heat or revenge or rivarly anymore.

Like it was want, it was real.

And you let him, opening your mouth and recieving his wet, warm tongue, sucking it and letting out little sounds that only made him kiss you harder, his rough hands now caressing the skin of your thighs, gripping a little tight like wanting to mark his fingers, his kiss becoming sloppier, needier, he wasn’t holding back anymore. The stubborness in you had faded away, since the moment he put his lips above yours, and right now, you were going to let him do as he pleased, because you wanted that too.

So you slid your delicate, smooth hands beneath his shirt, now touching the bare skin of his abs, tracing the perfectly built lines, thanks to his training, then his chest, then down again, deleiting yourself with that soft skin, that was burning beneath your fingers, and he whimpered again, biting your lip so hard that it stinged a little, but you didn’t care, you just moaned, low, softly, and he lost his mind. Because his hands now traveled to your covered ass cheeks, squeezing them tight above the cotton of your shorts, shamelessly groping as if he’d never touched anyone before, because the sound that left his throat was different this time. And you squirmed, the shiver that once was settled on your spine moving down all the way to your core, ending up in a wetness that you couldn’t ignore.

He broke the kiss, but only to bring his face to the curve of your neck, kissing there, sucking, licking, hot and wet tongue against your skin, and you tilted your head, giving him more space, eyes closed as you sighed.

“Fuck, this damn smell.” He whispered with broken voice, lust being the only tone in it “It’s been driving me crazy.”

You bit your lip when he caught your skin between his teeth, biting, marking, slightly arching your back, your covered breasts making contact with his chest, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, practically breathless.

“You want this, right here?” he asked, deep in his heart wishing you’d say yes.

And of course, you nodded, fluttering your eyelashes in that way that made his knees weak.

So he wasted no time, grabbing the hem of your tank top and lifting it over your shoulders, sliding it out of you with desperation, your bare, perfect breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the air made contact with them. And his face, he looked completely wrecked as he admired you. Dark, lustful but shiny eyes taking in every inch of your body. He was sure that you were Aprhodite herself brought to life.

His face buried in your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts and tongue licking and sucking into the other, and you moaned high pitched, arching your back again and gripping his hair wanting to feel him closer, your whole body shivering, the wetness between your legs now completely impossible to ignore. The sound of his mouth against your skin combining with your whimpers, your legs trembling, no man had ever touched you like that before, like worshipping you.

“J-Jake…” you moaned, biting your lip, eyes sparkling filled with need and desire and hunger.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He whispered, not letting go of your nipple, hand squeezing. “I’d let you ruin my whole life.”

That was the hottest thing someone had ever said to you, and you whimpered, stretching your hand so you could touch him again, helping him slid out of his shirt, this one ending up on the floor along your tank top. And the sight was breath taking, his glistening, tanned skin, his toned abs, his pumped chest, the veins in his arms. He was a god too, you were sure about that. Your hand ended up sliding beneath his cargo pants, palm making contact with his already hardened member, and he growled again, thrusting his hips needfully to meet with your touch. He was thick, hard, throbbing through his boxers, and you whimpered again when he did the same to you, manly hand finding your clothed pussy, rubbing his fingers against you, your wetness noticeable through the thin, laced fabric of your underwear.

"Do you taste just as sweet as you smell?" He whispered, in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe, you didn't respond, not being able too, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your legs threatened to close, but he kept his other hand on your kneee, forcing you open, thumb rubbing circles against your swollen, clothed clit. Then, in just a second, your back crashed with the wall as he slid down your shorts, and underwear, throwing them on the floor and just taking a second to admire you. Your face was red, you were now naked, there, in the armory, in front of him, and the look in his eyes was completely different. He was broken. His gaze trailed down your body, your breasts, your torso, between your legs, your beautiful, heavenly pussy in front of him, dripping, wet, glistening, needy.

He didn't say anything, he couldn't find the words to even try to describe you. So he knelt down, like a mortal in his favourite goddess altar, hands gripping your thighs, tight, he wet his lips with his tongue, and your hands found his hair again, he closed his eyes as you caressed him. Few seconds passed, and he leaned in, face buried between your legs, looking so gorgeous, but so fucked. And then, a long, soaked, warm lick, his tongue traced a slow line in your folds, and you screamed, throwing your head back. And the sound he let out, was almost unnatural.

Jake kept his eyes closed as he sucked your clit, tongue tracing circles before starting to suck you, tasting you, swallowing you, devouring you. He ate you out like an starved man, spitting and licking and whining against your soaked pussy, nose rubbing with your aching clit, and you could only whimper and moan, rocking your hips into his face, begging him to never stop. And he wouldn't dare, because you were the sweetest thing he'd ever put in his mouth, in that moment, he wanted to die between your legs. His face was a mess, chin soaked in your arousal, cheeks red, eyes still closed. One finger found your entrance, sliding between your walls so good and your pussy clenched around it, the wood beneath your body completely soaked, sticky with your sweat and fluids.

"So sweet." He whispered, his hot breath crashing with the skin of your inner thighs, and then he opened his eyes, dark gaze locked with yours.

His finger thrusted inside and out of you, lips wrapped around your clit, and you whined, your legs shaking, twitching, trembling, sweat starting to fall down your forehead. Second finger slid, curling inside of you, stretching you so good, brushing teasing your g-spot.

“G-Gods.” You whined, pulling strands of his hair.

Jake then stood up again, cleaning his lips with his palm before devouring your mouth again, and you could taste yourself in his hot mouth, your dripping pussy still pulsing, clenching around nothing. But not for too long, because he slid two of his fingers inside of you again, deep, hard, rough, now really fucking you with them, curling them and bumping them into your g-spot over and over again, spreading your walls, soaking them with your fluids.

“Fuck, you’re leaking.” his voice was so weak, so broken. “Can’t wait to feel you. Been wanting this since you called me out with that beautiful face.”

Palm was crashing with your clit, fingers moving in and out fast, the wet sounds and moans being the only ones in the hot, barely illuminated room. Your whole body tensed, showered in pleasure.

Then Jake pulled them out, and you whined, teary eyes looking at him like really full of desire, of want, of need. And he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you were so perfect, so gorgeous. So made for him.

So he finally, finally took his member out, throbbing, thick, hard, veins popped up, red tip leaking, he was full of need too. And your eyes shined, your mouth watered, the lust taking you over. He didn’t wait much, he couldn’t, so he stroked himself a few times, jaw clenched and hisses through his teeth, he rubbed his tip between your folds, teasing you and himself, one hand gripped to your waist, marking. And then, he slowly slid in, and you grabbed his shoulders for balance, because the feeling crushed your brain and body, his thick length stretching you as good as his fingers, deep, slow, you watched as it disappeared inside of you. And he groaned, low, eyes sticked to yours, thrusting his hips a few times, still at a slow pace, like not wanting the sensation to go away so fast.

“Fucking hell” he bit his lip, moaning. “You’re so tight, this is the most perfect pussy ever.”

You let out a cry once his thrusts became faster, rougher, skins crashing making an obscene sound as his cock disappeared inside of you, his eyes sticked to your face, not wanting to miss any of the expressions you were making, your beautiful, perfect face ruined by the pleasure. But he was no different, his jaw tight, his eyebrows frowned, hisses leaving his parted lips as he moaned and growled like an animal. The once perfectly made braid in your hair was now messy, a few strands sticked to your face, your eyes teary, your forehead full with sweat, your lips sore because of how much you were biting them.

One hand cupped your breast again, squeezing hard, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, of your perfect body. And the other found your aching, swollen clit, messy circles at the pace of his thrusts, he rolled his hips harder into you, going so deep, you could feel him in every inch of your insides, the pleasure showering you, your brain completely shut down. You moaned high pitched, hiding your face in the curve of his neck, eyes closed as you saw stars.

“You like it?” he asked, a smirk in his lips, his cocky nature still in him, breathless, between thrusts “Tell me, please, need to hear you say it, princess.”

The nickname wasn’t sarcastic anymore, it was affection in it, worship, devotion.

And you whined against his skin, filling your lungs with his sweaty, manly smell, nodding, desperate, needy.

“Y-Yes. Please don’t stop.”

So using his incredible strength, he pulled out, but he made you put your feet on the ground, flipping you over so your chest was now against the wood of the counter, and he slid in again, grabbing your hips, bumping deeper thanks to the new position, head of his cock reaching your g-spot immediately, and you cried against the surface as tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. His thighs crashed against your asscheeks, his movements now sloppier, erratic, he was really fucking you now.

But to be fair, you fucked him first, just in a different way.

He kissed down your back, everywhere, sucking too, wanting to mark every inch of your soft skin, and you arched your back, thrusting backwards meeting with his hips, nails scratching the wood beneath you.

This wasn’t just fucking. This was him discharging all of his frustration and anger in you, but not in bad way, in a i fucking trust you and worship you as a goddess way. And it was driving you crazy, you had the strongest man in camp moaning your name and mind-fucked and wanting to die inside of you.

Jake’s hand placed your braid over your shoulder, now kissing your neck again, whispering sweet words in your ear, voice wrecked and weak, crushed by his own moans and groans.

“You’re so perfect. I wanna worship you all my life. I want you to see me, to humiliate me again, i don’t care, i’d fight with you all the time just to keep your eyes on me.” He was mumbling, completely pussy drunk. But you were too, because he stretched you so good, because the warmth of his weigth was just too much, you sniffed through your nose, whining.

“J-Jake…” you moaned again, the knot on your lower belly starting to built. And he understood, because his fingers brushed your clit again, fast, rough. Your legs were trembling, your knees weak, the air so hot, you felt like you were about to pass out.

He grabbed your throat, not hard enough to choke, just to hold, to make you raise your head so he could kiss you again, dirty, sloppy, angry. His tongue explored your mouth once again, and his movements were completely erratic, senseless, he was close too. A few drops of his sweat soaked your face, combining with the saliva falling from the corner of your mouths. The way we kissed you, the way he touched you, the way he fucked you. Not only made you whimper because you were an Aprhodite girl, not only because it flattered you, but because it was him.

And you broke, body completely wrecked, back arched as you screamed so high pitched and came all around his cock, the orgasm taking you over, your pussy dripping, clenched tight around him, your heart racing, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He came too, because the look of your climax was just the peak of perfection in his eyes, and he didn’t hold himself back, guttural groan leaving his throat as his orgasm made him leak inside of you, warm, creamy fluids filling you up, thrusts becoming slower, weaker, his pulsing cock discharging all of his pleasure.

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds, he didn’t pull out, didn’t move, part because he couldn’t, part because he didn’t want to. You felt his lips on your cheek, sweet, slow, his breath making your skin jump. But you couldn’t move either, you didn’t feel like yourself, the whole room was spinning, your body felt like floating. You sighed deeply, trying to regain balance.

Then Jake finally pulled out, slow, and his cum dripped between your folds, and down your legs. His eyes sparkled, the view just so perfect for him to handle.

“Are you ok?” He asked softly, grabbing your waist so you’d stood up, his eyes were still lit up.

You cleaned the sweat of your face with your hands, trying but failing to fix your hair. Then you smiled, same sweetness as ever. Even after he literally fucked you.

“I think you broke me.” You joked, voice still weak, but your eyes were sparkling too, something new awakened inside of you, and him. Between you two.

Jake chuckled, still a bit breathless, but he started to pick up your clothes, shaking them because of course, you could never wear something dirty.

“Well, princess. Call that a rematch.”

And you rolled your eyes, pushing his chest surprisingly strong, he almost tripped. Then you both laughed.

He kissed you again. Sweet, soft, and you didn’t want him to stop. Ever again.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“How long are they gonna keep going with this?” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes and resting his head on your little sister’s shoulder, her smiling, amused by the scene in front of them.

The sun hung lazily over camp Halfblood’s training field, glints of sunlight off polished bronze blades. A few kids crowded at the edge of the ring, sitting on logs and leaning over the rails, whispering at each other.

“They’re still going.”

“Twenty minutes.” A Hermes camper confirmed, eyes locked on the fight. “And they haven’t stopped once.”

You stood across from Jake, your sword poised gracefully, a bead of sweat running down the side of your face, your stance was perfect, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted, eyes sharp.

Jake… was smiling.

“Tired, princess?” He asked, circling you slowly.

“You wish, hero.” you shot back, shifting your grip. “I could do this all day.”

“Yeah?” Jake twirled his sword lazily “You gonna keep staring at me or actually fight?”

“Hard to fight someone when they’re too busy admiring themselves”

Your sisters went oooh. And Jake smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Your blades met with a clash, steel, sparkling, footwork fluid and fast. But it wasn’t just training. You had a rythym now, a dance you both knew by heart. Teasing swipes, parried blows, a spin that brought you two almost chest to chest.

“You’re holding back.” Jake whispered low enough for only you to hear, breath brushing your cheek.

“So are you.” you whispered back, voice like silk. “What are you afraid of?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lunged, and you spun. Your blades locked high, too high. One step, a slip. Your foot caught the edge of the sand pit, Jake reached out instinctively, grabbing your waist.

You fell.

Right onto the training mat, you landing on top of him with a surprised gasp, tangled up in his limbs and laughter.

Neither of you moved.

You hovered over him, bracing your hands on his chest, his heart pounding beneath your palms.

“You ok?” You asked softly.

“Perfect.” Jake breathed, but his eyes were fixated on your lips.

There was a beat, a long, electric pause. No teasing, no taunts. Just tension, want. Something warm and stupid and real blooming in his chest.

And then he leaned up, meeting you halfway.

The kiss was soft at first, just a brush of lips, like a secret shared in plain sight. But then it deepened, slow and certain.

Until you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours.

“Still think we’re just sparring?” you murmured, teasing smile in your voice.

Jake grinned. “Definitely not.”

From the sidelines, Jay, one of his brothers shouted.

“Get a cabin!”

But Jake reached up, brushed a strand from your face, and smirked. Eyes sparkly, lost, completely in love.

“I told you i’d win.”

“I let you fall.” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get cocky.”

taglist

@gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon @koizekomi

thank you so much for reading!! hope you enjoyed <3 it would help me a lot if you liked/repost but i’m happy knowing that someone even read this !!

heeseung’s drabble next !!

[stxrlightcxstl3]

✦ katsuki bakugo headcannons ✦

~ all sfw, fem!reader, confession -> established relationship ~ these are just my personal headcannons from across the years, just wanted to share ❤︎

✦ bakugou isn't good with confessions of any kind. so when he finally decided to pull his balls out of his back pocket and tell you how he felt, his confession was a handmade bento at your door with a rose and a note that read :

you're a good fighter, so eat up and get stronger. also i want to go out with you - bakugo

it looked rushed, nervous almost, but it was sweet

✦ bakugou is such a simp for pet names, but he never lets it show. "baby" "sweetheart" "love" makes him MELT, but he can't let it show at all, he has to keep up the hard exterior in front of everyone else. but best believe, behind closed doors, he's blushing like a mad man

✦ he loves hand and foot massages. he was hesitant when you offered to rub his hands and feet at first, because he didn't want to hurt you at all, but it felt so good. now after a long day of classes and training, he gives you his hands as a way of asking for the massages.

✦ he's the type to fall asleep during horror movies. "shit was boring. 's not my fault there are better horror movies" he's unashamed, offers up better horror movies, and usually has you explain the movie to him later anyways.

✦ his mom loves you like a daughter, and he's secretly glad about it. not only does it "get the old hag off his back" (his words), he's glad that you're so welcomed in the family. he says he doesn't wanna visit home, but plans extra trips because he knows much you and his mom get along

✦ he doesn't call you a lot of pet names, but the one he does call you is bombshell. he picked it up from his mom and uses it as your contact name. he says that he's the bomb and you're his shell. you like knowing there's a special name that only the two of you know.

this is my first post, ahhh >w< i hope yall enjoyed and i plan on posting a bit more the rest of this week!

all works ©stxrlightcxstl3 do not copy, translate, feed to AI, or post any of my work as your own.

[formulaonecrumbs]

Could you do Lando x older sister reader when she and the rest of family goes to support him on his first karting race?

a champion from the start 🏅

Lando Norris x older sister!reader

summary: the norris family rally around lando for his very first kart race. he’s nervous, but his big sister’s encouragement is all he needs.

warnings: nervous baby lando. all fluffy.

A/N: not much to say but THANK U FOR THE REQUEST ANOONNN!!!! I LOVE U. ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

home film #12 (out of a gazillion)- found in a cardboard box labelled ‘memories’

(recorded: buckmore park, chatham, kent)

timestamp: 12:11 pm 04-11-2006

the video opens a little shaky, the lens catching the early morning sun flaring across a patchy little kart track. the sky is bright blue, not a cloud in sight. you can hear flo giggling somewhere off-screen and the crinkle of food wrappers as your mum tries to pass out sandwiches nobody wants to eat yet.

then—there he is. tiny lando. a whole head shorter than most of the other kids, wearing a racing suit that still looks a bit too big for him. his helmet is tucked awkwardly under his arm, his other hand clinging tight to the strap of his backpack. he’s bouncing slightly on his toes, nerves practically pouring off him.

“look at him,” ollie’s voice says from behind the camera. “he’s gonna pee himself.”

you swat him off-screen. “shut up, ollie, he’s gonna do great.”

the lens zooms too close suddenly, a shaky shot of lando’s face. he’s trying to look brave. he really is. but he keeps glancing sideways at the older kids already sitting in their karts, engines rumbling. he grips his helmet tighter.

you step into the frame, squatting down a little to meet his eye level.

“hey,” you say, grinning up at him. “you ready, champ?”

lando bites his lip and shrugs, looking suddenly very small under all the gear.

“you’re gonna smash it,” you tell him, totally serious, like you’re talking to an f1 driver and not your seven-year-old baby brother. “you’ve been practicing loads. remember when you beat me around the garden?”

lando’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.

“and if you get scared,” you add, lowering your voice like it’s a secret just between the two of you, “just pretend you’re racing me. and you wanna beat me so bad you drive like a rocket.”

he finally laughs—a small, shy laugh—and nods.

flo runs into frame, nearly tripping over her own feet, waving a handmade cardboard sign that says “GO LANDO!!!” in messy glitter glue. cisca, still in her stroller, shrieks something incomprehensible but happy.

lando grins properly then, the nerves pushed back by all the noise and love.

“i’ll be really fast,” he promises, looking at you more than anyone else.

you give him a big thumbs up and ruffle his hair until he bats your hand away, laughing.

cut.

the next shot catches him climbing awkwardly into the little kart, a marshall helping him strap in. he looks once over his shoulder, towards the fence where you and the rest of the family are crowded.

you’re the one who waves first—both arms, big and exaggerated so he can see you from all the way over there. ollie shouts “don’t crash!” and you smack him again off-screen, your voice overlapping, “ignore him! go smash it!”

cut.

the final clip: the flag waves. the little engines roar. the karts zoom off like a swarm of bees. lando’s one of the smallest ones out there, his kart wobbling a little around the first corner, but he’s determined. you can hear your parents yelling encouragement, flo screaming random words, and you—you’re the loudest.

“go, lando! go!” you yell, bouncing up and down, hands cupped around your mouth. the camcorder can barely keep up, wobbling wildly trying to catch a glimpse of him through the crowd.

at the very end of the clip, he crosses the finish line—not first, not even top three—but you’d think he won the world championship with how you all react. the camera goes blurry as it jerks upward, someone (probably you) running to the fence to meet him.

and somewhere underneath all the shouts and claps, you can hear it: your voice, proud and so sure—

“told you, champ. you’re the best.”

THE END :>

[master-muffinn]

Shadow x reader, Rouge x reader. Relationship headcanons

No warnings, just some fluff <3

Shadow the hedgehog

🏍️ I feel like a relationship with Shadow would take time, with a lot of trust and knowledge between you two. Of course you will always learn something new about one another, but even if you're his soulmate that he recently met, he wouldn't be lovely dovely and date a stranger out of the blue. Unless you account it as dating when he is slowly trying to get to know you. 

🏍️ Even if you've been together for a while and physical touch starting to become a thing, he sees himself as the big spoon .always. because that's what the strong one does to keep their lover safe. Until you take the opportunity to hug and hold him when Shadow is exhausted.

Kiss his forehead and caress his cheeks! 

Of course Shadow would blush the whole time but also realize how nice it actually is and wanting more of it! Touch starved Shadow discovered!

🏍️ I can't see Shadow as a ‘buy you flowers and go and eat at a fancy restaurant’ kinda dude. More like shutting yourselves inside each other's house and doing whatever and minding your own business and not caring wtf others do. As long as he can be with you it doesn't matter to him. Like a Quality time type of hedgehog. 

🏍️ A ‘fancy’ date to him would be going outside under the stars in the late evening, holding hands and having deep conversations and afterwards going to his/your home, warming yourselves up with tea or hot chocolate. Those dates are what Shadow would love the most.

Rouge the bat

💍 Rouge will prognose you with the dear and honey language. “Y/n dear~” “What do you think, Honey?” 

💍 Fancy restaurants and nicely dressed up with a bouquet of roses, yes! Her favorite types of dates!

💍 Is a gift giver and a gift receiver. As we know, she loves gems and shiny things and receives these gifts from you, her lover? It would mean so much more for her and you will know it! 

But of course, she also loves your homemade gifts made from your own hands. A drawing? Wood Carved necklace? Home made sweet's? Poems?

Rouge loves the fact that you think about her and would take so much of your free time and make her something special.❤️

(Honestly tho, who wouldn't love handmade gifts from your lover?)

💍 Rouge would also give you lots of gifts with gems, rings, necklace, earrings depending on what you seem to like the most and yes, you have to wear some of them too! Because that shows her that you appreciate what she does for you! 

Unless you tell her you don't want to lose them because it's too precious for you. Then she might accept it as long as you wear something on your days off or when you are spending time with her, so that Rouge can cuddle with you. Playing with your rings and admiring them.

“It looks very lovely on you dear~!”

Thank you for reading! Have a good day! ❤ Reblogs are very appreciated 🥰

Post made by @master-muffinn

[ririright]

“Happy Mother’s Day”

Husband! Hayden x Wife Reader (Headcannons)

❤︎ Hayden’s Secret Planning

He starts planning weeks in advance, sneakily asking your son what he thinks you’d like or what you’ve mentioned wanting lately.

Makes a secret Pinterest board (with the username “SocksAndSmiles”) full of gift ideas, recipes, and cute surprises.

Even asks the animals on the farm for their opinions while feeding them. “Alright, Daisy, think she’d like breakfast in bed or a picnic by the pond?”

❤︎ Early Morning Surprise

You wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of hushed whispers outside the bedroom door.

Hayden walks in, balancing a breakfast tray with pancakes (heart-shaped, because of course), scrambled eggs, and a little vase with freshly picked wildflowers.

Your son follows behind, carrying a handmade card with his wobbly handwriting and crayon drawings of your family.

“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart,” Hayden says with that soft, boyish grin, leaning down to kiss you.

❤︎ Handmade Gifts from the Heart

Hayden’s not just about store-bought presents. He makes you a handcrafted photo frame from reclaimed wood, painting it with a soft rustic finish and filling it with a candid picture of you with your son by the pond.

Your son, with Hayden’s help, paints little animal footprints on the back, with the words “We love you, Mama.”

Sometimes he writes you a sweet, heartfelt letter telling you how grateful he is for everything you do. His words are full of admiration and love, and he gets embarrassed when you cry reading it.

❤︎ A Day of No Chores

You’re not allowed to lift a finger. Hayden insists.

He takes over all your usual tasks—feeding the animals, cleaning the house, even taking over any little messes the kids make.

If you try to help, he swoops in and picks you up, carrying you to the couch. “Nope, you’re on a break today, Mrs. Christensen.”

❤︎ A Special Farm Adventure

If the weather’s nice, Hayden suggests a picnic by the pond. He spreads out a big, cozy blanket, and your son brings his favorite stuffed animal to join the picnic.

You watch as Hayden skips rocks across the water with your son, and your heart melts at how good he is with him.

He brings a tiny Bluetooth speaker, plays your favorite soft songs, and you all just relax together, the farm animals wandering around nearby.

❤︎ The “Mommy Spa” Experience

In the evening, he draws you a warm bath, filling it with rose petals and a lavender-scented bubble bath.

He even lights candles (which he immediately worries are a fire hazard, so he keeps checking them).

When you step out, he’s already set up the bedroom with fresh sheets, and there’s a soft robe waiting for you.

He gives you a foot rub while you both watch one of your favorite movies.

❤︎ Quiet, Sweet Moments

You wake up from a nap to find your son curled up beside you, and Hayden standing in the doorway, just watching with a soft smile.

Later, when your son has gone to bed, Hayden pulls you into his lap, kisses your shoulder, and whispers, “You’re an amazing mom, you know that?”

He loves tracing gentle patterns on your back while you two talk about how lucky you are to have each other.

❤︎ The Mother’s Day Cake Disaster (Almost)

Hayden and your son try to bake you a cake, but there’s flour everywhere, and the batter somehow ends up on the ceiling.

You hear a loud “Uh-oh…” from the kitchen and walk in to see them both covered in flour, Hayden looking like a guilty golden retriever.

He’s ready to apologize, but you just laugh and join them, and the three of you end up having a messy, flour-filled hug.

The cake is a little lopsided, but it tastes amazing, and they both beam with pride when you take a bite.

❤︎ Your Own Personal Concert

After your son goes to bed, Hayden sits at his piano and serenades you in the living room.

He sings your favorite love song, his voice a little shy at first but growing more confident as he sees your soft smile.

You curl up against him, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, sweetheart. I hope you know that.”

❤︎ Late-Night Pillow Talk

At the end of the day, you’re both lying in bed, and he’s tracing little circles on your shoulder.

“You know, I don’t tell you enough… You’re the reason this family is as happy as it is. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

You lean in and kiss him, and he smiles against your lips.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby. I love you more than I could ever put into words.”

[darkblueindigo]

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. . .

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

────୨ৎ────

˗ˏˋ 📖 ─── 🌼 .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

❤︎──── ❛❛reader x dick grayson.❞

ᯓ★

Summary: going out with some friends and coming home to a beautiful view

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

ᯓ★| ❛❛ you were walking upstairs through your apartment building, thinking the stairs were a better option because the elevator was full.

You were wrong. Your legs were numb after you and your girlfriends went out for a shopping spri and catch up a little. It was fine, but all the numbing and exhaustion was not.

You just wanted to go home lay in bed and watch Netflix until you couldn't even feel your own body.

You made it to your apartment that you shared with dick and your little pit bull, Haley. You searched for the keys in your purse you had on one hand, and when you found it, you Immediately unlocked the door and went inside.

You were welcomed by this beautiful atmosphere that was running through the whole apartment.

You kicked your heels out of your feet and threw the backs on the floor and ran to the kitchen. When you arrived in the kitchen, you saw a dick with his back infront of you, singing your favorite song, and Haley with her tongue out looking at him clueless.

When Haley turned her head to the other direction she saw you, and started barking with happiness, That's when dick turns around and saw you.

He smiled at you and noticed your tired expression, he stopped what he was doing and walked to you.

"Who was your day with the girls?" He asked while giving you a hug you really needed.

"It was fun, but so tiring, I can't feel my legs, can you imagine?".

"What did you expect with the heels you wore? Now suck it up" he pointed out playfully, he didn't Mean any harm and you knew it.

"Yeah, yeah, what are you making there, Chef grayson?"

"Pasta...though you'll be hungry after a day out"

"Thought? I am hungry"

"I know, that's why I made pasta"

You both looked at each other and you turned again to see his face.

"You better put cheese on my pasta"

"Notted babe"

He said and winked at you and turned back to the food that he was making.

You ran to the bedroom with Haley following behind, to go Change and take off your makeup.

Haley was laying on the bed, her back was touching the mattress as she watched you pull your hair into a messy bun.

When you got your messy bun you ran out of the bedroom with half following behind, you arrived at the kitchen and you were greeted with the smell of pasta, and a handmade dinner.

Dick was just about to serve your own portion. You sat in the chair like there was no tomorrow, dick sat infront of you and you two began to eat.

Your mouth was full as you spoke up.

"Dick you are literally a damn star, I love you so much"

"I know, I love you too, pretty girl" ❞...ᯓ★

Hope you liked it ♡

Love

Chiara

...................................

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (bonus)

based off of an anonymous request to see what would happen if reader tried to escape because trust was lost🫣 this is also the 'bad ending' reposted bc 'read more' wasn't working the first time.

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader; slight fydor x fem!reader🤫

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: angst + fluff? w/ dark elements; one suggestive scene with nikolai🙈read at your own discretion!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: feelings of guilt, manipulation + violence, unhealthy relationships, slightly yandere nikolai, this is lowkey sad...😔

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: you've become an accomplice to the doa. however, you've started to grow some doubts about your situation. are you really free or just in another man's cage? not to mention the demon lurking from a distance... ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 2 & pt3 (good ending)໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 4.7k

"So, what's your husband like?" Your coworker Juliette asked, sitting in a circle with your other colleague Anaïs, passing around a box of assorted chocolates.

It had been three months. You and Nikolai had successfully infiltrated Mersault, getting more information about the space-creating ability and honing in on potential ability users. Now you were alone, working for the government's IT department--your goal was to create a breach in their database for Fyodor to get into, so he could narrow down the Decay of Angel's targets and get their information.

Anaïs scowled and gave you the chocolates, muttering a word about how she was "low-sugar" before she primped her hair, preparing to brag, "Well, y'know, Louis takes me shopping and buys me new jewelry whenever I want. He just got me a new puppy, too, and he's the cutest little pomeranian!" You giggled a bit as Juliet pouted in envy, "Oh--and he's taking this weekend off, so we can go to the islands together!" You popped a caramel-filled square in your mouth as Juliet rolled her eyes playfully.

"You spoiled princess...Antoine spends all his money on the kids--plus he only gets one weekend off a month and always brings them to our romantic date nights..." Your coworker sighed dramatically, pretending like she wasn't equally as doting over her children, whose pictures and handmade gifts were all around her cubicle.

Ah, children, families, frequent romantic dates, marriage...those were all traditional things you gave up after running away with Nikolai.

You were lost in your thoughts as you popped another rich candy into your mouth--this one being filled with a creamy pistachio ganache that tasted a bit too artificial and made you cringe. Juliette called your name to snap you out of your daze.

"Well, what about you? What's your husband like?" She leaned forward and stared curiously at you, waiting for you to share your little gossip. You chewed slowly, trying to process the question as Anaïs nudged her friend's side lightly.

"Juliette, are you blind?! The girl doesn't have a ring on her finger--certainly she must have a man though--I mean look at her--she's a stunner." Your eyes widened at that as you twirled your wig hair and fixed your fake disguise glasses.

"Oh, well, Anaïs is right, I do have a...lover." Lover...you and Nikolai had never really put an official label on your relationship. You described Nikolai--dubbed as "Nikolas"--to the two other women, trying to stay as true as possible while not revealing his true identity.

Juliet winked at you, "Do you guys have sex? Is he rough, soft, kinky?" She giggled as Anaïs side-eyed her for her childish behavior.

You blushed, well, at least you could answer this question in earnest, "Yeah...he's good...really good." You covered your face briefly, feeling heat in your cheeks when you remembered your little Mersault moments. "But we haven't done anything in a while since he's away on a...work trip." You smiled sadly at that, despite missions being the new norm, you couldn't deny feeling lonely and missing Nikolai constantly.

"Ohhhhh?" Juliette and Anaïs exchanged coy looks, "You need that man to marry you before he leaves you...trust me, darling, I would know." Anaïs said, touching up her lipstick, "You wouldn't want to get knocked up and left alone, would you? Men are too unfaithful these days..."

Yeah, you knew all about that first hand.

You were about to interject until you supervisor knocked on the wall of the space you three were having lunch in. "Lunch break's over. Get back to work, ladies." You all got up slowly, and you held onto the box of chocolates, offering some pieces to Juliette before taking it back to your work desk and putting your headset on.

"You shouldn't eat so many chocolates, ptichka, you'll get a sugar crash." You straightened your back suddenly upon hearing the sultry, russian man's voice in your headset. Fyodor. He usually gave you instructions privately to hack into the system, but he normally only talked to you for mission purposes.

Rolling your eyes, you popped a sweet milk chocolate heart into your mouth, "Hush, I'm stressed. And how did you know? Are you watching me or something?" You looked up by the ceilings to glare into the nearby security cameras.

Fyodor only laughed on the other side. "Oh, milaya, I'm always watching you." Shivers ran down your spine as his voice faded out and you were back to staring at your log-in screen.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You waved goodbye to your coworkers as greeted Ivan--your personal chauffeur--and stepped into the backseat of the car, staring out the tinted window. The car was stopped at a red light when you noticed an animated billboard broadcasting a clip of the news. It was your parents and your in-laws begging for any information about you or your husband's disappearances and the award for either of your safe returns. While that didn't bother you at first--after all, your parents just saw you as a pawn they could marry away for a sound investment, and your in-laws didn't treat you much better either--you couldn't help but feel some remorse from their desperate pleas.

You knew what had happened to your husband--you and Nikolai had killed him. As much as you didn't want to admit it, his death was starting to haunt you. The eerie silence after you'd pulled the trigger and the horrible state he was in before replayed in your dreams, and it didn't help that your lover wasn't there to comfort you anymore. Especially now that Sigma was busy managing the Sky Casino, and you had to work your 9-5 office job, you really had no one to talk to openly. No one...except for Fyodor.

"Welcome back, milashka." Fyodor greeted you as you slipped off your heels upon entering the base. You smiled awkwardly at him, freeing your hair from the wig and slipping your glasses back into your purse. "How was work today?"

"Good...as always...you would know that, though since you're always watching me." You teased, still a bit shaken by what he'd said.

Despite how cold and reluctant he was towards you at first, you'd somehow gotten closer since it was basically just you two at the base. He'd held up his promise and gave you plenty of books to read, so you often talked about literature, which usually lead to deeper conversations. Additionally, although he never addressed you by your name like Sigma, he started giving you russian pet names--some of which were uncannily similar to the ones Nikolai would call you. You tried not to pay it much mind--it was probably some weird power dynamic thing--but you couldn't help but notice how he hid the nicknames and subtle flirting around Nikolai.

Fyodor motioned towards the small table by the fireplace, "I made some tea. Would you care to join me, ptichka? He smirked as you sighed and sat down next to him--you swore the chairs were closer than usual. You pulled the box of chocolates out of your purse and set them down next to a blue and white porcelain tea cup. You poured yourself some black tea before taking another chocolate, this one being filled with strawberry cream. You sulked after seeing a drawing of a happy family on the box, drawing Fyodor's attention. "Is anything on your mind, milaya? You seem bothered."

You eyed him curiously, surprised that he cared to listen to you. You figured you needed to get it off your chest, though, so you opened up, "Well...it's just that I've been alone lately with Nikolai gone, and I've been feeling like maybe this life isn't exactly for me..." You trailed off, a bit panicked when you saw a blank, stoic look on Fyodor's face. You put your hands up defensively, "N-not like I don't want to be a part of the Decay of Angels anymore, but just that I want more out of my life in the future."

Fyodor crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand, gazing down at you, intrigued, "Go on."

You gulped, "I get so jealous when my coworkers talk about their families and settling down, going on fun vacations, or having daily board game nights...How they can speak so freely about their lives, while I have to live a lie and walk past my missing posters every day...I-I don't have anyone to come home to anymore, either..." You could feel tears start to cloud your vision as you looked down, never speaking this passionately before. You were sure you looked pathetic.

Your eyes widened as you felt Fyodor's frail fingers come up to wipe away your tears and brush across your cheek before landing on top of your hands. They were cold, not as warm as Nikolai's but at least somewhat comforting.

"Perhaps it isn't a different lifestyle you crave, but a sense of belonging and security." Fyodor started, bringing his face a bit closer to yours. "Your heart desires a deeper connection with those around you. After all, you abandoned everyone you knew before and suddenly went into an entirely different life. It's only normal that you would feel distressed after a while. You need comfort--and I'm sure that some part of you wants to give your parents some closure about your disappearance."

Fyodor was being...sympathetic? It was almost scary how well he could describe what you were feeling, along with how surprisingly empathetic he acted. You had quickly learned that he had little regard for others or for defective subordinates.

You looked up at him, "It's not just that, though. Even though it's selfish, I want Nikolai to marry me--or at least make things more serious and clear between us..." You didn't notice Fyodor slightly frowning at that as you continued, "He's just been away for so long, and it's not like I don't trust him, but he really has no obligation to stay loyal to me, and I've already been cheated on before...There's no way I can fall in love with another man being a double agent, so I need to know if he plans on us being long-term or not..." Rambling out the rest of your feelings, Fyodor stroked your hand slowly, his smug smile returning on his face.

"You should tell him that, then. If you speak from your heart and tell him the truth, I'm sure he'll listen to you. After all, he'd fulfill your desires if he really loved you." You pouted.

"But it's Nikolai...at the end of the day, he lives by his own convictions and philosophy."

Fyodor clicked his tongue, "If he loved you, he'd compromise." You weren't quite convinced, but you flinched when he brought your hand up and placed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. "Good luck, milashka." As soon as it happened, he was gone as he dismissed himself and left you alone at the table. You didn't know how to think or process the conversation as you lightly slapped away the faint blush across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Another long day of work had concluded as you wished your coworkers a good weekend and walked out the door. It had been two weeks since your conversation with Fyodor, but it was all that was on your mind. You really needed to talk to Nikolai soon.

Wait. Was that Ivan...holding a bouquet of flowers? Not just any flowers either--they were the same lavender roses you'd been gifted by your ex-patient in the asylum courtyard.

Ivan only gave you his usual twisted smile and laughter before handing you the bouquet as you shot him a questioning look. You muttered a quiet "thank you" as you got into the backseat and stared out the window again, smelling the fragrant roses and replaying Fyodor's words in your head.

It didn't hit you that the road you were traveling on was unfamiliar until the car suddenly came to a stop, and you realized you were in an abandoned alleyway. Uneasiness started to settle in as your driver exited his seat, shutting the car door behind him. "Iv--"

You were interrupted when the door to the backseat flung open and closed as Ivan crawled on top of you, pushing the flowers out of your hands as he pushed his body against yours and cradled into your neck, hysterically giggling. "I-Ivan--" You struggled to shove him off you, but he was too strong, "W-what are you---"

A familiar scent stopped you from speaking as your heartbeat increased. Wait, was that--?

Ivan pulled away from your neck before tugging off his bandages, his whole appearance suddenly fading away before being replaced by...

"K-Kolya! I-It's you!" Relief washed over your face as you looked up to see your lover staring back at you, clearly satisfied from whatever prank he'd just played on you. He kissed away the tears that had formed instinctively from your fear while laughing maniacally.

"Hehe~ Did you miss me, dove? I wanted to surprise you since I just came back. Your reactions were a nice little treat~" You pouted as you looked away, embarrassed that you'd lost yet another one of Nikolai's mini games. His features softened, "I'm afraid I may have gone a bit too far though. I really missed you, myla." His warm, gloved fingers traced over your bottom lip slowly.

"M-missed you too, Kolya. So much..." You sniffled as you pulled his head down to yours, tangling your fingers into his fluffy white hair and capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Your back pushed into the car cushions as Nikolai's hands roamed your body, needy to touch you again after so long--especially since he couldn't contact you. He fumbled with the buttons on your thick coat, hands working fast to get you out of all of your layers.

He groaned into the kiss as you tugged on his locks and wrapped your legs around his waist to press him further against you. By now, he had unbuttoned your light blue blouse to reveal your pretty skin. Nikolai pulled away from the kiss gently to take you in--the sight of you all flustered in just a thin lacy bra was turning him on, evident from his growing arousal that was pushing against your tights.

"Fuck, dove, you're so beautiful..." He dipped back to leave messy hickeys on your neck, whispering in your ear before slowly working his way down, "Your skin's so soft...were you touching yourself while I was away, pryntsesa?" You moaned at that, whining when his hand starting rubbing circles from your hips to your inner thigh, getting dangerously close. The trail of wet kisses traveled down your collarbone and your breasts to your stomach and eventually stopping where the waistband of your black skirt and tights laid. He was panting lightly at this point, devoid of air from worshipping your body. "It wasn't enough, though, was it? You need me to feel good, myla~" He heaved, his face pink and strands of hair falling over his eyes. His fingers hooked around your clothes and he resumed his trail of kisses, about to strip you.

"If he loved you, he'd compromise."

Fyodor's words hit you as you stopped Nikolai, lightly pushing yourself up again. "W-wait, Nikolai, I want to talk to you about something." He grunted, annoyed like a little kid, his bulge still pressing against you.

"Can it wait? I didn't bring you to this abandoned, sketchy alley for nothing, ptashka." You pulled away further, to his disappointment, and pulled your knees up against your body, pouting sadly.

"I know, but it's something that's been on my mind since you've been gone", Nikolai only sighed impatiently as you pleaded, "I promise it won't take too long..." You put your hand over Nikolai's, and he obliged reluctantly, sitting up a small distance away from you.

"Cockblocker...make it quick." He muttered, and you tried not to be immature and giggle. This was supposed to be a serious conversation.

You cleared your throat, "Well, I was just wondering about us...and our relationship..." You flinched when you saw Nikolai's eyes bore into you, "I-It's not what you think---I love you and want to stay with you, but, are we..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed and unsure about what to say next. You looked down, mind a muddled mess, but you tried to remember Fyodor's advice.

"A-are we ever going to get married? Settle down and maybe start a family? Move somewhere nice and peaceful, where we can just enjoy each other's company?" Your mind went back to Anaïs and her husband, as you slowly started to look back up, "Go on a vacation together to the islands? Or your home coun--"

"No." Nikolai's dark gaze cut into you, stopping you from speaking any further. "Why would you want that, dove?"

You could feel your heart shattering. This wasn't how you thought he would respond. He was supposed to understand you, to listen to you, to compromise.

"I want a future with you, Kolya, that's why..." You started sadly, throat feeling constricted.

"But we're already together right now, myla. Isn't that enough for you?" Nikolai replied apathetically, his expression stoic and unreadable.

"It's--but my husband cheated on me, so I have to know if you're serious about us. I don't want to be in an unstable relationship anymore." Tears pricked your eyes, threatening to spill out as you could feel your heart breaking, "Anyways, you could just cheat on me, too. You're barely even around anymore, and I'm sure that you're always surrounded by beautiful women...All my coworkers are already married and in a happy relationship, so I feel so behind..."

"Oh, so that's why? Because society's telling you to live that way? Because you want to be accepted and imitate everyone else? That's the exact life I was trying to escape from, dove." Nikolai butted back, smiling cruelly.

"N-no! That's not--" You cried out, not being able to hold in the tears. Nikolai frowned and looked up from your face, reaching up towards your head.

"That hat? When did you get that?" He glared up at the white ushanka on your head. It resembled a certain someone's too closely.

You sniffled, "T-this? It's a gift from Fyodor. 'Cause it's getting cold out." Nikolai furrowed his brows in jealously upon hearing that name.

"From Dos...he's the one who planted those ideas in your head, didn't he?" His fists tightened at the thought of Fyodor wrapping you around his finger; it was his specialty, after all.

You wiped your tears sadly as you lowly shook your head no. At this point, Fyodor seemed to be the only one who understood you. He was the one who'd told you that Nikolai would compromise if he loved you. But he didn't. Did that mean...?

"Tch. Look, myla, stay away from that man. Dos may be my friend, but I don't trust him." Seeing your sad face and lack of response angered him more and he raised his voice a bit, "Stop talking to him, dove. I'm warning you--don't you dare even look in his direction."

Your sobbing resumed as you pulled your head back into your knees, hearing the backdoor shut as Nikolai left and started driving back to the base. You heard the sound of rain in the background as you clutched the white ushanka in your arms, the fluffy hat offering you some comfort.

The ride back was silent.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Fyodor awaited you both when you finally arrived back at the base, the same sly smile on his face. "Welcome back, you two." Nikolai only glared back, holding your hand tightly. He let go suddenly and walked past Fyodor into his stone room, implying for him to follow suit.

Once Nikolai's back was turned away, Fyodor gave you a soft, concerned glance. Your nose and eyes were swollen and red from all the crying. "I'm guessing it didn't go well, milashka?" You shook your head softly, and he whispered about leaving some cookies and tea in your room. He tried to approach you, but a strong voice cut him off.

"Dos, let's talk." Nikolai menacingly called out, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. You'd never seen him this stern or angry before. He never took anything seriously, certainly you weren't an exception, right?

Fyodor shot you one last empathetic look and went into his room. You shuddered as the sound of Nikolai slamming the door and immediately yelling loudly bounced off the walls. As much as you wanted to eavesdrop, you were worn out and tired.

You retreated to your and Nikolai's shared room slowly, too exhausted to even try the tea and cookies Fyodor had thoughtfully left for you. You barely stripped off your disguise before crashing onto the bed, just wanting the day to be over.

Things with Nikolai could never go back to normal again. You wished you'd just kept your mouth shut, but you also wished Nikolai had been more open to your desires. What were you to him, anyways? And you didn't understand why he was so mad at Fyodor. He'd kept you company while Nikolai was gone, and he'd been nothing but respectful and attentive.

You groaned and tried to shut your eyes to drown out the conflicting thoughts in your head. Everything was way too complicated now. You wished things could be peaceful again. You wished you could escape.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"You want to go back home, ptichka?" Fyodor asked. You nodded in response. The next day, Nikolai was gone on another mission, never coming to your shared bed the night before or saying goodbye to you before leaving.

The russian man sighed, "That's a bad idea. You'll get caught before you know it, and once the press gets a hold of you, it'll be hard to rescue you. Plus you still have your job that could arouse suspicion."

"I know..." You started. "I just...have some amends to make...and I'll only be gone for a day or two...and stay in disguise." Liar. You didn't know why you wanted to go back, and if you were homesick or just trying to self-sabotage yourself. Either way, you knew you couldn't stay here and look at Fyodor or Nikolai any longer. Things were too tense, and you didn't know who was genuinely there for you or just manipulating you.

You couldn't trust either of them. Your plan was to either go back and get caught for your crimes or retreat to the Sky Casino for as long as possible. You bet that Sigma didn't like or trust the two men either.

Not to mention, you'd already left Nikolai a parting text, writing,

"I'm sorry. I'll always love you, Kolya. Thank you."

Not that you even knew if he'd see it, but you still wanted to say something.

"I'll help you." Fyodor finally said, making your eyes widen in surprise. "But I want to tell you something first." He took your hands and held them, running his thumb over your fingers. His touch was cold. "I admire you for wanting to confront your feelings and follow your heart. The rest of us have forgotten such feelings of humanity." He continued, "To see such a lovely, well-read woman like you leave pains me. I'll truly miss you and our intellectual conversations, milaya. So much so that I'll be awaiting your safe return."

You blushed as he kissed your gentle hands, "T-thank you, Fyodor, I'm flattered." Lying again, but you figured you would have to use your 'feminine charm' a bit to fully convince him.

He smirked subtly, "Escaping from another man's cage of lofty ideals and freedom into the outside world...Would you care to do me one last favor, milashka?" You nodded with doe eyes as he leaned into your ear.

"Give me a goodbye kiss." Shocked and flustered, you pulled away and broke contact.

Fyodor only stepped forward and held your face, his soft smile seeming more sinister now, "What's wrong, dove, you just have to kiss me, and I'll help you escape. Not a bad deal, no?" He got dangerously close to you, his hot breath fanning over your glossy lips.

You froze for a second, "I-I can't--" Fyodor only traced your lips ominously, like he was taunting you and asking you why.

"I'm still in love with Niko--"

"Dove? Dos?" Your heartbeat stopped when you heard your lover's voice behind you. Why was he here, and how'd he get here so fast?

You turned around, hoping he would save you, until you saw him holding a gun--the same one he used on your husband.

"Kolya, w-wait, this isn't..." You stopped talking when you heard the gun cock. There was no way you could explain your way out of this. You and Fyodor were just about to kiss, and you were trying to escape indefinitely.

Nikolai narrowed his eyes and pointed the gun at Fyodor, "This was your doing, wasn't it?" Fyodor only remained calm, however, and twirled a strand of your hair while smirking.

"No, quite the opposite actually. Our little dove here was just about to escape and go back home to 'make amends'. It seems like she may still be grieving over her husband and their traditional life together..." Nikolai's grip on his gun tightened, still pointed at his friend. "Actually, she was just seducing me to help her escape. A goodbye kiss, that's what you wanted, right, ptichka?" Your ex-patient's eyes narrowed after hearing the similar pet name.

He turned to you, "Is he telling the truth, dove?" You were shaking, still trying to process the situation in front of you.

"N-no! I was trying to escape with Fyodor's help, but that's it! I swear, I still love you--please believe me, Kolya!" You pleaded, practically begging for your life. Nikolai looked at you regrettably before removing the card over his right eye and laughing bitterly.

"And here I was, rushing back to see you once I saw your text because I was worried about you and wanted to talk things out properly. I'm quite the fool aren't I, dove?" He started laughing maniacally, scaring you. He then stopped suddenly and pointed the gun at you, "But I guess this decision was from your own free will. I was wrong for thinking you were the same as me..."

Anxiety settling in, you couldn't react. What was Nikolai going on about? Had Fyodor said something to or manipulated him, too?

"We got rid of your husband, but now you want Dos, too? You're aren't really mine, are you, dove?" He walked closer to you and pressed the cold metal barrel to your hip. "I'll be nice and let you play one last game, though~" He had a crazy look in his eyes--one dark and emotionless, and the other streaming tears; you were sure every feeling was spiraling through his brain.

Nikolai giggled as he pushed you out of the door onto the floor. You were about to get up in fear when you heard a shot in the background. Did he shoot Fyodor?

Deranged laughter was heard behind you as Nikolai peeked his head out the door, "Better start running, dove. Otherwise the next shot might hit you~" You backed up in terror, standing up and stumbling over to Nikolai, wrapping your arms around him and crying hysterically.

"K-Kolya, you're s-scaring me. I-I love you, s-so let's go back t-to n-normal." Nikolai paused against your shaky body and lifted your face up to his. Tears were falling out both of his eyes now, contrasting the wicked grin contorting his lips. You gasped as he wiped your eyes and licked away your tears.

"You look so pretty when you cry, angel. I'll give you an extra ten seconds for that. Ten...nine...eight..." Realizing you had no way to convince Nikolai to spare your life, you ran, not daring to look back behind you. The man you loved was gone, driven mad by his obsession over you. Your skin crawled as you heard his voice reverberating through the hallways.

"I thought you loved me, dove, but it seems I wasn't what you wanted. I got too attached to you, though, and you know too much, so it seems I can't just let you go or give you to another man. You won't escape my cage."

[fangirltothefullest]

I feel like you will understand my pain but it is SO hard to find cute clown merch 😭 especially as casual wear or home decor! Like I don't want a scary clown blanket! I don't want a scary clown hoodie! I want a cute one! Where are my cute clown socks and pj's! Why is it all scary!

You came to the right person!!! ETSY IS A GIFT FOR CUTE CLOWN MERCH!

[spongebob-connoisseur]

🕸💚💜Slappy Laszlo Ita Bag💜💚🕸

Everything you see here except for the bag itself (without any embellishments) is handmade!

My best friend was making an ita bag for her favorite character and I figured I wanted one too!❤ I had a lot of fun making it <3 I got to show this off at a con and got jumpscared when I realized I was sitting next to a twt mutual at a panel who said she loved my bag :D

Here's a closer look of the monstrosity <3 It was a nightmare making the rosette but imo 100% worth it

i handmade a slappy plush just to add on the bag. I gave up sewing half way and just started hot gluing the shit out of him. He was literally made in a single day😢

His body is really wonky. He looks thin😔 I wanted him to be kinda chibiesque with a large head and small body (well more than usual I mean) but my sister said it looks like if he was on ozempic💔💔💔💔

Moving on, here is the insert! I cut up an old spiderweb t shirt to use as a lining over the insert, I also bought plastic bugs from the dollarstore and painted them pastels to match Slappy(the bag of bugs was labeled "reptiles" at the dollar store but there was no reptiles! Isnt that odd?)

Slappy has no official merch so I had to make everything. I feared it would not be enough and I hate empty spaces so the bugs are there to fill out any gaps.

The buttons I also made. The library downtown has a fabrication studio so my bestie and I spend an afternoon making a gazillion buttons of our favorite characters.

Duality of man💯

The eyeballs were the most time consuming to make surprisingly enough! They're made from clay from dollar tree, I do not recommend, extremely fragile. I had to do this twice because it kept crumbling. Eventually I figured it out, covered it in many layers of mod podge, painted it over then shaded with eyeshadow. The pupils themselves are glass eyes, I forgot I bought them back in 2022 for doll purposes but it came in handy! These were originally pink eyes but I ripped off the backing and painted them over purple.

I wanted them to go in the center of the bag bows because that's a very pastel goth motive to have bows with eyeballs. And its very Slappy to have his soft boiled Peter Lorre buggy eyes in bows! :D Slappy's green color scheme can very easily be pastel goth. I have a vision💯💯💯

Anyways worst of making this was gluing on the false lashes! I'm not a makeup wearer so I have zero experience with any of this. But I will tell you that I was at my wits end trying to make the false lashes stick. I have a new found respect for people who do this regularly💯💯

I also did this criss cross ribbon thing on the sides of the bag. I was taking inspo from Gothic lolita bags so I really wanted this detail. I probably should have sewn them on but I got lazy.

I also replaced the zipper tags with coffin charms! Do not do this! They are not stable and I already lost one!

Final picture: I just wanted to show off the bag chain I made :D made from an old necklace, the beaded chain of a childrens toy. The only thing I bought was the spider charms to add onto it. They're supposed to be mint green but they look kinda blue in the photo. Ignore that.

I love Slappy so much that he feels like an open wound on my left side that's constantly bleeding out and causing me severe pain <3 My the back of my head burning up and my chest cracking like broken glass everytime I think of him <3 He deserves a cutsey patootie little ita bag dedicated to him UwU <333

If you have a favorite character you should make an ita bag too! Its a fun craft project. I think it's especially fun when it's not the usual stereotypical pretty boy/girl anime character! Just imagine a Renfield ita bag that's all cutsey Gothic lolita? Someone please make this vision a reality!

I would love to make a Spongebob ita bag someday especially since I already have a lot of Spongebob stuff (pins, buttons, keychains, etc) if they ever drop an official spongebob ita bag then you can bet your squarepants that I'll put it all together💕💕 I do think the Slappy bag would remain the most fun simply because I had to make everything from scratch meanwhile a hypothetical SB ita bag is just things I already own and was collecting for years. Never the less I'd still treasure it both since they're both my bestest boys💕💕💕

[ultrademonkiller737]

Can you draw V1 and Pegasus? I would like to see them interact more often :3

V1 has the habit to pick him up as soon as they see him

And they also like to bring little handmade souvenirs of their journeys in Hell ❤

[dunmomee]

Somewhere Only We Know

synopsis: From the chaos of the premiere to the stillness of a beach, you and Satoru trade fame for fries and something more unspoken.

a/n: I’m baaaackkkk! This chapter’s been living in my drafts for over two weeks (yes, I kept editing it at a snail’s pace), but I finally let it breathe and I really hope you love how it turned out. Your thoughts mean the world, as always! 💙✨

<<Previous one-shot ❤ Masterlist ❤ Next >>

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

London shimmered under a sky of steel-blue dusk, its skyline pierced by the London Eye's soft glow and the gold-rimmed silhouette of Big Ben. The red carpet outside the historic theatre was lined with velvet ropes and shuttering flashes. Inside, the grandeur of the venue swelled: gilded balconies, velvet drapes, ornate moldings that smelled faintly of dust and history. The London premiere of Crossed Lines was in full swing.

You arrived late on purpose.

Not fashionably late. Just strategically. You needed solo photos. Clean ones. No distractions. No Gojo Satoru hijacking your spotlight with a wink and a scandalous touch.

Your car pulled up to a roar of excitement. Fans pressed against the barricades, screaming your name. Photographers barked for angles, for smiles, for drama.

You stepped out onto the carpet in your lavender silk gown, the fabric catching the light like morning mist. The slit rippled with every step. Cameras flashed. The neckline dipped just enough. Your hair was swept up, your neck on full display, jeweled earrings twinkling like stars.

You signed autographs, pausing to greet fans. A little girl held a handmade sign that read: "Team Kael & Elia Forever." You knelt, signed her poster, smiled for a photo.

Then came the questions.

"Are you dating Gojo?"

"Did the kiss mean something?"

"Will there be a sequel?!"

"Should we expect to see you and Gojo in more movies together?"

You smiled sweetly. "You'll have to watch and see."

You moved toward another group of fans waving posters when a voice, too loud and too pointed, sliced through the hum.

"So quick to philander with Gojo after a five-year relationship, huh? No wonder your ex said you were the problem."

The words hit you like a slap. For a heartbeat, you froze.

But only a heartbeat.

You turned your head slowly, eyes scanning for the source without letting your expression crack. Your smile stayed in place, graceful, practiced. The kind that said nothing and everything.

Security was already moving. One of your guards placed a firm but polite hand at your back.

"This way, miss."

You allowed yourself to be guided, chin tilted slightly higher. You didn't flinch. Didn't respond. Just smiled like the cameras were still watching.

And they were.

You turned and posed alone; back slightly arched, profile catching the light, a gentle smile on your lips. You were poised. Untouchable. The very image of elegance.

Then the screams swelled.

You knew that sound. That white-haired man. That high-pitched chaos. The Gojo Effect.

Satoru appeared at the far end of the carpet, in a storm-grey suit and the smuggest grin known to man. He took his time walking toward you, signing a few autographs, waving at the press. You could feel his eyes tracking you the whole time.

And then—

"RECREATE THE KISS!"

"TOUCH HER WAIST!"

"LOOK AT HER LIKE LAST TIME!"

You were still mid-pose when he slid in beside you, his hand settling on the small of your back, like it belonged there, like it always had.

"You’re late," he murmured, voice low for your ears alone.

"I came late on purpose," you replied through your smile. "To avoid this."

He laughed under his breath, leaning closer as more photos clicked. "You wound me."

You angled toward the cameras, smile sharp. "Try anything again and I’ll stab you with my heel."

"Promises, promises."

More flashes. He leaned in like he might recreate the kiss. Just enough to tease the crowd. But you stepped away gracefully.

"Enjoy the chaos, Satoru," you said, voice honeyed.

And with that, you walked off the carpet, heels tapping, leaving him smirking under the glare of every lens.

The chaos of arrivals had faded into a hum. You stood backstage in the wings, your gown brushing softly around your legs, loose in all the places your stylist had promised would look "effortlessly chic." It dipped low at the back, exposing the length of your spine, cool air whispering over your bare skin. 

You felt lightheaded. Maybe it was the heat of the lights. Maybe the tension. Or maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten anything solid since yesterday’s green juice. Nerves churned against an empty stomach. You pressed your palm to your abdomen, discreetly.

Satoru appeared at your side like gravity. A tailored grey suit hugged his frame, turtleneck soft against his skin. His platinum hair glinted under stage lights, and his cologne wrapped around you like something warm and annoyingly addictive.

"You look like a painting," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. "One I'd steal from a gallery, no regrets."

You rolled your eyes. "You're supposed to behave tonight."

He smirked. "Oh, I am. This is me behaving."

The theatre doors opened. Applause rumbled like distant thunder. One by one, the cast filed onstage.

You followed, smile poised, spine pulled tall despite the ache in your knees. The spotlight hit like a wave. Heat. Noise. Eyes.

Satoru spoke first, all lazy charm. "We wanted this film to feel like something intimate and dangerous. And Y/N here? She carried that tension like breath."

The crowd chuckled, charmed. You smiled, managed a few words of thanks, though your throat felt dry. Your pulse raced. The floor under your heels seemed to tilt.

Then applause again. A few bows. The cast turned to exit. You pivoted, but your heel caught on the edge of the step. The world tilted—

A firm grip caught your waist.

Satoru.

His arm was around you in a blink, steady and secure. His palm found the curve of your hip, grounding you like a weight. No one else noticed. Not the audience. Not the cast.

Just you. Just him.

His voice brushed your ear. "Steady, sweetheart. I've got you."

Backstage, laughter rose.

Riko smirked. “You two gonna keep pretending this isn’t a slow-burn romcom in real life?”

Satoru opened his mouth to respond, but Yuki cut in with a deadpan, “We’ve had more chemistry reads with you two than actual rehearsals.”

“Honestly,” Utahime added, grinning, “at this point, the marketing team’s just waiting for that intimate kiss to drop so they can rebrand the entire film.”

“Do we get invited to the wedding?” Choso asked, sipping his drink like it was popcorn-worthy.

You forced a laugh, but your chest ached. "I need air."

Satoru didn't hesitate. He guided you through a narrow hall, down a staff corridor, out a side door into the night. The city air bit at your skin, cool and sharp.

You inhaled deeply. Stars peeked from behind clouded sky.

"I’m starving," you admitted quietly, voice hoarse. "Like…actually starving. Haven’t had a real meal in two days."

He frowned. "You should've said something."

You gave a weak smile. "Press tour rules. Look good. Breathe less. Survive on fumes and compliments."

He shook his head. "Get in the car."

His Porsche Panamera was parked by a side street, sleek, black, humming with heat. He helped you into the seat, his hand lingering at your knee longer than necessary.

"Trust me," he said. "We're gonna fix this."

Twenty minutes later, you were parked outside a drive-thru on the outskirts of the city. It smelled like grease and comfort.

The moment the intercom crackled, Satoru ordered without even glancing at you:

“Two double cheeseburgers. Fries. Extra crispy. Spicy wings. And cherry soda. No ice.”

You blinked. “You remembered.”

He shrugged. “I remember everything.”

The car pulled away, headlights cutting through the dim backroads as the city lights faded behind you. You kicked off your shoes and curled into your seat, unwrapping your burger as the road hummed beneath the tires.

“You know,” you said between bites, “people are probably watching our movie right now. And here we are dipping.”

He gave a lazy grin. “Let them. We gave them enough of a show.”

You nudged his thigh with your foot. “You’re moving around like you own London. You always know the good spots in every country. Late-night drive-thrus, rooftop bars in Soho, hole-in-the-wall ramen joints in Osaka. It’s suspicious.”

“Dated a British actress once,” he said, like it explained everything. “She hated crowds. Loved anything deep-fried. I picked up a few things.”

You grinned. “So the mysterious local-guide energy is all just secondhand ex-boyfriend experience?”

He tilted his head. “You think this level of charm just happens?”

“Charm,” you repeated flatly. “Right. Like the same charm that got you dumped by that Victoria’s Secret model after she leaked your chats to the press?”

He groaned. “That’s so low of you, Y/N.”

You laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too soon?”

He shot you a look. “Still less painful than your five-year award-winning director bro era.”

You rolled your eyes, crumpling the burger wrapper in your hand. “Touché.”

“Five years is a long time,” he added, quieter.

“Yeah,” you said, voice dipping. “Long enough to start planning forever. Long enough for it to fall apart anyway.”

The silence sat between you for a second, only broken by the crinkle of food wrappers and the hum of the road.

“I’ve seen the comments,” he said suddenly. “The ones his hideous fans leave.”

You looked at him. “I got one earlier today”

Satoru looked so puzzled. Staring at you very briefly before facing the wheel.

You stared out the window. “Yeah. Said i was philandering with you”

He gave a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But we’re just coworkers,” he said, too fast, too flat.

You arched a brow but didn’t call him out. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How strangers think they know who we are. Like a couple of red carpet photos and interviews give them permission to write our whole story.”

He didn’t respond. Just drove on, jaw tight, fingers flexing once on the wheel. Like there was more he wanted to say, but didn’t.

Eventually, he pulled into a quiet overlook where the sea spread out dark and glimmering below. The moonlight danced on the waves. Not another soul in sight.

You sat together on the sand, legs tangled, food bags warm against your thighs. You bit into the burger and nearly moaned.

“Still dramatic,” he murmured.

You threw a fry at him. “Still insufferable.”

He smiled, softer now. “You were always like this. Even back then. Before any of this.”

You chewed slowly, eyes fixed on the moonlight skipping across the waves. “You were Suguru’s golden-boy best friend. I’m sure you thought of me as his weird-ass cousin.”

“That’s not true,” he said, voice low.

“I was so nerdy back then. And that acne...”

He turned to look at you fully. “You’ve always been amazing. And beautiful. Plus—I had braces, remember?”

“You were always the pretty boy,” you muttered. “Glassy skin. That annoyingly symmetrical face... ugh. Like a maiden’s.”

He laughed then, a warm, throaty sound that wrapped around you.

Silence stretched between you, soft and golden and fragile.

“I can’t believe Su-chan and Shoko get to live this amazing life together, and we’re just… floating. Stuck with the short end of the stick,” you sighed. “Remember when Shoko used to hate both of you? Or pretended to, anyway. And all of Su-chan’s teasing? Just his dumb way of saying he liked her.”

Satoru smiled faintly, sipping his drink.

You turned to him. “Do you think we’ll find something like that? Even in this flashy, chaotic world?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I know we can. The only problem is… the person I want hasn’t even realized it.”

Your eyes flicked to his.

He was staring at you, still, unreadable. But something in his gaze made your chest tighten.

Your fingers brushed against his on the blanket. Slowly, gently, he laced them together.

You sat there in the hush of night, your head tilted, his thumb brushing your knuckles. You chewed another fry. He reached for his phone.

Click.

"Did you just take a picture of me eating?"

He smiled. "You looked happy. I wanted to remember."

You turned to scold him, but found him already looking at you.

The air between you held still.

Then—

"Y/N!"

Your assistant’s voice shattered the quiet. She was running toward you, shoes sinking awkwardly into the sand with every step like the beach itself was trying to stop her.

You panicked, instinctively hiding the burger behind your back.

Too late.

You couldn’t suppress your snicker and neither could Satoru.

"You’re supposed to be on a cleanse! Valentino is expecting you at a final fitting!"

You sighed, standing slowly. Sand clung to your hem.

"They should fit the dress to her, not the other way around," Satoru said, rising beside you.

The assistant rolled her eyes. "That's not how this works."

She dragged you toward the waiting van. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you—thank goodness we had your location synced. I can’t believe that white-haired menace pulled this stunt. And your dress! Look at it!”

You looked back at him, eyes pleading—begging him to save you.

He didn’t move. He’d learned better than to face the wrath of your assistant, not after what happened during filming.

So he just watched.

Waved.

And smiled, like he knew something you didn’t. Not yet.

[kitzstudio]

Shop is back open with some cool new stuff!

✨ gold foil vinyl sticker as blind bags

✨ big CoraLaw pin

✨ handmade mini Heartcubes