#he is a child he extended his hand for you still believing in you and you cannot grab his hand because you love him and want to protect him

[cupcakedieabetes]

Dumpster Baby Part 3

<<First, <-Previous

Dick, as Robin, huffed in anger, scouting out the rooftops alone as he had ran from Batman after an argument.

Batman thought he was so incompetent because he was still young, Dick would show him for sure when he finds THE kidnapper.

The kidnapper had been showing mostly in poorer parts. Nobody knew if it was a group, but most testimonies either didn't want to talk about it, or they didn't even know that their children disappeared in the first place.

Dick thought, it would be a great idea to show Batman that he was competent by being bait without his help. Dick was still young enough to be one of the targets, either as his civilian form or as Robin, so he could go as either, anyways.

Despite being alone, Dick knows that Batman still has trackers and cameras on Robin, so he could use this as proof so that Batman didn't have to be so annoying with his nagging.

It was kind of chilly in the middle of the night, so Robin huddled on a rooftop, peering below to observe a potential kidnapping.

"B̸̫̐̚á̶̝͝b̶̦͌̔ẙ̸̢͈???"

Robin whirled around, eyes widened, and screamed

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

Batman rushed to the area where Robin was, having just observed him from far when the cameras on him, both visual and audio went fuzzy.

But what he can tell last was Robin screaming in terror. Batman didn't know what exactly did Robin encountered, but whatever it was, he didn't want to be too late for whatever it is.

This was why he kept trying to bench Robin. He didn't want a dead child on his hand, something that was entirely preventable if he was stricter..

The tracker on Robin was also untrackable, so Batman went the classic way of tracing his last whereabouts through the cameras, finding the fuzzyness that lead him to a warehouse.

He slammed open the door to the entrance, weapons ready to attack, but found it empty. But not quite.

Batman cautiously entered into the warehouse, finding transparent glowing people ignoring him. Apparitions? There were so many, and what fo-

He whirled around, feeling that someone was staring at him, only to see an eyeball staring at him.

He threw a Batarang at the eyeball, only for it to pass through. So he decided to launch himself at it, kicking it and punching it, but still it went through the eyeball.

Long glowing green hands extended from the floor and restricted his movements. Batman struggled against the hands, even resorting to biting it, but found that he could not get out of the bindings.

The hands started bringing him somewhere with the eyeball leading. Eyeballs. More and more eyeball started appearing, all to stare at him.

"BATMAN!!!" His head whirled around to spot Robin, safe and unharmed, and most of all, FREE, running towards him.

"It's okay!! Batman is just worried about me!!!" Dick looked at an eyeball.

The eyeball just kept on staring alongside the other eyeballs, but the hands slowly removed itselves from him.

"Batman! I found the kidnapper! And you wouldn't believe it!!!" Dick dragged Batman by the arm, but the adult was firm in place.

"Explain. Otherwise, I'll be telling this to Agent A."

Robin winced and whined.

"That's why!!! I'm dragging youuuuu to show youuuuuu." Robin tilted back while hanging onto his arms.

Batman let himself be led by Robin to a room. And for the first time in a while since his debut as Batman, did he get shocked at something he had never encountered before.

I wrote this in a way that Dick still isn't able to separate himself from 'Robin' and 'Dick' while Batman is able to separate the identities completely.

[dunmeshistash]

ive always wondered if milsiril's overprotectiveness of kabru was less because of infantilisation (although she def like all elves has that problem) and more so out of guilt. she was a captain of the canaries during the Utaya incident I believe and she witnessed what happened and she couldn't stop it. and she left the canaries because of it and took in the kid who was the Only survivor, raised him in extreme comfort so he'd never see the horrors again and didn't want him anywhere near the dungeons! like i think learning self defense for defenses sake would have made her hesitant but she would have obliged but because it was specifically for the dungeons she was so against it. also like he must have had a rough few years dealing with that trauma as well which doubled her protectiveness

I believe it's a mixture of both, I don't think you can really take away the guilt (actually unsure if that's the best word to describe it) nor the race relations from how Milsiril sees Kabru.

I am the Milsiril apologist ™ but the fact she see's Kabru as a child even now is a big part of their relationship, she's a mother that can't grow up (both for being an elf and for her own issues) and that has to cope with her children outgrowing her fast

Putting a read more cause as usual when it's about Milsiril I talk too much

We can see in every way Milsiril acts that she sees Kabru at most as a toddler during his time with her, she's hand feeding him, has him in a room full of toys and talks about him like he's a cute baby.

I think people are too mean about this side of Milsiril tbh. I think it makes her interesting and it's clear (to me at least) that she does her best to provide for her children even if she doesn't truly understands them. Even in that first interaction with Kabru where she's trying to hand feed him they were *already* training with swords beforehand.

Milsiril also talks to Kabru in a way that kinda seems to expect him to understand more than what a small child would like we can see in the AB extra

So her infantilization doesn't extend to underestimating him at least, rather I think that's how she shows affection (which is still bad 😭)

Anyway, about her trauma with the dungeon and guilt (or maybe shame? Fear?), I do think that was one of the motivations for her to take Kabru in as I said in this post (beware I am a Milsiril apologist and I am VERY biased in seeing her in a more positive light, doesn't mean it's true) but I think that side of her manifests in her sudden switches from crybaby mom to ruthless master

Milsiril is very emotionally unstable from what we can see, she's really trying to convince Kabru not to go into dungeons and when tears don't work she switches into training him so hard he'll give up on his own. I've seen people call this her "true colors" or say she was using "crocodile tears" but in my opnion both the tears and the threat are genuine, I don't think it's a planned switch but rather the fact she's unstable to begin with, both the crybaby mom and the scary swords master are her true self.

Anyway! I think both guilt and infantilization are intertwined in her love towards Kabru, I've said this before but she's a flawed caretaker in a world where she does not have the resources to become a better one. She's traumatized she's depressed and she's an elf, but she's the only one (that we know) willing to at least *try* to treat the people she cares for the correct way. If it wasn't for Milsiril Kabru would have been raised by elves like Rin was (and we know that went very bad, they traumatized her), and Mithrun might not have received the proper rehab he needed to go back into the canaries (He might have managed but we see Milsiril put in the effort to help him cope besides being the one to tell him about Utaya)

That is all to say: Milsiril is still flawed!! It's part of what I love about her, and it's the reason so many people dislike her too. I'm saying this cause sometimes when I go on my Milsiril rants I get asks putting down Kabru to raise her up and that's like, very uncomfortable lmao. Even if she did her best he still was the one that to deal with all of her shortfallings while being raised and he's still the one responsible for getting to where he is, she just made is easier than it could have been.

Disclaimer as is usual for my Milsiril posts: I'm a Milsiril fan, my interpretations of her are very charitable because I often see people being way too uncharitable about her. Please read the original material and make up your own interpretation, this posts only contain what I think it's relevant for my point not an objective view of the whole. I've also already made several posts about her and I don't want to keep repeating myself so if you think I glossed over something important that's probably why.

Edit: thinking more about it, maybe rather than feeling guilty herself she might blame "elves" as a whole for the failure in Utaya, it does say she left it "in disgust". It's not that clear how she feels about it.

I still think it's shared trauma though, I don't think it's possible for Milsiril to not have been affected by what happened there and I think it's part of why she doesn't want Kabru to go to dungeons again. But her way to cope is to turn away from it (and blaming "elves" might be part of how she copes) while Kabru's is to face it so it doesn't happen again

[typicalopposite]

Please give an update on Hopes & Fears. Amazing writing 👏

Here you go fren! 🫶🫶🫶

“So you liked the movie?” Tommy asks, because he could continue to argue about whether he should have been kicked from bed or not, but Evan is still rubbing circles into his exposed belly and it feels nice… so he changes the subject instead. 

“I did!” Evan exclaims, and he seems genuinely serious about it. “I, uh— I actually watched it twice,” he adds, dipping his head and smiling bashfully. 

“Twice?!”

“A- And not to mention what I saw with you before I restarted it…” he continues, and Tommy furrows his brows confused. “Oh… after you fell asleep I started it over so I could give it my full attention… I— I’m really glad because I was missing vital scenes like you said— which… you were half asleep so you probably don’t remember saying that— but I didn’t want to miss anything so—” 

“You restarted it…” Tommy wishes he had better control over the awe in his voice… or the tears in his damned tear ducts… because he’d love to not become overly emotional about this. 

Evan smiles softly, and nods. “I— I figured we could talk about it once you were up… but you slept in, and— and then this little gymnast woke up—” he laughs and rubs at the spot on Tommy’s belly where the baby seems to be trying to escape. “So I just started talking to them about it, while we waited for you to wake up and join us…” The baby rolls and kicks, as if agreeing. “They really seem to enjoy my impersonation of Vicinni’s—” 

He leans in close to the bump and gives a very accurate inconceivable and the baby kicks back towards his face. Tommy can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at Evan quoting the famous line, causing the baby to move even more as his belly is jostled around from the laughter. It all makes Evan laugh too, spreading his hand out wide over Tommy’s belly— over their child— and then he suddenly leans in and presses his lips to the bump. 

They both freeze, and the laughter stops. 

“I— I am so sorry…” Evan gasps, pushing away from Tommy. “I can’t believe I just did that.” He starts to move across the bed and Tommy grabs his hand—

“Wait…” he says. “It— it’s fine; really…” Evan looks ready to protest, but Tommy stops him. “This is your child, Evan… you are allowed to show affection to them, I— I don’t mind.” 

“Are you sure?” Evan asks, already moving back towards Tommy. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” 

“I won’t,” Tommy quickly assures him… And he won’t… in all honesty. It makes him happy that he is able to give this to Evan, and that Evan is happy and wants to bond with their child; if Tommy gets to pretend the moments of affection extend to him as well in the process… that’s his own heartache to deal with after the baby is born. 

So, Evan gently shifts himself back to lying beside Tommy’s belly, he brings his hand back up to rest against it, and presses another kiss right where the baby is pushing a knee out. “I love you,” he says softly, and receives an equally soft kick in return. “We both do…” he gives a quick glance up to Tommy, and smiles.

Tommy feels like a boulder is lodged in his throat. He wonders if the baby knows he loves them as well… it’s not like he has ever said it before… Why has he never said it before?

Memories of a young Tommy telling his dad he loved him to only get a grunt or mean remark in return— or just to be ignored completely— overthrow the sweetness of Evan continuing to tell their child how much they both care… 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Evan asks, and Tommy desperately tries to blink back tears. 

“Uh, yeah… Yeah— I’m just… hungry. Are you hungry?” He is (finally) pushing himself up from the bed— away from Evan… He just— He needs to get away from Evan before he starts sobbing like an idiot and looks like he actually doesn’t like the attention the baby is being given. “I’m gonna go make us some breakfast.” 

Thankfully Evan’s stomach uses the moment to growl loudly… thankfully he doesn’t insist on trying to hobble into the kitchen to help Tommy make the breakfast…

Thankfully Tommy is able to get all the emotions out before he returns with the food.

[yarrayora]

servamp is like you will let your children inherit the blood that has been shed in your war and your children's children will teach their children that this is normal, this is what it takes to be a person. and then one day they'll realize hey this is wrong. the world doesn't have to be like this! but you have never taught them how to resolve conflict without blood. but they know hurting others will simply continue the cycle of violence, so the blood they shed will be their own

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[elikajinnie]

Wisdom And Death - N.R

P: DemiGod!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Sword fighting, Tension, Obsessive Behaviour (no literally), Jealousy if you squint, Park Wonbin Cameo.

Synopsis: You’ve just discovered you're the daughter of Athena, goddess of wisdom, and now you’re at Camp Half-Blood. You struggle to survive—but now Ni-ki, son of Hades seems to have taken an interest in you.

a/n: already done harry potter, why not try out percy jackson as well? i dont expect this to do good tbh..

--

You were a daughter of Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy. It was a truth you had only recently learned, and not in the way you might have expected. Your father—distant, aloof, and perpetually overworked—had dropped the bombshell on you like it was just another item on his to-do list. For years, he had told you that your mother had died in childbirth, a tragic story you’d grown up swallowing whole. But then, out of nowhere, he decided it was time you knew the truth.

At first, you didn’t believe him. Who would? The idea of being the child of a literal goddess sounded absurd, like something out of one of those cheesy fantasy movies you used to watch. But your dad wouldn’t let you argue. He brushed off your questions with the same detached efficiency he used for everything else and, before you knew it, you were being shoved into the backseat of a car with a suitcase in one hand and a head full of unanswered questions.

That’s how you ended up here: a camp in the middle of the woods with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. You tilted your head to read it, the letters etched deep into the grain: Camp Half-Blood.

"Right," you muttered to yourself. "Because Camp Mythological Heritage would’ve been too on the nose."

Still, there was no turning back now. With a shrug, you stepped past the entrance and into a world that felt like something out of a fever dream. Kids your age—and younger—were scattered across the campgrounds, each of them doing something more insane than the last. One kid was scaling a rock wall that was on fire, while another sparred with a partner using what looked like actual swords. Over by the lake, a group of campers were... were those horses? No, centaurs. Actual centaurs.

You stood frozen, your mouth slightly ajar. It was like stepping into a fantasy novel. Or a madhouse. You hadn’t decided which one yet.

“Well,” you muttered to yourself, “this is either going to be the best thing that ever happened to me... or the absolute worst.”

You made your way toward the center of the camp, still trying to process the sheer chaos unfolding around you. Everyone seemed so... at home here. But you, well, you felt like an outsider. Your entire life had been one thing, and now it was completely turned upside down. As you walked, you tried to ignore the tiny pit of unease growing in your stomach. This wasn’t what you had imagined. Then again, you hadn’t imagined much of anything.

Before you could spiral too much, a voice broke through your thoughts. "You must be the daughter of Athena," it said, smooth and calm, yet somehow with a touch of familiarity, as if it had known you your whole life.

You blinked up at the speaker, startled. Standing before you was a centaur—half man, half horse—his chest broad and dignified, and his eyes sharp, like he could see right through you. He was somehow... kind. A strange contrast to the world you had just walked into.

“Welcome,” he continued, extending a hand that you shook uncertainly. “I’m Chiron. I know this must be overwhelming, but we’re here to help.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Chiron? Like, the Chiron from Greek mythology?"

"That would be me," he said with a small chuckle. "But I’ve been around for a long time, you'll find the name a bit more casual in a place like this."

You blinked again, not sure how to react. This wasn’t the kind of welcome you had expected, but then again, nothing about this situation was what you’d imagined.

As Chiron began to explain the camp, his words flowed with an ease that made everything sound... normal. Like discovering you were the child of a goddess wasn’t as monumental as it seemed. He explained the demigod life with a sense of nonchalance, detailing the training you’d undergo. Everything had a rhythm to it, like a battle plan carefully constructed and laid out.

"Your mother, Athena," he said, his gaze softening for a moment, "she's one of the most revered of the Olympian gods. Intelligence, strategy, wisdom—they all run through her blood, and now, through yours."

You had to hold back a sigh. You’d heard about your mother’s legacy, but it felt distant, like a story told to you by someone who didn’t quite know the ending. Chiron, however, spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"And here," he gestured grandly, "is where you’ll be staying."

You followed his gaze to a modest cabin that seemed to exude an aura of quiet authority. It was simple, yet elegant in its design, with the unmistakable feeling that it had been built for both function and beauty.

“This is the Athena cabin,” Chiron said, his voice low, respectful. “It’s where the children of Athena reside. You’ll find it to be a place of study, of strategy. And you’ll find that, like your mother, you will be expected to think and lead carefully.”

You stood before it, still unsure of how you were supposed to feel. "I’m supposed to live here now?" you asked, voice almost too small to be your own.

"Yes," Chiron replied, his smile gentle. “And while it may take some time to get used to, you'll find that the family you never knew you had is here. The other daughters of Athena will become your sisters—your allies in this world.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help the doubts swirling in your mind. Could you really belong here? Could you live up to this legacy, to the expectations of a goddess you barely knew?

“Come,” Chiron said, turning toward the cabin. “Let’s get you settled in. And don’t worry, we’ve all been through this transition. You're not alone.”

The inside of the Athena cabin was everything you expected and more. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with texts on strategy, philosophy, mythology, and other subjects you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, with a touch of something herbal—maybe mint or rosemary. There were maps and blueprints pinned to corkboards, some of them marked with notes in handwriting so precise it could have been printed. A large table dominated the center of the room, strewn with scrolls, chessboards, and what looked like the half-finished plans for a miniature catapult.

Several campers were scattered around the room, their heads bent in concentration. Some were reading, others sketching battle tactics, and a few were locked in intense chess matches. They didn’t look up as you entered, but you could feel their awareness. It was as if they had already sized you up without even glancing your way.

“This is your home now,” Chiron said, his voice low as he gestured around the room. “The children of Athena value intellect, strategy, and wisdom. You’ll find that everyone here has their own strengths, and soon, you’ll discover yours as well.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The room was intimidating in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t the weapons or the books or even the aura of focus—it was the expectation. The unspoken weight that came with being Athena’s child.

One of the campers finally looked up, a girl with sharp features and dark hair pulled into a braid. She stood, crossing her arms as she approached. “New kid?” she asked, her tone more curious than unkind. Her eyes seemed to assess you in an instant.

“Yes,” Chiron answered before you could. “This is Athena’s newest appointed daughter.”

The girl’s expression shifted slightly, softening just enough to put you at ease. She extended a hand. “I’m Sophia. Welcome to the Athena cabin.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm but not overwhelming. “Uh, thanks. I’m—”

“Don’t worry,” Sophia interrupted, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “We’ll learn your name soon enough. For now, let’s just focus on getting you settled in.” She turned back to Chiron. “We’ll take it from here.”

Chiron nodded, his expression approving. “Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He placed a hand on your shoulder briefly, his presence steadying. “You’re in good hands here. I’ll check in with you later.”

And with that, he left, his hooves clopping softly against the wooden floor as he disappeared out the door.

Sophia turned back to you, her smirk widening. “Well, newbie, let’s get this over with. You’ll be bunking over here.” She led you to a bed near the back of the cabin, neatly made with gray blankets and pillows. A small wooden trunk sat at the foot of it, clearly meant for your belongings. “It’s not much, but you’ll get used to it.”

You set your bag down, glancing around at the other bunks. Everything was organized, almost militaristically so. No stray clothes, no clutter—just a quiet efficiency that made your own messy habits feel glaringly obvious.

Sophia must have noticed your hesitation because she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. We don’t bite. Much.” She tilted her head toward the other campers. “Most of us are too busy with our projects to bother anyone. Just don’t touch anyone’s stuff without asking, and you’ll be fine.”

You nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. “So… what now?”

“Now,” Sophia said, crossing her arms again, “you try to survive. Training starts tomorrow morning, bright and early. Hope you’re ready to learn how to wield a weapon, because monsters won’t care how good you are at chess.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of monsters, but you tried not to let it show. “Great,” you muttered. “Sounds fun.”

Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, newbie. We’ve all been where you are. You’ll find your place soon enough.”

With that, she walked off, leaving you alone to process everything. You lay back on the bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The sounds of the camp filtered in through the open windows—laughter, the clang of swords, the steady rhythm of feet pounding the ground.

You exhaled slowly, trying to let the noises outside soothe the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. It didn’t work. How could it, when the weight of everything that had happened in the past few days pressed down on you like a lead blanket? You were the daughter of a goddess. A literal goddess. How were you supposed to live up to that? You didn’t feel particularly wise or strategic. You felt... normal. Average. Like a fish suddenly thrown into a sea of sharks.

A knock on the doorframe startled you out of your thoughts. You sat up quickly, your heart skipping a beat as you looked toward the entrance. A boy stood there, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed. His sandy blonde hair was messy, like he’d just come from sparring, and there was a faint smear of dirt on his cheek. He looked about your age, maybe a little older, with an easy confidence that made you feel even more out of place.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light but curious. “You’re the new Athena kid, huh?”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

He grinned, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. “Figures. You’ve got that look about you.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What look?”

“You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “all serious and... thinking about ten things at once. Classic Athena kid behavior.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “And you are?”

“Jake,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Son of Apollo.”

You hesitated for half a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm but friendly, and his smile was disarming. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Guess?” he repeated with a mock pout. “Wow, tough crowd.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, despite yourself. There was something about him that put you at ease, even if his confidence was a little overwhelming.

“So,” he said, glancing around the cabin before turning back to you, “how’s your first day going? Overwhelmed yet?”

“More like completely lost,” you admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jake nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that’s pretty normal. Everyone feels like that at first. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Just... try not to overthink everything. I know it’s, like, in your DNA or whatever, but trust me, this place is way easier to deal with if you just roll with the punches.”

“Right,” you said, not entirely convinced. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably been here forever.”

“Three years,” he said, shrugging. “But it feels like forever sometimes. You’ll get used to it, though. And if you ever need someone to show you the ropes, I’m your guy.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud clang from outside, followed by a chorus of cheers. Jake glanced toward the window, his grin widening.

“Looks like the sparring matches are heating up,” he said. “You should come watch. It’s a good way to see what you’re up against.”

You hesitated, glancing back at your bed. Part of you wanted to stay there, to retreat into yourself and avoid the chaos outside for just a little longer. But another part of you—smaller, quieter, but undeniably there—wanted to see what this world was really about.

“Alright,” you said finally, standing up. “Lead the way.”

Jake’s grin grew wider, and he gestured for you to follow him. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, newbie. Time to see what you’re made of.”

You stepped out of the cabin, squinting against the sunlight as Jake led the way toward an open training area. The sounds of sparring filled the air—the clash of metal against metal, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the occasional shout of victory.

The training ground was a wide, dusty circle surrounded by spectators, most of them campers who were either waiting their turn or simply enjoying the show. In the middle, pairs of campers were locked in combat. Some used swords and shields, while some fought barehanded, relying on strength, agility, and strategy to try and knock each other down.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jake said, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You nodded, your eyes wide as you took in the scene. “Yeah. Intense, though.”

Jake chuckled. “You get used to it. Let’s introduce you to some of the gang. You’re going to be seeing a lot of these faces, so might as well start remembering names.”

He led you over to a group of campers who were sitting on a bench, watching the matches with keen interest. They turned as you approached, their expressions ranging from curious to welcoming.

“This is Soobin,” Jake said, gesturing to a tall boy with jet-black hair and kind eyes. He offered you a small smile, his voice calm as he spoke. “Son of Apollo.”

You nodded, trying to commit his name and face to memory. “Nice to meet you, Soobin.”

Next, Jake pointed to a girl with short, choppy hair dyed a silvery gray. Her arms were crossed, and she had a confident smirk that told you she didn’t take herself too seriously. “This is Chaewon, daughter of Ares. She’s one of the best fighters here, so don’t get on her bad side.”

Chaewon snorted. “I’m not that scary.” She winked at you. “Unless you’re dumb enough to challenge me, of course.”

You laughed nervously, making a mental note to stay far away from her during sparring sessions.

Jake moved on to a pair of twins who were practically radiating energy. They had identical bright smiles and matching dimples. “These two are Jiwoo and Jiyeon, daughters of Hermes. If anything goes missing, it’s probably their fault.”

“Hey!” Jiyeon protested, though her grin didn’t waver. “We’ve been so well-behaved lately.”

“Relatively,” Jiwoo added with a wink.

You couldn’t help but smile at their playful energy. “Got it. Keep my stuff locked up.”

“Smart girl,” Jiwoo said approvingly.

Jake led you around the rest of the training ground, introducing you to more campers.

There was Minho, son of Hephaestus, a quiet boy with soot-streaked hands and a shy smile who loved to tinker with weapons and gadgets. “If you need a custom weapon or armor, come find me,” he said softly.

Then there was Yeji, daughter of Demeter, who was tending to a small garden on the outskirts of the training area. She wiped her hands on her jeans and smiled warmly. “If camp food gets boring, I can help you find the best fruits and veggies around.”

And finally, Jake introduced you to Seungmin, son of Dionysus, who was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. “Good luck surviving your first week.”

“Uh, thanks?” you said, not entirely sure if that was encouragement or a warning.

By the time Jake finished the introductions, your head was spinning with names, faces, and parentage. You did your best to commit them all to memory, but you had a feeling it was going to take a while before you got them all straight.

Jake clapped you on the shoulder, grinning. “Not so bad, right? Everyone’s pretty chill once you get to know them.”

“Sure,” you said, though you still felt a little overwhelmed. “But it’s a lot to take in.”

“Trust me, you’ll be fine,” Jake said confidently. He nodded toward the sparring ring. “Now, want to watch a match or two? Or are you feeling brave enough to give it a try yourself?”

You glanced at the campers sparring in the ring, their movements fast and fierce. Part of you wanted to jump in, to prove to yourself that you could handle this new life. But another part wasn’t quite ready.

“I think I’ll stick to watching for now,” you said with a small laugh.

Jake nodded, his grin never fading. “Fair enough. Let’s find a good spot, then. You’re going to want to pay attention—there’s a lot you can learn just from watching.”

Jake led you to a shaded spot under a tree with a perfect view of the sparring ring. He plopped down on the ground, motioning for you to do the same. You settled in beside him, your eyes fixed on the action.

"See that?" Jake nudged you, pointing at one of the fighters. "That’s Hyunjin, son of Aphrodite."

You nodded, watching as Hyunjin disarmed his opponent with a flourish that looked almost effortless.

The match ended with a loud cheer, and you were about to ask Jake a question when the atmosphere in the training ground shifted as someone new stepped into the ring.

He was tall—easily the tallest person you’d seen so far—and carried himself with a quiet confidence that was somehow more intimidating than if he’d been loud and boastful. His dark hair fell just over his sharp eyes, and in his hand, he twirled a sword with the kind of ease that made it look like an extension of his arm.

“Who’s that?” you leaned over and whispered to Jake, unable to tear your eyes away from the newcomer.

Jake followed your gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Ni-ki,” he said. “Son of Hades. Don’t feel bad if he gives you the chills—he does that to everyone.”

You didn’t respond. You were too focused on Ni-ki as he stepped into the center of the ring, his gaze cool and unbothered as he sized up his opponent. The person across from him was someone you didn’t recognize—a stocky boy who looked strong but not nearly as composed.

The match began, and from the very first move, it was clear that Ni-ki was on a completely different level. He didn’t just fight—he dominated. His movements were precise, calculated, almost lazy in their efficiency. Every swing of his sword, every step he took, was purposeful. It was like he was playing a game of chess, except the pieces were his opponent’s mistakes, and he was three moves ahead the entire time.

You found yourself holding your breath as you watched. The other boy lunged, swinging his weapon with all his might, but Ni-ki sidestepped effortlessly, his expression bored. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed the boy, sending his weapon skidding across the ground.

The fight ended in seconds. Ni-ki didn’t gloat, didn’t smile—he simply turned and walked away, his sword resting on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

The crowd erupted into cheers and murmurs, but you were still frozen in place, your eyes following Ni-ki as he disappeared toward the edge of the training area.

“You okay?” Jake asked, nudging you lightly.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though your voice felt distant even to your own ears.

Jake smirked knowingly. “Yeah, he has that effect on people. Don’t let him intimidate you too much, though. He’s not as scary as he looks.”

You glanced at Jake, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe he is,” Jake admitted with a laugh. “But he’s not all bad. He’s just... intense.”

Intense. That felt like an understatement. You looked back toward where Ni-ki had gone, half expecting him to be watching from the shadows. But he was gone, leaving you with a strange, lingering curiosity that you couldn’t quite shake.

As the sparring matches wound down, you decided to take the chance to explore more of the camp. There was so much to take in—the cabins, the armory, the various training areas—it all felt like a strange blend of summer camp and battlefield.

You were just passing by the archery range when something zipped by your head, close enough that you felt the breeze as it passed. You yelped, instinctively ducking as the arrow thudded into a target a few feet away.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” a voice called out.

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart still racing, and froze. The guy jogging toward you was... well, there was no other way to put it: stunning. He had soft, wavy hair that caught the sunlight just right, warm brown eyes, and a jawline that looked like it had been carved by one of the gods themselves. Was everyone here this ridiculously attractive?

“Uh, it’s okay,” you managed to say, brushing off the shock. “I dodged in time.”

He let out a huff of relief, running a hand through his hair. “Phew. For a second there, I thought I’d actually hit you. That would’ve been one heck of a first impression.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to stare too hard. “Yeah, not exactly the warmest welcome, but I’ll survive.”

He grinned, his confidence shining through. “Still, almost hitting the newbie? That’s got to be a new low for me.” He extended a hand toward you. “I’m Wonbin, son of Aphrodite. And before you say anything, yes, I’m that good-looking because of my mom. Comes with the territory.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his candor as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/N. Daughter of Athena.”

“Ah, an Athena kid,” he said, his grin turning into a smirk. “Figures. You’ve got that sharp, calculating look in your eyes. Kind of intimidating, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Intimidating? Me? You’re the one firing arrows at innocent bystanders.”

Wonbin laughed, the sound light and easy. “Fair point. I’ll owe you one for that—free archery lessons, maybe? You know, to keep you from dodging arrows next time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the offer didn’t sound half-bad. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that,” he said with a wink. “Anyway, I should probably get back to practice before Chiron yells at me again. See you around, newbie.”

As he walked back toward the range, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile. If nothing else, Camp Half-Blood was full of... colorful personalities.

--

Your aimless wandering had brought you to the edge of the camp, where the cabins grew more spaced out and quiet. One cabin in particular caught your attention—it was darker than the others, its aura foreboding and unnervingly still. The door was closed, and the windows were tinted, making it impossible to see inside. You tilted your head, curiosity tugging at you as you wondered which camper called this place home.

“You’re pretty far from your cabin.”

The sudden voice made you jump, and you whipped around quickly, heart thudding in your chest.

Oh.

It was Ni-ki.

He stood there like a shadow given form, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, and he seemed even taller up close—towering over you with an intensity that made you instinctively take a step back.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice low and even, though there was a hint of something in his tone—amusement, maybe? Or just curiosity?

You cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t notice how startled you were. “I, uh… I was just exploring. Didn’t mean to wander this far.”

Ni-ki’s gaze flicked to the dark cabin behind you, and for a moment, his expression softened—just barely. “This isn’t exactly the friendliest part of camp,” he said. “Especially for someone new.”

You glanced back at the cabin, suddenly feeling a little foolish for standing there. “Whose cabin is it?”

“It’s mine,” Ni-ki said simply.

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked back at him. “Yours? Oh.”

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, expecting a skull on the door or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, then hesitated. “Well, maybe.”

Ni-ki huffed a quiet laugh, though it was more like a sharp exhale. “Relax. It’s just a cabin, not the gates of the Underworld.”

You weren’t entirely sure about that, given the eerie vibe the place gave off, but you decided not to push it. “Right. Sorry for… lurking.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure you out. The silence stretched just long enough to feel uncomfortable before he finally spoke again.

“You’re the new Athena kid, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Jake doesn’t shut up,” he said bluntly, though there was the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a nervous laugh, unsure of how to respond. Ni-ki didn’t seem like the kind of person you could easily read—or impress, for that matter.

“Well,” he said, shifting his weight slightly, “if you’re done wandering, you should probably head back to your cabin. This side of camp isn’t exactly the best place to hang out.”

“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Ni-ki’s expression darkened, and for a split second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he stepped closer—just enough to make you aware of how much taller he was—and said quietly, “Let’s just say not everything here is as safe as it looks.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you swallowed hard, nodding. “Got it. Heading back now.”

Ni-ki stepped aside, gesturing for you to go. As you walked past him, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with an unreadable expression, the dark cabin looming behind him like a shadow.

Something about him lingered in your mind as you made your way back to your own cabin.

When you pushed open the door to the Athena cabin and paused. Inside, the girls were gathered in a tight circle on the floor, their heads close together, whispering and giggling in a way that seemed almost conspiratorial. Books, notebooks, and even a small chalkboard sat in the middle of the ring, covered in scrawled notes and diagrams.

The moment you stepped in, all eyes turned to you. You froze under their collective gaze, unsure of whether you’d just walked into something secret or sacred.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly, glancing between them.

Sophia, the girl who’d first greeted you when you arrived, smiled and gestured for you to sit beside her. “Come join us. We’re just quizzing each other—it’s kind of a thing we do regularly.”

You hesitated for a moment before shrugging and stepping forward. Sophia shifted to make space for you, and as you sat down, you noticed the mix of curiosity and warmth in the girls’ faces.

“We’ll start a new round for you,” said Haewon, her voice steady but kind. She had a book open in her lap, the pages filled with notes in tiny, precise handwriting. “Do you want to give it a try?”

“Sure,” you said, unsure of what exactly you were getting yourself into but willing to play along.

Ryujin grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Alright, let’s see if the new girl can keep up.”

Yunjin nudged her with a playful glare. “Be nice.”

The first question came from Soyeon, who looked at you with sharp, calculating eyes. “Who was the mother of Perseus?”

Your brain scrambled for the answer, and you barely managed to get it out. “Danaë.”

Soyeon nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Good. Next.”

The questions came rapid-fire after that, bouncing between Greek mythology, mathematical equations, Roman history, and even abstract, theoretical problems.

“What’s the square root of 729?”

“27.”

“Who was the first Roman emperor?”

“Augustus.”

“If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

“…Uh, depends on your definition of ‘sound.’”

The girls laughed at that one, even Leeseo, who had been scribbling furiously in a notebook the entire time.

Every time you got an answer right, you felt a surge of pride, and when you got one wrong, the girls explained it without a hint of judgment.

Sophia leaned over at one point, nudging you with her shoulder. “You’re doing better than I did my first time.”

“Really?” you asked, half-laughing as Haewon fired off another question about theoretical physics.

“Really,” Sophia said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in.”

You had proven it to yourself. You were one of them.

--

The morning light filtered through the trees, as you stood in the training area, still feeling the weight of the armor strapped to your body. It wasn’t much—light armor, a sword, and a shield—but it was enough to make you feel like you were suddenly expected to be someone else, someone capable of defending themselves.

You awkwardly adjusted the straps, wondering just how much of a disaster your first training session would be. You didn’t even know what to do with the sword yet—let alone how to hold the shield properly.

That’s when you felt it—someone’s gaze on you. You turned, and your eyes locked with a guy standing just a few paces away. You recognized him immediately. It was hard not to—he was a son of Ares, and he looked the part. Broad-shouldered, with a sharp, aggressive expression, his dark eyes narrowed as he sized you up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to learn how to use that thing?” he called out, his tone sharp, almost challenging.

You straightened up, heart racing. “Uh… I’m not really sure what to do…”

He snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry, kid. You’re about to find out.”

Before you could react, he was on you—his movements swift and brutal as he lunged forward, his sword aimed directly at your chest. You barely had time to raise your shield, the force of the blow almost knocking you off your feet.

Your heart pounded in your ears, and for a moment, you wondered if you should just give up—if maybe you weren’t cut out for this. But then, a quiet voice in the back of your mind reminded you who your mother was. Athena. Goddess of wisdom and strategy. You weren’t just any camper here. You had the blood of a warrior in you, even if it felt distant.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, trying to steady your breathing.

The son of Ares swung again, but this time you were ready. You sidestepped, your body moving almost instinctively as your shield blocked the next attack. You could feel the heat from his strikes, the raw power behind each one.

“Not bad,” he grunted, clearly surprised by your ability to dodge. “But don’t just block—counterattack!”

Counterattack. You barely had time to think before another strike came at you, but this time, your instincts took over. You shifted, raising your sword and parrying his strike. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to push him off balance. You swung back, though he easily blocked it with his own shield.

This continued for a few more rounds, the fight becoming more of a dance between the two of you, until you found yourself growing more comfortable, your movements becoming sharper and more deliberate. The son of Ares didn’t give you an inch, but you were beginning to see the patterns in his strikes—predicting where his next attack would come from, even as your breath grew heavier.

You didn’t win the sparring match—he was still faster, stronger, and more experienced—but by the time it ended, you felt greatful to be alive.

“Not bad for a newbie,” the son of Ares said, stepping back and giving you a nod of approval. “You’ve got some guts.”

You wiped the sweat from your brow, your heart still racing. “I... I didn’t think I could do that.”

He gave you a look that was almost approving, though his face still carried that rough edge. “You’re a daughter of Athena, right? You should’ve known you had it in you.”

You nodded, though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. Were you really your mother’s daughter? Sure, you’d dodged and blocked the attacks, but did that make you a true warrior?

The son of Ares turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your sword in hand and your shield still raised, as the sounds of camp life continued around you.

Just as you were trying to catch your breath, still processing the son of Ares’ brutal training session, you heard a voice—a familiar, mocking tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Well, well, looks like you’re still standing,” Ni-ki said, his voice smooth and teasing.

You looked up, and there he was. He was dressed in light armor like you, a sword and shield strapped to his side, his posture relaxed as he twirled his sword in his hand, almost as if he were showing off. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk as he locked eyes with you.

“What? You’re gonna just stand there?” Ni-ki teased, his tone light but laced with challenge.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could even form a sentence, Ni-ki moved.

His sword came down fast and hard, the sharp clang of metal on metal ringing through the air as you barely managed to raise your shield in time to deflect the blow. Your heart raced, your hands still shaky from the last sparring session, and now here he was—moving with a confidence and skill that was hard to match.

“Come on, I thought Athena’s kids were supposed to be smarter than this,” Ni-ki called out, his voice laced with amusement as he swung again. You had no choice but to dodge, the blade narrowly missing your side.

His attacks came rapid-fire, each one pushing you to the edge. It was like he was anticipating every move you made. You were barely keeping up, forced to sidestep and block with everything you had. He kept moving, his footwork impeccable as he darted around you, only giving you brief moments to catch your breath.

“Come on, you’re not still getting outclassed, are you?” Ni-ki called, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he swung again. You could feel the heat of the sword as it sliced through the air.

Frustration burned in your chest. You couldn’t keep dodging forever.

Without hesitation, you swung your sword at him, a wild, almost desperate strike aimed at his torso.

Ni-ki parried the blow effortlessly, deflecting it with a flick of his wrist. Then, he stopped and actually clapped.

“Well, at least you’re trying now,” he said, his smirk widening.

You froze for a moment, bewildered by his nonchalant attitude. Before you could process, he vanished.

One second he was in front of you, and the next—he was behind you. You didn’t even have time to react before you felt the lightest push to your back, and you were sent tumbling to the ground.

You gasped, staring up at Ni-ki as he stood over you. “What… what was that?”

Ni-ki simply raised an eyebrow, his gaze cool and almost bored. “That? Oh, just a little trick I picked up from my dad.”

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “A trick?” you asked, still on the ground, trying to push yourself up.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice casual. “It’s an ability. Using shadows to teleport short distances, just like that.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Teleporting? From his father, Hades? It was the kind of power you’d only heard about in stories, something that seemed impossible to even imagine.

“Right…” you muttered, still on the ground, looking up at him in a mix of awe and frustration.

Ni-ki simply shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Not bad, though. You’ll catch up eventually. If you don’t want to end up on the floor every time.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you sitting there in the dirt, your sword and shield at your side. You could feel the sting of both your physical exhaustion and your bruised pride.

He made it look so easy—effortless.

You stood up, brushing off the dirt from your armor with a frustrated sigh, your fingers lingering on the spots where the ground had scraped your skin. You were still catching your breath, but it was clear—combat wasn’t going to be your immediate strong suit, not like it was for some of the others.

“Yeah, I may have a long way to go with combat,” you muttered under your breath, “but there’s still other stuff I’m good at.”

That thought pushed you forward, and soon you were walking toward the archery range, a small glimmer of determination lighting the way. The bow had always felt more natural to you than the sword and shield, even before you knew about your mother.

The sound of arrows hitting targets echoed through the area as you arrived. The archery range was lined with targets, some already peppered with arrows, others waiting for their turn. A few campers were already practicing, some with impressive skill, others just beginning to find their rhythm.

You walked to one of the nearby racks, grabbing a bow and quiver of arrows. It was lighter than you remembered, but sturdy in your hands. You took a moment to steady yourself, feeling the familiar grip, testing the tension in your fingers.

"Mind if I join?" you asked, glancing at the nearest archer—a tall, lean girl with long black hair who was effortlessly nailing the bullseye on her target.

She turned to you, her eyes scanning your form before giving a small nod. “Sure, go ahead.”

You didn’t say anything more. You simply nocked an arrow, drew it back, and aimed. Your focus sharpened, everything around you fading away as you lined up your shot. A deep breath, and then you released the arrow.

It flew true, hitting the target dead center.

The girl raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Okay, I admit it. You’ve got skill.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It wasn’t combat, but this—that felt like something you could excel at.

“Thanks,” you said, adjusting your stance and preparing for another shot. “I’ve always been better with a bow.”

You didn’t have the strength or speed that the others seemed to carry so naturally, but this was something you could control, something that felt more like you.

For a while, you just kept shooting, blocking out everything except the pull of the string, the release, and the thrill of hitting your target. It was grounding, in a way.

After a few more rounds, the girl who had been watching you approached again. She was still eyeing your shots, but this time with more interest.

“You’ve got good instincts,” she said, a hint of respect in her voice. “I’m Emily, daughter of Ares.”

You smiled at her, setting down the bow for a moment. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. Daughter of Athena.”

Seoyeon nodded. “I can see that. You definitely have the focus of your mom.”

You didn’t know if it was a compliment or just an observation, but it felt like the first time someone actually saw the connection between you and Athena in a positive way.

“Thanks,” you said again, feeling a sense of pride. Maybe you still had a lot to prove, but you were starting to see the things you were good at.

A few days passed, and you’d settled into a routine at Camp Half-Blood. Though you weren’t great with a sword yet, you’d at least stopped embarrassing yourself entirely.

One morning, while heading back from the archery range, you spotted a familiar face lounging near the stables. Wonbin. He wasn’t holding a bow this time, nor was he causing chaos by almost hitting you with an arrow. Instead, he was leaning against a post, his arms crossed casually as he watched a group of campers walk by.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over, unsure of what to expect.

"Still dodging arrows, or have you gotten better?" he teased as you approached, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not dodging anything anymore. And, for the record, I’m actually pretty good with a bow.”

“Oh, I know. I saw you at the range yesterday,” he said, surprising you. “Not bad for a newbie.”

“Wow, high praise coming from you,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Wonbin laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, you realized just how relaxed he seemed compared to some of the other campers.

“You’re fun to mess with, you know,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But I’m not just here to tease you. You looked a little stiff when you were sparring the other day. Want some help?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You want to help me?”

“Why not? Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t embarrass yourself in front of everyone,” he said with a wink. “Besides, I’m a great teacher.”

You snorted but nodded. “Alright, fine. Show me what you’ve got.”

The two of you made your way to the training grounds, where it was surprisingly quiet for the time of day. Wonbin handed you a wooden training sword, the weight of it familiar but still slightly awkward in your hand.

“Okay, first things first,” Wonbin said, stepping in front of you. “Stop gripping it like it’s a lifeline. You’re not strangling the sword. Loosen up a bit.”

You adjusted your grip, and he nodded in approval.

“Good. Now, let’s see how you move.”

He took you through a few basic drills, correcting your stance and showing you how to shift your weight when you swung. Unlike the other demigods, Wonbin was patient. He didn’t push too hard or make you feel like you were failing every time you messed up. Instead, he laughed when you tripped over your own feet and offered encouragement when you got it right.

“You’re getting there,” he said after a particularly decent swing. “But you’re thinking too much. Stop trying to overanalyze every move.”

“Thinking is kind of my thing,” you muttered, adjusting your stance again.

“Well, turn it off for a bit. Just feel the movement. Trust me, it’ll click eventually.”

And to your surprise, it did start to click. Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of holding a sword began to fade, replaced by a sense of control you hadn’t felt before.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” you admitted after a while, lowering your sword to wipe the sweat from your brow.

“Told you I’m a great teacher,” Wonbin said with a smirk. “But you’re not bad yourself. You’ve got potential. Just stop overthinking.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Easier said than done.”

The two of you sat down for a break, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. Wonbin was suprisingly easy to talk to.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you’re actually kind of fun to be around. When you’re not shooting arrows at me, I mean.”

Wonbin grinned, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And, for the record, I wasn’t trying to hit you. Just keeping you on your toes.”

“Sure you were,” you said, rolling your eyes.

While laughing at one of Wonbin’s jokes, you suddenly felt a strange sensation, like the weight of someone’s gaze on you. It was sharp, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. You turned your head, scanning the area, and that’s when your eyes locked onto him.

Ni-ki.

He was leaning casually against a tree not far from the training grounds, an apple in one hand as he bit into it with an air of complete indifference. But his eyes told a different story. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was staring.

For a moment, you froze, caught in his intense gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way he was watching you that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, hello?” Wonbin’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You still with me, or did you just see a ghost?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from Ni-ki to look back at Wonbin. “What? No, I’m fine. Just… thought I saw something.”

Wonbin followed your gaze and immediately caught sight of Ni-ki. He let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, I see. Tall, dark, and broody over there, huh? That’s Ni-ki for you. Likes to stare people down for no reason. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not letting him get to me,” you said quickly, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Wonbin grinned, clearly amused. “Sure, sure. Just saying, he’s got that whole mysterious bad boy thing going on, doesn’t he? It’s kind of his signature.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, but your curiosity was already piqued. Without realizing it, your gaze drifted back to Ni-ki.

This time, he smirked. Just the faintest twitch of his lips, but it was there, and it made your heart skip a beat. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Wonbin caught the exchange and snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be interesting. You two haven’t even talked yet, have you?”

“Not really,” you admitted, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Wonbin said, leaning back on his hands. “Ni-ki doesn’t just stare at people for fun. If he’s looking at you like that, he’s either curious or he’s decided you’re worth messing with. Either way, good luck.”

You swallowed hard, stealing one last glance at Ni-ki before turning your attention back to Wonbin.

“Yeah, thanks,” you muttered, trying to shake the strange mix of nerves and intrigue Ni-ki had sparked in you.

You found yourself staring back at Ni-ki, unable to stop. His gaze was unwavering, sharp, and entirely unapologetic. There was a challenge in it, though you couldn’t tell what kind. Instead of looking away, you tilted your head slightly, trying to match his intensity, as if silently asking, What? What do you want?

Ni-ki took another bite of his apple, his eyes never leaving yours. That smirk tugged at his lips again, subtle but undeniably there, like he found your silent defiance amusing.

Meanwhile, Wonbin was still talking. Something about strategy, sparring tips, or maybe camp gossip—you weren’t really sure. His voice had faded into the background, your attention too firmly locked on Ni-ki.

“...and that’s why you never spar with a son of Hermes if they’re smiling,” Wonbin said with a laugh, nudging your arm lightly. “You listening?”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumbled, not breaking eye contact with Ni-ki.

Wonbin followed your line of sight and let out a low chuckle. “You’re still looking at him? Wow, he’s really got you hooked, huh?”

That snapped you out of it. You turned back to Wonbin, your cheeks heating up. “I’m not—! I was just—!”

Wonbin grinned, cutting you off with a knowing look. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. But seriously, if you’re gonna have a staring contest with Ni-ki, you better prepare to lose."

You glanced back toward the tree, but Ni-ki was no longer leaning there. He had disappeared, as silently as he’d been watching you, leaving nothing behind but the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“See? Creepy, right?” Wonbin said, shaking his head. “He’s like a shadow.”

You frowned, a mix of confusion and curiosity bubbling in your chest. “He’s… something, alright.”

Wonbin laughed and stood, brushing dirt off his pants. “Come on. If you keep thinking about him, you’ll drive yourself crazy. Let’s hit the dining pavilion before lunch is gone.”

You followed him, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Ni-ki. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

--

You swore life had a vendetta or something against you. Beacuse no matter where you went, no matter how much you tried to focus on your surroundings, he was there.

It wasn’t just his presence that was getting to you—it was how he lived in your head now, too. Every time your mind wandered, it seemed to settle on him.

Ni-ki, leaning against a tree.

Ni-ki, passing by with that ever-present smirk.

Ni-ki, sparring in the distance and throwing a glance your way like he knew you’d been watching.

It was irritating, frustrating, and honestly a little confusing. You didn’t even know the guy, but somehow, he’d gotten under your skin.

Finally, you decided you needed to clear your head. Without telling anyone, you set off on a walk, leaving the noisy heart of camp behind. The greenery stretched out around you, tall trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was quiet here, save for the rustling of leaves and the occasional birdcall.

You didn’t have a destination in mind, nor did you need one. All you wanted was space to breathe, to think without distractions, without Ni-ki lurking in your peripheral vision.

The further you walked, the more you began to relax. The sunlight filtering through the leaves painted dappled patterns on the ground, and the earthy smell of the forest calmed your racing thoughts.

You found yourself stopping by a small clearing, where the grass was soft and the air felt lighter. Sitting down, you let out a long sigh, letting yourself unwind. For the first time in days, your mind felt quiet.

But of course, the peace didn’t last.

“Running away from something?”

The voice was low, smooth, and instantly recognizable. Your eyes shot open, and sure enough, there he was—Ni-ki, standing at the edge of the clearing, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Seriously? Do you just appear everywhere, or do you follow me on purpose?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why would I follow you? You’re the one who always looks at me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you scrambled to your feet. “I do not always look at you!”

Ni-ki stepped closer, the smirk on his face growing. “You sure about that?”

“Yes!” you snapped, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

For a moment, he said nothing, just studying you with that unreadable expression of his. Then, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Why are you even here?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Ni-ki shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling up in that signature smirk. “Probably. But where’s the fun in that?”

He started walking, slow and deliberate, circling around you like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were light, almost lazy, but his eyes—sharp and dark—never left yours.

“You make it too easy,” he continued, his tone teasing. “The way you get all flustered? Kind of entertaining.”

Your arms tightened over your chest as you turned to keep him in your line of sight. “I’m not flustered.”

He stopped just behind you, leaning in slightly. “You sure about that?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his voice dropped lower, teasing and amused. You spun around to face him, trying to hold your ground.

“Yes, I’m sure!” you snapped, glaring at him.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Alright, if you say so.” He resumed his slow pacing, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “But, you know, you’re kind of fun to mess with.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Why me, though? There are literally dozens of other people you could annoy.”

“True,” he said, tilting his head as if he were considering it. “But they’re boring. You’re… different.”

“Different how?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

He stopped in front of you, leaning slightly to meet your gaze. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” he said, his voice soft but still laced with that infuriating teasing edge. “But I will.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he stepped back, cutting you off before you could speak.

“Anyway,” he said casually, stretching his arms over his head, “don’t let me stop you from enjoying your little walk.”

He turned to leave, but just as he passed by, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Miss you? I—”

But Ni-ki was already walking away, his soft laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared into the trees.

You stood there, fists clenched at your sides, your face burning with frustration. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, walking away while muttering a string of complaints that only the trees around you could hear. “Unbelievable. Who does he think he is? ‘Try not to miss me too much.’ Ugh, I’ll show him who’s missing who.” You kicked at a stray rock on the path, watching it skitter off into the grass.

Your footsteps were heavier now, fueled by frustration, and your face was still hot from the way Ni-ki had managed to get under your skin again. It wasn’t just his teasing; it was how effortlessly he seemed to read you, like he knew exactly which buttons to press to rile you up.

“Stupid smirk. Stupid comments. Stupid Ni-ki,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you were stomping deeper into the forest until the sound of laughter and chatter from camp faded into the distance.

You stopped, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. The forest around you was quiet and peaceful, the sunlight filtering softly through the trees. It was supposed to help, but instead, your mind kept replaying the look on his face—the way his smirk seemed permanently etched there, like he knew he’d won whatever game he thought you were playing.

You let out a frustrated groan and plopped down on a mossy rock. “Why does he even care?” you muttered, staring at the ground. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

The forest offered no answers, just the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze. You stayed there for a moment, trying to push thoughts of Ni-ki out of your head. But of course, it was easier said than done.

After a while, you sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. “Fine. Whatever. Let him play his little games,” you said, mostly to yourself. “I’ve got better things to do than worry about him.”

With that, you turned back toward camp, determined to focus on literally anything other than Ni-ki. But as you walked, you couldn’t help but feel like this wasn’t the last time he’d find a way to cross your path—and your thoughts.

And you stuck to your decision. You ignored Ni-ki completely, refusing to give him even a shred of your attention. No glances, no responses, no reactions. If he was leaning against a tree in your line of sight, you’d look the other way. If he passed by during training, you’d keep your eyes locked on your target. If he tried to make one of his smug comments, you’d act like he wasn’t even there.

It wasn’t easy—he had a way of commanding attention whether you wanted to give it to him or not—but you were determined to win this silent battle.

But of course, Ni-ki figured out your plan quickly.

And now? Now he seemed more determined than ever to get under your skin.

“Awfully quiet today, aren’t you?” he’d say as he casually strolled by during your sword training, his voice laced with amusement.

You’d grit your teeth and keep practicing, ignoring him completely.

“Oh, come on, are we doing the whole ‘silent treatment’ thing now?” he teased another time, walking alongside you as you headed to the dining pavilion.

You didn’t even glance at him, speeding up your steps instead. He just chuckled, easily matching your pace.

And the more you ignored him, the harder he tried.

He’d pop up in the middle of your archery sessions, leaning casually against a tree just within your peripheral vision. He never said anything, just stood there with that maddening smirk, watching you until you missed a shot.

“Looks like you’re distracted,” he’d comment, his tone smug.

Still, you wouldn’t take the bait.

But Ni-ki didn’t give up.

One afternoon, during a strategy session with your cabinmates, you were deep in thought, discussing battle plans with Sophia when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“I bet I could come up with something better,” Ni-ki said casually.

You tensed but kept your eyes on the map in front of you.

Sophia glanced between the two of you, her brows raised. “Uh… should we be concerned about this?”

“No,” you replied firmly, not even turning around.

Ni-ki leaned closer, his presence annoyingly obvious even though you refused to look at him. “Really? You’re just going to ignore me like that?”

“Yes,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Damn it.

Ni-ki straightened up, a victorious grin spreading across his face. “Ah, there you are. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You glared at him now, your resolve cracking. “What do you want, Ni-ki?”

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “Nothing, really. Just nice to know you’re still paying attention.”

You groaned and turned back to the map, pointedly ignoring his laughter as he walked away.

--

From the moment Ni-ki first laid eyes on you, something inside him shifted—something he didn’t recognize, didn’t fully understand, but couldn’t ignore. You were standing there, looking so out of place in your awkwardness, clutching a sword and shield like you had no idea what to do with them. You didn’t seem particularly strong, or fast, or even confident. And yet, he couldn’t stop staring.

It wasn’t just the way you looked—though that certainly didn’t hurt. There was something about your presence, something about the way you held yourself, even when you were nervous and uncertain. You didn’t cower, didn’t shrink away. You were stubborn in a way that amused and intrigued him.

Ni-ki had never believed in love at first sight. His father made it very clear that love—real love—was a dangerous thing, a distraction at best, a weakness at worst. But this? Whatever this was? It wasn’t weakness.

It was craving.

The kind of craving that gnawed at him, that made his chest tighten and his mind race. He wanted you, needed you, and it wasn’t just physical—though that was certainly part of it. It was deeper than that, more consuming. He wanted to know you, to unravel every layer of who you were, to understand what made you tick.

And he wanted to own you.

Not in a controlling, possessive way (or maybe it was, a little), but in the way that he wanted you to think of him the same way he thought of you. He wanted to occupy your every thought, to haunt your dreams and distract you during the day.

The rational part of him—the part that listened to his father’s warnings and tried to follow the unspoken rules—knew he shouldn’t feel this way. It was dangerous. Relationships between demigods were complicated enough, and this? This felt like it had the potential to destroy him.

But Ni-ki didn’t care.

Screw his father’s advice. Screw the rules. He’d never cared much for them anyway. All that mattered was you.

At first, he tried to keep his distance, watching from afar as you stumbled your way through camp life. He thought he could resist it, thought he could just… observe. But that only made it worse. The more he saw you—the way you laughed with others, the determined furrow of your brow during training, the moments when you thought no one was looking and let your guard down—the more he wanted you.

No, not wanted. Needed.

So he started testing you. Little things, at first. A teasing comment here, a smirk there, just to see how you’d react. And when you fired back, when you glared at him with that spark of defiance in your eyes, it only made him want you more.

You didn’t shy away from him like others did. You didn’t try to impress him or avoid him. You stood your ground, even when you were clearly annoyed—or flustered.

That was when he knew he was done for.

Was it love? Infatuation? Obsession? Ni-ki didn’t know, and he didn’t care to figure it out. All he knew was that you consumed him, and no amount of time or distance seemed to lessen the pull you had on him.

He couldn’t help it. You were the challenge he couldn’t resist, the flame he couldn’t stop himself from chasing.

And one way or another, he was going to have you. Even if it meant burning himself in the process.

--

You hadn’t really delved much into Greek mythology before. Sure, you’d heard the basics—Zeus, Hera, Poseidon—but the details? The stories? All the little quirks and scandals of the gods? None of that had ever crossed your radar. But now, you decided it was better late than never.

So, you borrowed—or, well, stole—a few books from one of your half-sisters. She probably wouldn’t miss them for a while anyway. Clutching the worn leather covers to your chest, you found a quiet place by the water, a spot where the trees cast long shadows and the sound of the camp faded into the background.

Settling down on a smooth rock, you cracked open the first book, its pages yellowed and filled with ornate text. As you began reading, the stories unfolded like vivid dreams in your mind. The gods were… messy, to put it lightly. Petty, dramatic, and surprisingly human for beings who supposedly ruled the cosmos.

It was fascinating, though. Each page gave you a little more insight into the world you were now a part of—the powers at play, the legacy you carried. You lingered on the pages about Athena, your mother. The goddess of wisdom, strategy, and war.

You ran a finger over an illustration of her, dressed in shining armor, an owl perched on her shoulder. It was hard to believe you had any connection to her. She seemed so… perfect. So otherworldly. How could someone like that have a daughter like you?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind you until a shadow fell over the pages of your book.

"Stealing books now? You’re full of surprises," a familiar voice drawled.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Ni-ki,” you sighed, your tone flat. “What do you want?”

He crouched beside you, his sword dangling lazily from his belt, an apple in his hand—again. He took a bite and chewed slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

“Just curious,” he said, tilting his head to look at the book in your lap. “Ah, some light reading i see?”

You ignored him, turning the page and pretending to focus on the words in front of you. But you could feel his eyes on you, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve.

After a moment of silence, he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “So, what are you reading about? Your mom?”

You gave him a sideways glance. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugged, taking another bite of his apple. “Just wondering if you’re finally starting to take this whole ‘demigod’ thing seriously.”

“I’ve always taken it seriously,” you shot back.

“Sure,” he said, his smirk widening. “That’s why you’re hiding out here instead of training.”

You snapped the book shut and turned to glare at him. “Do you ever get tired of bothering me?”

Ni-ki leaned back on his heels, his grin never fading. “Not really. You make it fun.”

You were about to turn and fire off a snarky comeback, something sharp to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words got caught in your throat the moment you saw how close he was to you now.

When did he get so close?

Ni-ki had been leaning back a second ago, but now he was right there, barely a breath away. You could see the faint scar on his jawline, the sharp curve of his cheekbones, the way his dark eyes seemed to glint with something unreadable. It wasn’t just the physical proximity that unsettled you—it was the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Your body stiffened, unsure whether to step back or hold your ground, but your body refused to move. You told yourself it was irritation, frustration with his endless teasing, but deep down, you weren’t so sure.

“Cat got your tongue?” Ni-ki asked softly, his voice low and teasing, but it didn’t carry the same playful edge as before. His gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest of moments before meeting your eyes again, his expression unreadable.

You blinked, finally snapping out of whatever strange trance you’d fallen into. “What—what are you doing?” you managed to ask, though your voice came out quieter than you’d intended.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into that maddening smirk. “Just wondering what it’d take to finally shut you up,” he murmured, his tone light but carrying an underlying intensity that made your stomach flip.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue when a voice interrupted from behind.

“Hey, uh… am I interrupting something?”

Both you and Ni-ki turned at the same time, and there stood Wonbin, looking between the two of you with a slightly raised eyebrow. His expression was casual enough, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he took in the scene.

He didn’t linger on Ni-ki for long, though. His gaze settled on you, softening as he asked, “Do you want to grab something to eat? I was just heading to the pavilion, and, well… figured I’d ask if you wanted to come along.”

His voice held a hopeful edge, and you didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes!” you said, a little too quickly. You scrambled to your feet, brushing off the dirt and leaves. “Absolutely, I’m starving.”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his smirk twitching as if he were trying to stifle a laugh. “Starving, huh?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a glare but didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you walked over to Wonbin, grabbed his arm, and practically dragged him away before Ni-ki could say anything else.

“Let’s go,” you said, your voice a little sharper than intended as you pulled Wonbin toward the direction of the dining pavilion.

As you walked away, you could feel Ni-ki’s gaze burning into your back. You refused to look over your shoulder, but you didn’t have to. You could already picture the smug expression on his face, and it only made you grip Wonbin’s arm tighter.

Wonbin glanced down at you, a little surprised but clearly pleased. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d say yes that fast,” he said with a small chuckle. “Guess you were hungrier than I thought.”

You managed a smile, though your mind was still racing from the tension you’d just escaped. “Yeah, something like that,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering heat in your cheeks.

Wonbin didn’t press, simply walking beside you and chatting about something light—camp rumors, training schedules, the usual.

--

Ni-ki watched as you walked away, dragging Wonbin by the arm, your laughter drifting faintly on the breeze. It wasn’t loud or directed at him, but it still gnawed at him in a way that made his jaw clench.

Something primal and possessive stirred deep in his chest, demanding he act—run after you, grab your wrist, pull you away from Wonbin, from anyone, and keep you hidden where only he could reach you. The thought sent a dangerous thrill through him. He could do it. He had the power, the determination, the will.

But no. Not yet.

He leaned back against the tree, biting into the apple in his hand to mask the frustration clawing its way to the surface. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your retreating form, lingering on the way your head tilted toward Wonbin as if he deserved your attention, as if he could actually be worth something to you.

The thought was laughable.

Wonbin was nothing. Just another pretty face with a bow in hand. He didn’t know you—not the way Ni-ki did, not the way Ni-ki could. Wonbin didn’t see the sharp wit hidden behind your hesitance, the way your eyes lit up with determination when you put your mind to something, or the rare, fleeting smiles you gave when you thought no one was looking.

Ni-ki saw all of it. He memorized every moment, every word, every glance you spared him, even if it was in irritation. And the more he saw, the more he needed.

No, Wonbin couldn’t make you happy. Not the way Ni-ki could.

Ni-ki’s grip tightened on the apple, the fruit cracking under the pressure of his fingers. He’d go to the Underworld and back for you—literally, if it came to that. It was his realm, after all. His father may have warned him against becoming attached to others, especially demigods, but Ni-ki didn’t care. Whether it was love or infatuation didn’t matter. All he knew was that you belonged to him, and one day, you’d realize it too.

You just needed… a little push.

Ni-ki’s lips curved into a slow, dark smile as he took another bite of the apple, his gaze never leaving the direction you’d gone.

He could wait. He was patient, after all.

But he’d make sure you saw it soon enough. That he was better than any other guy in camp, better than Wonbin, better than anyone who thought they could have a place in your life.

And when that moment came, when you finally saw him for what he truly was—yours—there wouldn’t be anything or anyone that could take you away from him.

Ni-ki stayed by the tree long after you disappeared from view, his fingers idly turning the half-eaten apple over in his hand. His mind raced with thoughts of you, each one tightening the knot of desire and obsession in his chest.

He could picture it so clearly—the moment when you’d finally stop running from him, stop looking at him like he was some bothersome shadow in your life. One day, you’d see him as he saw you. One day, you’d understand that no one else could ever care for you, protect you, love you the way he could.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. There was no need to rush. The more you resisted him now, the more satisfying it would be when you eventually gave in.

Ni-ki tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes glinting with quiet determination. He knew what he needed to do.

First, he’d let you play your little game—ignoring him, giving your attention to others like Wonbin. It was amusing in its own way, watching you try to distance yourself from him, as if that would somehow change the pull between you.

Then, when the time was right, he’d push. Not too hard, not enough to scare you, but just enough to remind you who was really worth your time.

And finally? He’d make sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It wasn’t just about winning you over. It was about showing you what you were missing—what life with him could be like. He’d keep you safe from everything and everyone that didn’t deserve you, even if that meant disobeying his father to ensure it.

Ni-ki straightened up, tossing the apple core to the ground as a small smirk tugged at his lips.

This wasn’t just about patience anymore. This was about strategy—something his own father had taught him well.

“Enjoy your little moments with Wonbin,” he murmured under his breath, the faintest trace of amusement lacing his voice. “It won’t matter in the end.”

With that, he turned and strode away from the tree, his mind already working on his next move.

You could try to ignore him. You could even try to hate him.

But it didn’t matter. Not to Ni-ki.

He’d seen the way your eyes lingered on him for a fraction too long when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way you always seemed to know exactly where he was, even when you claimed you didn’t care. You could tell yourself that you didn’t feel the pull between you, that his presence didn’t affect you, but Ni-ki knew better.

He always knew better.

He didn’t care how long it took, or how many distractions you tried to throw his way—Wonbin included. None of it mattered.

In the end, you’d come to him. You’d have to.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t the kind of person to lose, especially not when it came to something he wanted.

And he wanted you.

--

You were doomed—completely and utterly doomed—from the moment you were born. Your life would’ve been so much easier if your father had just fallen for a regular mortal instead of a literal Greek goddess. You could’ve gone through life oblivious to this whole other world of gods, monsters, and irritatingly attractive demigods. But no. Instead, he had to send you here, to this camp.

And because of that, you got to know Ni-ki.

You tried sticking by Wonbin. He was fun, charming, and easy to be around. He didn’t make your blood boil with irritation or tie your thoughts into knots that you couldn’t untangle, and you appreciated that. You told yourself that staying close to him was the best way to avoid the storm that was Ni-ki.

But it was no use.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, Ni-ki was always there, lingering on the edges of your mind if not right in front of you. He wasn’t like Wonbin—he didn’t make small talk or try to keep the peace. Ni-ki thrived on chaos, on teasing you, testing you, pushing every button you had until you didn’t know whether you wanted to yell at him or… something else.

It was maddening, frustrating, exhausting.

You caught yourself looking for him more often than you cared to admit, your eyes darting around camp during training sessions or meals. Even when he wasn’t near, you could feel the weight of his presence, like a shadow always lurking just behind you. And when you did see him? The infuriating smirk on his face made your heart race in a way that left you cursing under your breath.

You sighed as you sat by the campfire that evening, staring into the flickering flames. Wonbin was beside you, laughing and chatting with a group of other campers, but his voice faded into the background. Your thoughts were elsewhere—on the dark-haired boy who had somehow managed to weave himself into every corner of your life without your permission.

“Why do you look like you’re plotting murder?” Wonbin asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, turning to look at him. “Huh?”

“You’re glaring at the fire like it insulted your family or something,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. Just thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, thankfully.

Still, your mind refused to settle. You were doomed, all right. Doomed because no matter how hard you tried to ignore Ni-ki, some part of you always ended up being pulled back to him. Like gravity.

And the worst part?

A small, treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that maybe you didn’t want to fight it as much as you pretended to.

In fact, it was growing louder with every interaction, every smirk, every time Ni-ki’s dark eyes locked with yours like he could see straight through you. It was infuriating. It was maddening. But it was also… impossible to ignore.

You tried to shake it off, focusing on anything else—Wonbin’s jokes, the camp’s bustling energy, even the endless stream of chores and training drills. But none of it worked. No matter what you did, Ni-ki was there, lingering at the edge of your thoughts like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

You hated it. You hated how much space he took up in your head, how his teasing smirk and smooth voice haunted you even when he wasn’t around.

But what you hated most of all?

The way your heart raced when he was around.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the log by the campfire. The flames danced in front of you, but their warmth didn’t do much to ease the chill of confusion and frustration that settled in your chest.

You stood up abruptly, brushing the dirt off your hands. “I’m going to bed,” you mumbled, not really looking at anyone.

Wonbin glanced at you, concerned, but he didn’t say anything as you turned and headed toward the Athena cabin. The night air was cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the fire. You welcomed it, hoping it might clear your head.

When you pushed open the door to the cabin, you were surprised to find it empty. Normally, your half-sisters were gathered around, quietly reading.

You didn’t think too much about it as you made your way to your bed. Sitting down heavily, you groaned, letting your body relax for the first time all day. The mattress creaked under your weight, and you leaned back, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

Your mind, of course, wouldn’t quiet.

Ni-ki’s face flashed in your thoughts—his smirk, his sharp gaze, the way he always seemed so calm and in control, as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin. You groaned again, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in frustration.

“What is wrong with me?” you muttered to yourself.

This wasn’t like you. You didn’t let people get to you like this, especially not guys like Ni-ki. He was aggravating, arrogant, and far too sure of himself.

And yet.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moments when his teasing tone softened just slightly, or the way his presence seemed to shift when it was just the two of you. It made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to admit.

You sat up abruptly, shaking your head as if that would somehow shake the thoughts loose. “No,” you said firmly, as if declaring it out loud would make it true. “I’m not doing this.”

The next day, you were in the middle of a match, your shield raised and your sword slicing through the air as you managed to disarm your opponent with a clean move. Breathing heavily, you stepped back and lowered your weapon, a small grin tugging at your lips.

Straightening up, you turned to face the group. “Alright,” you said, brushing a hand across your brow. “Who’s next?”

The crowd shifted slightly, and then you saw him.

Ni-ki, standing at the edge of the group, his hand raised lazily as that infuriating smirk spread across his face.

Your stomach sank.

“Me,” he said simply, stepping forward with a casual confidence that made you grit your teeth.

He unsheathed his sword, the metal glinting in the sunlight as he spun it once in his hand, almost lazily. “Don’t look so excited to see me,” he teased, his voice low and taunting.

You groaned audibly, earning a few chuckles from the others watching. “Of course it’s you,” you muttered under your breath, gripping your sword tightly.

Ni-ki’s grin widened as he stopped a few feet in front of you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp. “Ready to show me what you’ve got?”

“Don’t you have anyone else to fight?” you shot back, raising your shield and positioning your sword defensively.

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Nope,” he said with mock cheerfulness. “You’re my favorite target.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire off another retort, Ni-ki lunged. His sword came down fast, and you barely managed to block it with your shield. The force of the blow made your arm ache, but you quickly recovered, stepping to the side and swinging your sword toward him.

Ni-ki parried with ease, his movements fluid and almost effortless. “Not bad,” he said, circling you slowly. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Shut up and fight,” you snapped, aiming a quick thrust toward his side.

He dodged it easily, his smirk never faltering. “Feisty,” he teased, blocking your next strike with his sword. “I like it.”

You groaned in frustration, your swings becoming more aggressive as Ni-ki continued to block and dodge with maddening ease. He wasn’t even trying to land a hit yet—just toying with you, testing you, like a cat playing with its prey.

“Stop holding back!” you shouted, lunging forward with all your strength.

Ni-ki’s eyes flashed, and for a split second, his smirk turned into something more serious. He sidestepped your attack and, with a quick flick of his wrist, knocked your sword out of your hand.

Before you could react, he stepped closer, the tip of his blade resting lightly against your collarbone.

“Looks like I win,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

Your heart pounded, but whether it was from the fight or the way Ni-ki was looking at you, you couldn’t tell.

“Maybe next time,” he added, stepping back and lowering his sword.

You glared at him, your cheeks burning with a mix of frustration and something you didn’t want to name. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, bending down to pick up your weapon.

Ni-ki just chuckled, spinning his sword once before sheathing it. “I’m counting on it.”

--

The day had been long, exhausting even, but despite the ache in your muscles and the overwhelming need for rest, sleep refused to come. You lay in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling of the Athena cabin, your mind swirling with thoughts you couldn’t seem to shut off.

The cabin was quiet, the soft snores of your half-sisters filling the space. You should’ve felt comforted by the familiar surroundings, but instead, you felt restless. Like there was something pulling at you, demanding your attention.

With a frustrated sigh, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Maybe some fresh air would help clear your mind. You grabbed a light jacket and slipped out of the cabin as quietly as you could.

The camp was quieter now, most of the other demigods asleep, save for a few shadows moving by the campfire in the distance. You tugged your jacket closer around you and glanced up at the night sky.

The stars twinkled faintly above, scattered across the inky black canvas. You let out a soft sigh, your breath visible in the chill. “If you’re listening, Mom,” you murmured, tilting your head upward, “a little guidance would be nice right about now.”

Of course, there was no response. You didn’t expect one. Still, the act of asking felt oddly comforting, like maybe she was watching, even if she couldn’t answer.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the lingering frustration and confusion from your thoughts. Wandering through camp aimlessly wouldn’t help. You needed to do something. Anything.

Your gaze landed on the training grounds nearby. Rows of weapons were neatly arranged on the racks for the next day’s use, and your hand instinctively reached for a sword. It wasn’t the same one you had used earlier during training, but it felt good in your grip nonetheless.

Without a second thought, you made your way to a clearing a little farther from the cabins, away from prying eyes and the ever-present chatter of the other campers.

You adjusted your stance, gripping the sword tightly as you took a deep breath. Then you started practicing.

It was awkward at first—your swings too wide, your footing unsteady. But you didn’t stop. You moved through the motions you’d been taught, the echoes of Wonbin’s voice guiding you. The weight of the sword felt familiar in your hands now, and the repetition of each movement slowly began to calm your racing thoughts.

Slash. Step. Block. Pivot.

Each strike and parry chipped away at your frustration, leaving behind a faint sense of satisfaction. The rhythmic movements grounded you, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as out of place here as you felt.

The clearing was quiet except for the sound of your blade slicing through the air and the occasional rustle of leaves. The stars above seemed to glow a little brighter, as if approving of your effort.

But then, a soft sound broke through your focus—a quiet crunch of leaves behind you.

You froze mid-swing, your heart skipping a beat as you turned around sharply, sword raised defensively.

There, leaning casually against a tree, was Ni-ki. His dark eyes reflected the moonlight, and his ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Practicing alone?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be the type.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you turned back around. “Don’t you have something else to do?” you muttered, raising your sword to continue your practice.

The satisfying swoosh of the blade cutting through the air was short-lived, though, as another crunch of leaves sounded—closer this time.

You stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Slowly, you turned back around, only to find Ni-ki standing much, much closer than before.

Too close.

You instinctively stepped back, gripping the hilt of your sword tighter. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Ni-ki didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion, the blade catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

Without a word, his sword clashed against yours, the force of it sending a jolt up your arm.

“Training,” he said simply, his voice calm and deliberate.

Your breaths came faster as you struggled to hold your ground. His strength was undeniable, and the weight of his blade pressed hard against yours.

“You could’ve warned me,” you bit out, gritting your teeth as you pushed back against him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ni-ki replied smoothly, tilting his head as he studied you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus on his movements as he pulled back slightly before swinging again. You barely managed to block the strike, the clash of metal ringing loudly in the quiet night.

“Stop holding back,” he said, his voice low and almost taunting. “Or are you scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you snapped, stepping forward to swing at him, only for him to parry your attack effortlessly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, his smirk growing wider.

Your frustration bubbled over as you struck again, this time with more force. Ni-ki blocked it easily, but instead of countering, he let his sword linger against yours, his face mere inches from yours now.

“See?” he murmured, his tone soft but no less infuriating. “You’re getting better already.”

His closeness made your heart race, and you hated that you couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or something else entirely. You pushed his sword away with a sharp motion and stepped back, glaring at him.

“Why are you even doing this?” you demanded, lowering your sword slightly.

Ni-ki tilted his head, his smirk fading just a fraction. For a moment, you thought he might actually answer seriously.

But then his lips curved again, and he stepped forward, his blade tapping lightly against yours.

“Because,” he said, his voice dropping into a near-whisper as he leaned in closer, “I like seeing you fight back.”

That was it. That little smirk, the taunting lilt in his voice—it was enough to light a fire under you. If he wanted a fight, you weren’t going to back down.

“Fine,” you snapped, gripping your sword tighter as you took a step forward. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “That’s more like it.”

He struck first, his movements sharp and calculated, but this time you were ready. You blocked his attack and retaliated quickly, your blade swinging toward him in a controlled arc. He parried with ease, the metallic clang of your swords echoing through the clearing.

The fight intensified, your strikes becoming faster, more precise. Ni-ki moved like a shadow, fluid and unpredictable, but you weren’t as easy to throw off now.

“You’re learning,” he said, his voice steady even as he blocked another one of your attacks. “But you’re still predictable.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, using your shield to deflect his next swing and stepping closer to try and land a blow. He sidestepped easily, his laughter low and infuriating.

“That temper of yours is going to get you in trouble,” he teased, but there was something almost approving in his tone.

You didn’t bother replying this time, focusing instead on matching his movements. You swung again, your blade aimed for his side, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes as he blocked you just a fraction too late.

Your sword glanced off his armor, the impact making him take a half-step back.

“Not bad,” Ni-ki admitted, his smirk returning as he circled you. “You’re starting to make this interesting.”

The praise caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the slight swell of pride that followed. But you didn’t let it distract you.

“Better than you expected, huh?” you said, unable to resist the jab as you pivoted to keep him in your line of sight.

Ni-ki’s grin turned sharp. “Don’t get cocky.”

He lunged suddenly, his movements faster and more aggressive. You barely managed to block him, your arms straining as he pressed his weight against your blade.

For a moment, you were locked together, his face inches from yours. His dark eyes bore into you, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said softly, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You didn’t deny it. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, you’d forgotten about your frustration, your doubts, even your irritation with him. All that mattered now was holding your ground against someone as skilled as Ni-ki.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

Ni-ki blinked, momentarily caught off guard when your sudden, unexpected move knocked the sword clean out of his hand. The blade clattered to the ground a few feet away, and you straightened, your smirk growing wider as you stared at him triumphantly.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” you teased, the satisfaction in your voice clear.

For once, Ni-ki seemed genuinely surprised, his dark eyes flicking to the fallen sword before locking back onto you. “I’ll admit,” he said slowly, a hint of amusement coloring his tone, “that was clever.”

You were about to bask in your victory, perhaps even throw another jab his way, but before you could, Ni-ki’s leg swept out suddenly, catching you off guard.

Your balance gave way, and you stumbled backward, ready to hit the ground hard—except you didn’t.

In a flash, Ni-ki’s arm shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and pulling you back up against him. The world tilted for a moment, and when you opened your eyes, you realized how close you were.

Your noses brushed lightly, and his face was only inches from yours. His dark eyes bore into yours, filled with that maddening confidence and something else that made your breath hitch.

“You should never celebrate too early,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Your mind scrambled to process what was happening. His arm was still wrapped firmly around your waist, his other hand pressed lightly against the small of your back. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell with each steady breath.

You should’ve said something—anything. A snarky comeback, maybe, or even a protest about his unfair tactics. But instead, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more curious. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

That snapped you out of it, and you quickly shoved at his chest. “Let go of me,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled but released you, stepping back just enough to give you space. His hand lingered for the briefest second before he let it fall to his side.

“Nice move, though,” he said, his tone almost genuine—almost. “But you’ll have to do better if you want to beat me.”

You scowled at him, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I did beat you. I knocked your sword out of your hand!”

“And yet,” Ni-ki said, bending down to retrieve his sword and twirling it effortlessly, “I still had the upper hand.”

You clenched your jaw, watching him looking too pleased with himself. The smugness on his face only made your frustration burn brighter.

“I don’t know how you can be so damn confident when you just got outplayed,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to hide the fact that your heart was still racing.

Ni-ki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Outplayed, huh?” He took a step closer, still twirling his sword. “You’re getting better, I’ll give you that. But you’re not there yet.”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?”

“I’m not cocky,” he said, the teasing tone never leaving his voice. “I’m just confident. And you’ll get used to it... if you’re smart.”

You raised an eyebrow, not backing down an inch. “Smart, huh?”

Ni-ki leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in a way that made your breath hitch again. “Yeah. Smart enough to realize that you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“I never wanted to get rid of you,” you snapped, trying to regain your composure. “I just wanted to be left alone.”

Ni-ki took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t pull away. His presence was overwhelming—like he could consume you entirely if you let him. “You say that, but we both know that’s not true.” His lips curled into a smile as he tilted his head slightly. “You wouldn’t keep coming back to me if you didn’t want something.”

Your mouth went dry, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. What was he getting at? Why was he suddenly so... intense? You didn’t know if it was the way he was looking at you or how close he was, but you felt something shift between you, something that made it harder to focus.

Before you could respond, Ni-ki backed away just enough to give you some space, but not before his gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” he said softly, almost like a challenge. “But for now, don’t forget—I'm always watching.”

He turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, breathless, a mix of anger and confusion swirling inside you. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

What the hell was that?

Over the next few days, something between you and Ni-ki shifted. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but it was there, lingering.

At first, it was subtle. A glance that lingered just a second too long, a playful comment that felt just a little more personal than it used to be. He still teased you, still pushed your buttons the way only he could, but there was a new layer to it. Every time he sparred with you, there was something in his eyes—something that made your heart beat faster, something that made you feel like he was seeing right through you.

It was hard to tell whether you were imagining it, but you felt it, that strange connection you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the usual back-and-forth banter, the constant friction. No, this time, there was something deeper. Something charged. You found yourself waiting for his gaze across the training grounds, your stomach tightening whenever he’d casually stroll past you, like he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the training yard again, sword in hand, working through some drills. You were trying to focus, trying to shut everything else out, but there he was—Ni-ki, watching you from the edge of the field, leaning casually against a tree. You tried to ignore him, but every few seconds, your eyes would wander over to him, and you’d catch him staring right back.

Finally, he pushed off from the tree and walked over. “You know,” he said, his voice drawing your attention even before he was close enough to speak, “you’ve gotten better. I’m impressed.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Don’t get used to it,” you shot back, though the words came out more lightly than you’d intended.

Ni-ki smirked, his usual arrogance taking over. “Oh, I’m not. But you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

You felt the familiar spark of irritation flare up. “And here I thought you might actually give me a compliment.”

“You really want one from me?” he teased, his voice lowering just slightly. It was almost like a challenge, but there was something else in his tone—something that made you pause.

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to act unaffected. “What’s it going to take for you to just leave me alone?”

He took a step closer, that teasing smile still tugging at his lips. “You know, I don’t think I can do that.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself holding his gaze longer than usual. You were still mad at him for everything, for the way he always seemed to be in your face when you least wanted him to be. But there was also a strange pull, a curiosity that gnawed at you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care about the things he said, about the way he looked at you.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Don’t get too cocky, Ni-ki. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Maybe you’re not. But I don’t think you can ignore me forever.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding as you tried to collect yourself, but Ni-ki’s presence was magnetic, pulling you in with an intensity you couldn't fight.

"You're not as good at pretending as you think," he said, his tone a challenge, but there was something softer in it this time.

You clenched your jaw, irritated with yourself for letting him get under your skin. "I'm not pretending," you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. "And I’m definitely not the one who’s making this complicated."

His lips curved into a smile, and he moved just a little bit closer, his gaze intense, unwavering. "You always make things more complicated than they need to be," he said, almost like a confession, like he was admitting something without saying it outright.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. What could you even say? What was there to say when everything between you and him felt so tangled?

Ni-ki took a step forward, not giving you a chance to speak. "I know you feel it too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can’t keep pretending like you don’t want this."

Your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening. You wanted to push him away, to tell him off like you always did, but this time, the thought didn’t come. Instead, you stood there, frozen, staring into his eyes, realizing that he was right. You couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t affect you, like his teasing and his relentless pursuit didn’t make something inside you stir.

A small, dangerous part of you wanted to give in, to let yourself feel whatever this was between you. But you couldn’t—could you? You weren’t sure what this was, what you were supposed to do with it.

Ni-ki took another step closer, and you found yourself backing up slightly, your heels hitting the soft earth beneath you. "You’re scared," he said, his voice softer now, like a quiet understanding. "But I won’t bite, not unless you want me to."

His words made your stomach twist, the light touch of a dare in his voice, a challenge you couldn’t quite ignore. You felt your pulse quicken, every nerve in your body alert, wanting to resist him, but at the same time, craving what he was offering, whatever that might be.

So why not act on it?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you acted on impulse, unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached up and grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward you. The suddenness of it caught him off guard, and for a split second, he froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

But then, almost as if a switch had been flipped, Ni-ki closed the distance between you, his hands finding your cheeks as he kissed you back. His lips were hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment, and the intensity of his kiss made your head spin. You could feel the heat of his touch, the way his fingers slid through your hair, tugging you closer, as if trying to pull you into him.

Your mind was a blur, every thought drowned out by the sensation of him—his scent, the taste of his lips, the urgency that seemed to pulse between you both. It felt like something had shifted, like everything else had faded away, leaving only this moment, only him.

His hands were gentle but firm, holding your face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Ni-ki’s eyes were dark with something intense, something more than just the teasing that had always been there before. He stared at you for a moment, his fingers still lingering on your face as if he were trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“You…” He trailed off. “That’s one way to get my attention.”

You swallowed, your pulse still racing, but now with a new, more dangerous energy. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually kiss me back,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Ni-ki chuckled, like he was both impressed and thrilled.

"You’re dangerous," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them, not sure if you meant him or the situation.

Ni-ki smirked, leaning even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "And you love it," he whispered, his voice sending a ripple of heat through your entire body.

You didn’t deny it. In fact, you didn’t have to.

"I’m not sure this is a good idea," you admitted instead, but there was a part of you that wasn’t sure if you were still trying to convince yourself or him.

Ni-ki’s grin grew wider, and he traced his thumb across your lips, almost teasing. "Good ideas are overrated," he said, his tone playful. "Besides, I’ve never been one to shy away from a little chaos."

You pulled back slightly, your breath catching as you tried to regain some semblance of control. "Our parents wouldn’t like this," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Ni-ki's grin never faltered, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "I never listened to my father," he said, the words casual, but you could hear the underlying truth in them. "And your mother? She has so many children to worry about. What’s one more mess to clean up?" He chuckled, the sound almost a challenge, as if daring you to argue with him.

Every logical thought you had was drowned out by his presence. You should have pulled away. You should have stopped this before it went any further.

But then Ni-ki was closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and all those thoughts faded into the background. You let him take that final step, let him kiss you again, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

His lips were urgent, almost demanding, and you found yourself responding, giving in to the pull.

He had won. There was no turning back now.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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Bold ones are untaggable* Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[angelplummie]

art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

[gilbertscurls]

Eeyore ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: where you dress up your baby as eeyore

The morning sun filtered gently through the nursery window, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. You were busy preparing for a special moment, your face lit up with excitement. You had carefully chosen the perfect outfit for your newborn, a soft, plush Eeyore costume, complete with floppy ears and a little tail. You wanted to surprise Matt, knowing how much he adored the lovable character.

With the outfit ready and your baby snugly dressed, you picked up the tiny bundle and made your way to the living room where Matt was lounging on the couch, his attention focused on his phone. You tried to contain your laughter, knowing how much Matt loved Eeyore.

As you entered the room, you cleared your throat to get his attention. “Hey, Matt. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Matt looked up, his face lighting up with curiosity. “A surprise? What is it?”

You held up the baby, whose wide eyes peered out from under the Eeyore hood. “Look who’s here to see you!”

Matt’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of your newborn dressed as Eeyore. His reaction was instantaneous, and his expression shifted from curiosity to sheer, unrestrained delight. He practically leapt off the couch, his excitement palpable.

“Oh my god! Is that—” Matt’s voice trailed off as he rushed over to you, his eyes glued to the tiny Eeyore costume. “That’s Eeyore! You dressed him up as Eeyore!”

You nodded, your smile widening. “I thought you’d like it. I know how much you love Eeyore.”

Matt’s face broke into a huge grin, and he gently took the baby from your arms, cradling him with a look of pure adoration. “This is the cutest thing ever. I can’t believe you did this!”

He carefully adjusted the little costume, making sure the ears were positioned just right and the tail was neatly in place. The baby cooed softly, seemingly content in the plush outfit.

Matt’s excitement was contagious as he started to gush. “Look at you, little guy! You’re absolutely perfect. Eeyore is my favorite! You look like you stepped right out of the Hundred Acre Wood.”

You watched, your heart melting at the sight of Matt’s enthusiasm. You knew how much Eeyore meant to him, and seeing him so overjoyed was priceless. “I’m glad you like it. I thought it would be fun to dress him up as your favorite character.”

Matt couldn’t take his eyes off the baby, who seemed to be enjoying the extra attention. He began to softly sing the opening song from the old cartoons, his voice filled with affection.

You chuckled, your own happiness evident. “You’re completely losing it over this costume.”

Matt looked up, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t help it. This is the best surprise ever. I love Eeyore so much, and seeing our baby dressed up as him just makes everything even more perfect.”

He continued to adore the baby, giving him gentle kisses on the forehead and softly speaking to him as if he were the actual Eeyore. You could see how deeply Matt’s love for Eeyore extended to your child, and it made your love for both of them grow even stronger.

Eventually, Matt carefully handed the baby back to you, his eyes still shining with happiness. “Thank you for this. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

You smiled, your heart full. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- The Proposal

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The sponsor's say they'll pull out if Lando doesn't fix his ways. So, Zak stages an intervention. Y/N can't get approved for visa, no matter how hard she tries. Zak offers to help. An honest and mutually beneficial relationship is formed.

The scene is set. The MTC is almost empty to the wandering eye, but in reality, every one was sat in the huge conference hall Zak had constructed for other reason not pertaining to the one they had gathered for. "So, we're gathered here today" Zak began only to be interrupted by Oscar, "I still don't get why I'm here when this is about Lando." Zak sighed, "This is about me?" Lando asked surprised. Oscar looks at him with a raised eyebrow and then the other people at the table like in the Office. "Oscar, this is a team problem and we must deal with it as a team." Zak spoke while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now where was I? Before I was rudely interrupted" Zak paused; "The sponsors aren't happy and want to pull away because of Lando's antics" Zak finished. "What? Why me? What about Oscar?" Lando pointed out like a child caught in trouble. "As far as I know, Oscar is extremely sponsor friendly with his long term girlfriend and polite demeanour" Zak said looking pointedly at Lando.

The table erupted in whispers, "What have I do?" Lando piped in. "The partying, the girls, the drinking. Might I continue?" Zak asked. Lando sighed, "So, what do you want me to do? Live like a monk" he asked. "No, we just need to polish up your image, make it more sponsor friendly." Zak said. "I have an idea" someone on the table suggested. "Go on" Zak prompted. "What if we say that Lando's been in a long term healthy relationship and is about to get married?" they suggested. Everyone seemed to hum in agreement. "What no? Ask me first, I'm the one involved. This is nonsense. Ask the sponsors to leave" Lando almost shouted. "Lando, you do know those sponsors are the reason you can drive in Formula One, so that we can make cars for you to race" Zak asked pointedly. Lando's shoulder's slumped, he looked at Oscar for support but he just shrugged at Lando; "Fine" Lando sighed. "So, which model is it?" he asked. "No, we need someone low- key. Out of the public eye to make this believable" someone else piped in. "But which girl will want to agree to that" someone else argued. Lando was currently a by-stander in his own life.

Finally after much deliberation, it was decided that to help Lando clear up his image; he would fake date someone who lived a normal life. And Zak would pay them to keep their mouth shut.

Y/N Y/L/N was in her last semester at University of Monaco of her Master's programme. She been living there since the start of the programme while working as a teaching assistant to gain experience towards her final goal of becoming a Professor. The university was great; culturally diverse and the job paid decently well; in her opinion. Right now, the biggest dilemma she faced was the stupid visa that for some reason wouldn't get renewed no matter how much she tried. She was sat in an almost empty cafe in the street's of Monaco, tucked away from the public. "You must understand. I'll have the job as soon as I graduate. Please extend my visa" she almost begged. "We can't Miss Y/L/N. Those are the rules. You will have to leave the country at the end of your visa" the voice replied sternly. Y/N sighed exasperated while running her hand through her hair for the hundredth time today as the call cut.

Some one else had entered the cafe during this whole ordeal, he walked up to Y/N, "Is this seat taken?" Zak asked. Y/N just nodded without looking up. "I'm sorry for eves dropping but it seems like you're having visa issues?" Zak asked. Y/N looked up, he pushed his business card forward. "I'm Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren" he introduced himself. "Y/N Y/L/N" she shook his hand. "I could help you if you'd like" he suggested. "What do you get in return?" she asked skeptically. "Well, I will have to discuss this with the person who might help you and let you know" he said. "Maybe you can forward me your CV. I can see what I can do" he spoke slowly. Y/N bit her lip before thinking, fuck it. What's the worst that could happen? and forwarded her CV to Zak. "I'll contact you as soon as possible" Zak said smiling while he walked away. "Arrange a meeting in the MTC, I have the woman for the job" Zak called his assistant.

Back at the MTC, when everyone had gathered; "So, I met this girl, around Lando's age. She is in need of help with her visa renewal" Zak said. "If she needs a visa for Monaco, wouldn't she be better off marrying Charles" Oscar interrupted. Zak sighed loudly, "Can you stop interrupting me?" he asked. "Can you stop having me attend meeting that have nothing to do with me?" Oscar retorted. "Touche" Zak relented. "So, we help her with her visa and she helps us with Lando" Zak suggested. Everyone seemed to agree unanimously. Lando was quite the whole time, he felt like he had lost any credibility since they were in trouble with the sponsors because of him. He quietly agreed to the arrangement. "Let's meet up with her. I'll arrange for a meeting. Just the three of us" he told Lando already on the phone with Y/N before Lando could even say anything.

They had decided to meet at a cafe in Monaco. The cafe was quite, with barely any customers in site. When Zak and Lando entered, they found a woman sat at one of the tables placed at the back, nursing a cup of coffee. As soon as she saw Zak, she greeted him with a smile. Lando was looking at her the whole time. Zak cleared his throat, "This is Lando Norris" he introduced Lando to her. She smiled at him, introducing herself and the three sat down when Zak began talking. "So, here's the thing, I need help" She nodded along, "If it's not money related I think I can help" she suggested. "It isn't. I need someone to help with damage control." Zak drawled. "Lando here is a Formula One driver, he drives for my team" Zak explained, watching the confusion on Y/N's face. She nodded along. "The sponsors are creating an issue, all baseless I might add. But I do want to please them and I believe, you would be of great help" Zak said. "How can I help?" she asked. "I would like it if you two would date. Maybe like a fake relationship, just for like a year or so." Zak said quickly. "I don't...this is crazy." she expressed. "I understand this is crazy, but please help me. Being with a millionaire helps" he pleaded. "He's a millionaire" Y/N asked looking at Lando now. "I might not look the part but they pay well" Lando laughed gesturing towards Zak. "This will help, they wouldn't want to cause issues for a public figure." Zak further elaborated. "Like a mutually beneficial relationship" Zak finished. "I need to think about this. All of this is too much for me" she said quickly grabbing her things to leave. Before the two men could stop her she was out of the cafe. "Told you this was a bad idea" Lando said shaking his heading, getting up to leave.

Back home, Y/N was in turmoil. She ended up googling Lando and whatever they said was true. This wasn't some MLM or cult they were trying to indoctrinate her into. And from all the news article, it seemed that Lando had bit of a reputation of partying and sleeping around. She could see why having a girlfriend would help him. She couldn't see why she could help him though. Wouldn't he do better with a model or someone famous?

A few days of her mind being plagued with thoughts of that weird meeting with Lando and Zak; the visa officer called. "Please ma'am you have to understand, I can't do anything. I can't renew your visa" he stressed. Y/N was annoyed, "Please, you can't do this" she cried. "It's out of my control" he expressed. "Please stop calling us" he warned and cut the call. Maybe, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Y/N called up Zak, "Hi, This is Y/N" she spoke slowly. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Zak chirped. "I'm good. I'm up for the offer. I'll date...I mean fake date Lando" she stated. "Wonderful. That's what I would've liked to hear" he gloated. "Let's meet at the same place this weekend. And please answer a few questions my assistant will email you before we meet" Zak said before cutting the call. Zak had to make a few more calls like to Lando and his assistant.

Y/N and Lando both received emails asking them questions most couples would know about each other. Y/N wasn't sure if she should fake a personality but decided against it and answered it as truly as possible.

The weekend rolled around rather quickly and the both of them were getting dressed to meet. The cafe seemed empty yet again, a strange occurrence in their eyes. The three of them greeted each other before receiving files from Zak. "These contain information about each other learn it. And this contains how you two met, fell in love and are now happily engaged" Zak said, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He placed the box in front of Y/N which housed a beautiful ring, "It's fake, so don't worry about losing it" Zak said looking at the pair. "I think this will turn out great. Now, Y/N, Lando's home race is soon. So, two of you will make your debut then." he explained. Y/N looked at Lando, the two of their eyes locked together as Zak explained everything.

"Here's the contract and an NDA" Zak said pulling out more papers. "How long will the contract be valid for?" she asked beginning to read it. "For a year" Zak stated. "Don't you have any questions?" Y/N asked Lando. "No" he said shaking his head and proceeded to sign the contract while Y/N took her time to read through it, not wanting to be tied by anything she couldn't be able to repay. Y/N finally signed the paper after a few more minutes of going through the contract. "Welcome to the McLaren family. Don't worry about the expenses, they will be covered by us" Zak said quickly putting the contracts away. "Pleasure doing business with you" Zak remarked. "I hope we get along well" Y/N told Lando, directing her attention to him. "Hope so. My number is in my details. I'll contact you before the weekend. See you on the Thursday after this" Lando stated. "The weekend is on the Saturday or Sunday" Y/N quizzed. "Not in Formula One" Lando said, "I'll text you the details soon" he said leaving before anyone. Y/N watched both Lando and Zak leave, confused at what she had just gotten herself into.

She reached home, kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the sofa before calling her best friend. "Guess what I just did" she said as her best friend answered the call.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654

[fathomlessgaze]

bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.  

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient. 

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily. 

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor. 

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago. 

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,” he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.” 

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw. 

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child. 

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face. 

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.” 

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth. 

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl. 

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?” 

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way. 

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer. 

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?” 

“would you like to do paperwork with me?” 

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!” 

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?” 

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.” 

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age. 

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know. 

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.” 

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.” 

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his. 

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.  

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness. 

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!” 

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?” 

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father. 

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek. 

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips. 

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?” 

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim. 

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace. 

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?” 

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers. 

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?” 

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles. 

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?” 

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first. 

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!” 

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband. 

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.” 

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes. 

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

[kooqitas]

[FULL VERSION]

#pairing: seungcheol!santaclaus x reader ♡ smut [18+, mdni], pwp #synopsis: you never believed in santa claus, until he showed up at your house… belated merry christmas guysss <33

★m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

you were never a child who believed in santa claus, consequently you became an adult who didn't teach children about the old man, it was strange, you saw your friends from school having children and getting married and decorating christmas trees and you never understood why they cared so much about something superficial... of course, as the years went by, the act of living alone in another city completely affected the christmas spirit that you no longer had! of course, you're not some kind of grinch, you don't destroy anyone's christmas, you're just not involved in this celebration.

so this is the situation: it's past midnight and you're lying on the couch in your red pajamas while eating wine and a panettone, and yes, that was the height of your christmas spirit! you were watching some random christmas movie, but to be honest, you couldn't even tell the plot since you weren't paying the slightest attention.

you decided to go to the kitchen just to get another bottle of wine.

and that's when things went wrong.

you heard a loud noise as you left the kitchen, followed by a rustling of clothes. oh great, someone would rob your house on christmas day. okay, you're not the biggest fan of the date, but damn, doesn't the thief have a family?

you grabbed a knife, praying he didn't have a gun, but when you got to the kitchen you found only a hot man on your couch- what?

you screamed, he screamed, it was pathetic!

"who the fuck are you? why are you in my house?"

"what do you mean, who am i? santa claus!"

"fucking santa claus, get out of my house now!"

and you pushed the guy out, but when you turned around there he was again on your couch. what the hell was that.

"you know it's not very polite to kick santa claus out of the house, right?"

drunk. you were definitely drunk.

"hey, hey, hey, young lady!" the supposed santa claus yelled at you. "don't turn your back on me."

"dude, fuck you!"

santa rolled his eyes, extending his hand to you and giving you a smile. "you can call me seunghcheol."

"fuck you!"

at that point, you just accepted that you were delirious. santa claus doesn't exist. if he did, he wouldn't be in your house, much less so hot and young.

"i can read your thoughts, respect me!" seungcheol scolded you, making you roll your eyes and laugh, doubting the telepathic power of the supposed santa claus. "i already understand that you want my dick in you, stop thinking about it!"

"wait. what?"

"damn, you really don't believe that i'm santa claus?" and you definitely denied it. who the fuck would believe that crazy story? "i'm here because someone wrote a letter saying that you needed an unforgettable night of sex."

"fuck, your job pays you so little that you became a prostitute?"

you laughed, and in the next second, santa claus was in his underwear. no, he didn't remove anything, they just disappeared and damn, he was so hot, you really wouldn't mind a night of sex with this crazy guy using inexplicable magical techniques.

"i can still read your mind!" he scolded. "you know what they say about girls who don't behave?"

"that they don't get christmas presents?" you scoffed.

"exactly. but apparently you're an exception, since i'm here today to give you a present... the best one."

"are you going to make me work in your toy factory?"

"no. your toy will be my dick making you dumb."

and the next minute you were on your knees for santa claus, his red underwear making it clear that he liked the present as much as you did.

you just let yourself go, if it was a damn dream caused by drinking, if it was a hallucination, if it was a crazy person who broke into your house... at this point, fuck it, you were turned on.

santa claus knelt down next to you, and in that damn stupid magic you ended up tied with a red bow, your hands were behind your back, and he smiled as he kissed the corner of your lips.

you begged for more, wanting to feel more of the stranger in red underwear in your living room, and he gave in, placing the tip of his tongue under your lips, and entering the muscle when you opened them.

santa claus, seungcheol or whoever the hell he was, was a really fucking good kisser, it was hard to believe that a great christmas story could turn you on so much, the hot, wet, dominating kiss was pathetic but you were already wet.

and then he walked around your naked body - wait what?

when the fuck did you get naked?

"i still read your mind," he chuckled softly, kissing your neck. "i already told you, kitten, i'm santa claus, i can do whatever i want." he kissed your neck again, his hand now touching your nipple. making you shiver.

you moan softly when he lowers his hand to your core, his middle finger playing directly with your entrance. ""wet." and you tremble. "but not enough, hm?"

santa slowly pushes you against the living room carpet, leaving you almost on all fours for him, still tied up. and that's where he sucks you.

you've never felt anything like this in your life, fuck, his tongue seemed magical, it was embarrassing the way you moaned like a bitch in heat.

"don't worry." he laughed. "i like those slutty moans of yours."

damn mind reader.

he kept sucking you, and you didn't know if that was experience or desperation to have you, seungcheol seemed like he was about to explode.

maybe it was both, because when he had two fingers inside you he started touching himself, shit, it was like a fucking porn to look over your shoulder and see santa claus sucking you on all fours. that was crazy.

but it was happening and you weren't going to complain!

all you could think about was how much you wanted that man, santa claus, magical being, ghost, fuck whatever the fuck he was, you needed him inside you.

"my little bitch can't wait, can you? you want my cock opening you up, don't you? you want to feel the fucking christmas spirit in your pussy!"

he untied you, and you could see reindeer flying in a sleigh when he finally penetrated you!

"fucking hot!" he slapped your ass as he thrust harder, and you moaned, something incoherent, fuck. "is this what you always dreamed of for christmas? getting on all fours like a slut while the santa claus you swore didn't exist opens up your pussy?"

you felt dirty, thinking about or doing things with santa claus in the middle of christmas? fuck, that would disgust anyone! but there you were begging seungcheol to make you cum.

"oh yeah, you're dirty! you're disgusting, what kind of cheap slut would want santa claus to cum inside her? you're sick."

"fucking hot!" he slapped your ass as he thrust harder, and you moaned, something incoherent, fuck. "is this what you always dreamed of for christmas? getting on all fours like a slut while the santa claus you swore didn't exist opens up your pussy?"

he squeezed your neck, controlling your airflow as he felt your pussy throbbing on his dick.

"this is the fucking christmas you deserve!" he spat the words.

and that's how you came.

santa claus magic? i don't know, but he came right after, the hot liquid all over your uterus.

seungcheol slapped your ass again, and you ended up falling asleep right there.

the next day you woke up in your bed, the memories of what was the dirtiest sexual dream of your life came flooding back! damn, you needed water!

who the hell was the guy you dreamed about? santa claus doesn't exist, and if he does, he wouldn't be as hot as seungcheol.

you went to the fridge and what caught your attention was the red post-it stuck to it!

"i loved the night! i hope to see you next christmas. - sc"

fuck.

♡@highvivvy, @bath1lda, @unlikelysublimekryptonite, @gyuguys, @aaa-sia, @iarayara @kwanholic @rjea @madgirlstime @gyuguys

[fastandcarlos]

Meet Baby Ricciardo : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: after welcoming your first child, you return to the paddock and introduce everyone to baby ricciardo

You smiled wide as Daniel glanced back, checking that you were still just behind him. You followed him stride for stride as he parted the crowd, allowing you to easily wheel the pram through the paddock as you headed for the garage where you could make yourselves comfortable. 

“How many visitors do you think we’re going to have today?” Daniel laughed, holding the door open for you so that you could walk in, heading straight for his driver’s room. 

You greeted a few familiar faces as you walked into the hospitality lounge before throwing yourself down on the sofa in Daniel’s room. You were already exhausted as you reminded yourself how busy the paddock was, unable to remember the last time that you were there. 

It had taken a little bit of convincing by Daniel for you to return today, your daughter in your company. He’d been pestered endlessly by the other drivers, keen to meet your daughter for the first time, unable to stall them all for any longer. 

Daniel closed the door before taking a seat beside you. “I give it five minutes before they start appearing, you know how it is around here, nothing ever stays secretive for too long.” 

“You never know, they might all be too busy getting ready for practice to come over here.” 

“No way, you’ve got no idea how excited all of them are sweetheart.” 

The two of you made yourselves comfortable, but as expected, it didn’t take long. After just a couple of minutes Daniel opened up the door to see several figures hanging around outside, desperate for their first glimpse of your little girl, someone they already adored. 

After letting you know who was outside, Daniel lifted your daughter out of her pram, handing her to you and instructing you to find a seat at one of the tables of the lounge. As you did, Daniel stepped outside to greet them all. “Do you people not have anything better to do with your time?” 

The boys all shook their heads, peering through the open door to see where you were sat. After briefing them all to be quiet, Daniel invited the group in, pointing in your direction as they all hurried over, fighting it out to be the first one to get there. 

Your smile was wide as you looked around, Oscar, Lando, Charles and Max all stood around you, their eyes bright and their mouths open in astonishment. 

“Wow, look how cute she is.” 

“You guys...she’s adorable.” 

The sound of new voices had your daughter squirming, much to the boys’ delight. “She’s so small,” Max whispered, unable to take his eyes off of her, finding his breath taken away with how tiny she was. 

Daniel took a seat beside you as the rest of the boys all pulled up chairs, sitting as close to you as possible. They couldn’t get enough as you filled them all in and introduced her properly, barely able to get a word out without them cooing over something that she did. 

“Can we have a hold?” Lando excitedly asked you, nervously extending his arms out. “I mean, only if that’s alright, I’d just love to have a cuddle.” 

“Of course,” you responded, carefully standing yourself up, moving over to where Lando was. 

A gasp came from you at how light she was as you placed her into his arms, almost scared to hold her alone with how fragile she was, struggling to keep her eyes open. 

“How did you manage to create such a beautiful daughter?” Oscar jokingly asked Daniel, able to get a much better look at her now that she was in Lando’s hold. “There’s no way she’s got any of your genes going on there.” 

“And she’s not got the nose,” Charles sniggered, feeling Daniel hit against his arm. “I’m only messing, she’d look beautiful even with your snout.” 

After a few moments Lando passed your daughter onto Max who was beside him, feeling your eyes watch over him as they passed her, still slightly terrified of something happening. “I can’t actually believe that you’re a dad,” Max smiled over in Daniel’s direction. 

Truthfully, he couldn’t quite believe it either, it absolutely felt like a pinch me moment. He was loving life to say the least, finding every day that he was learning something new about the newest lady in his life, the lady who had captured his heart from the moment that she arrived. 

Daniel hummed as he draped his arm across your shoulders. “I was never too sure on having kids, but now that she’s here, I can’t believe there was ever a moment when I wasn’t sure.” 

“We always knew you’d be a good day,” Oscar chimed in response, “you’re like an old man and an annoying older brother all in one around the paddock, the perfect qualities that you need to be a dad.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, getting exactly what Oscar was trying to say. “He won’t like me for telling you this, but someone did actually shed a few tears too when I was in labour, well, he probably cried a river.” 

“I was not that bad!” Daniel quickly protested as the other boys sniggered at your story. “It was a pretty emotional moment; I don’t know what else to say. You guys all wait; you’ll know the feeling one day.” 

The memory of Daniel would always stick with you, he was an emotional guy, but you’d never seen him so overcome with emotion in your life. He didn’t know what to say or do as his heart raced, struggling to believe what you had done, and that his little girl was there. 

As silence descended, it was soon broken by your daughter letting go of a sneeze. A chorus of coos came from around the group again, everyone’s eyes landing on your daughter. 

“Well, that was officially the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard.” 

Everyone quickly nodded in agreement with Lando, finding themselves falling in love all over again. “Do you reckon we can all mutually agree to just forget about having to drive a car today and spend all our day sat around here with this one instead?” 

It would’ve been nice, everyone agreed with Charles, but you knew it would never come true. However, the one you thing you were confident of was that you never needed to worry about your first trip back to the paddock as all the boys looked after you both, perfectly. 

“You better be coming to every race from now on,” Oscar warned you as you stood up to take your daughter back. “Do you know how calm I feel after sitting here? I’m going to need this relaxation before every race.” 

“I’m just coming to races for cuddles from now on.” 

“And I’m going to go and persuade Alexandra that we need a baby,” Charles added as Max finished talking. “It’s funny, she probably has no idea who any of these strange men sat around her are, does she?” 

“We’ll make sure as she can, she does,” Daniel smiled around at the four of them. “It won’t take long for her to know who her weird uncles are who drive cars around for a living.” 

“There’s nothing weird about us,” Lando protested, “although you can assure her we’ll be protective uncles who won’t let her ever go near a boy in her life.” 

“Can you please stop wishing my child’s life away?” You laughed in reply, “she’s barely a couple of weeks old, not a moody teenager about to rebel thank you.” 

Daniel smiled across at you as you spoke, “we’ve got all of this to look forward to darling.” 

“No way, she’s staying my baby forever.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-Captain x Reader (Mouthwash)

Part 1 - Part 2

Anya: "I'm sorry (T/n), he can't eat any of that."

You had gone with Anya to deliver her rations and Curly's, but you received those words that only left you more worried.

Anya: "Nothing solid, barely liquids... He can't even swallow unless it's with help..."

"Well... That changes my plans... I'll try to bring him something he can consume."

You mentioned squeezing the packages you had brought tightly, almost making them break.

Before Anya returned to the nursery, you stopped her, holding her shirt, like a child tugging at their mother's clothes wanting her attention.

"You can tell him that I hope that... I hope he gets better soon so I can see him?"

Anya: "Sure..."

She nodded, giving you a small smile, and you let her go carefully so she could continue on her way.

You ran your hand through your hair and looked at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes.

You continued your route to give the rations to the others.

"I want all of you to be smart, I will give you daily rations, you can eat them as you wish, but I will not give you more than what you receive in a day, you can accumulate and store them if you wish, but I don't want anyone touching other people's food, I have rationed them fairly."

Jimmy: "So some will have more than others, shouldn't it be equal?"

"Swansea does maintenance work, he needs his body strong, Daisuke is on his first trip, he's just getting used to the mediocre food we have, Anya barely eats, and I just found out that my hus-... that Captain Curly can't even swallow. If I gave everyone equal parts, it wouldn't be fair. Do you have any other complaints?"

You extended his rations, Jimmy just huffed at your response and took his food without saying anything else.

Daisuke: "So, does that mean Swansea and I are the ones who are going to get more food?"

"Just one more pack than usual, I need everyone to stay sane. But as I said, you can do whatever you want, you can store it, you can share it, but once I hand it over to you, it's completely your decision what you want to do with it."

Swansea: "Can I ask how you rationed it? What are you basing that on?"

"Well... Considering that we have eight months of travel left, if Pony Express notices that we haven't returned on time, they will have to send rescue teams. I have divided the rations to last at least nine months... But it's the last plan I intend to resort to, waiting won't work for me."

Daisuke: "Will they be able to find us??"

"Since the failed missions they had while testing, they couldn't afford to lose more material, because usually theirs ships got lost. So they installed tracking chips, but they only activate after the delivery time." 

Jimmy: "So we'll just be stuck here until that happens."

"Jim. Stop, I refuse to wait so long for them to come for us, there must be a way and I'm going to find it."

Jimmy: "If there were any kind of emergency button, we would have found it by now, there's nothing to do but wait."

You looked at him seriously when he took a few steps towards you, standing in front of you, towering you, he was relatively taller than you, and you disliked the idea that he wanted to intimidate you.

Swansea: "Hey Jimmy, stop that, we need to-"

"No, no, it's fine Swansea" you kept looking that man in the eyes "He must still be shaken up from the crash, I'm not going to give into his rudes words and start insulting him or arguing with him. At least my conscience will be clear that at least I tried to help and didn't just wait."

You raised your chin when you said that, before turning around to leave, muttering under your breath, unable to believe the insolence of that man.

What bothered you the most was the fact that you had known him for a long time, Curly and he are good friends, but his attitude towards you makes you feel like you never got along with him.

You saved the rations that were supposed to be for Curly, and decided to reorganize everything again to distract yourself.

"Even without being present... you help a bit..."

You murmured while separating the portions, which became a bit larger due to Curly's inability to eat anything solid.

Daisuke: "Captain (T/n)..."

You looked up upon hearing that, quickly left the storage room, closing the door behind you.

"Daisuke? Do you need something?"

Daisuke: "I believe that if we are going to get out of here, I trust you!"

You couldn't help but smile at his words; you knew you had to inspire confidence in others during these difficult times, but hearing it directly from one of the crew members really made you happy, and even made you trust yourself. 

Daisuke: "I will help with whatever is necessary! Maybe I can even go into space this time!"

"Uh-hu, no way, you don't have the proper training, you're going to float out there and get devoured by intern-eating aliens."

Daisuke: "Eh-?! You don't have to be so mean about it!"

You put your hands on his shoulders, smiling at him. 

"You are going to help me much more in here than out there, I assure you, you have already done a lot for me."

Daisuke: "Really?"

You nodded, making the boy feel proud.

You wanted to protect them all.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

Session 1 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it 🤠" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest. 

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening. 

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder. 

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog. 

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed. 

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest. 

They must have gotten what they deserved, right? 

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up. 

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense. 

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit. 

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps. 

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage. 

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.  

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face? 

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar. 

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him? 

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it. 

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted. 

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls. 

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes. 

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is. 

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet. 

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early. 

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest. 

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood. 

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo? 

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath. 

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously. 

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier. 

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren’t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face. 

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to. 

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well? 

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered? 

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest. 

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise. 

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.” 

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that. 

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least. 

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this. 

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide. 

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze. 

Chilling. But the least bit surprising. 

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest. 

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite. 

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them. 

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless. 

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away. 

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether. 

And that was after only a few hours. 

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job. 

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man. 

How long you would last—if he would let you. 

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you. 

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving. 

But the moment was…odd. 

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient. 

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out. 

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least. 

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths? 

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral). 

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health. 

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake. 

But somebody has to do it. 

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you. 

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of. 

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one. 

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.” 

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips. 

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?” 

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it. 

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste. 

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to. 

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man. 

A good turned evil. 

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one. 

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it. 

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient. 

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less. 

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms. 

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

 You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall. 

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak. 

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.” 

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two. 

You had never been this close. 

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to. 

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.  

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity. 

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again. 

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you. 

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”  

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest. 

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware. 

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?” 

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff. 

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?” 

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.    

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics. 

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel. 

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all. 

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face. 

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries. 

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen. 

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words. 

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear. 

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there.  everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

[rafeandonlyrafe]

yoga

words: 1.2k

warnings: sexual assault!! (not from rafe), established relationship, brief violence but its nothing more serious than a shove, rafe is a bit grumpy at first but hes a softie for his girl

“can't believe you're dragging me to this dumb shit.” rafe grumbles, both yoga mats tucked under his arm.

“oh come on, it's an intermediate class! it'll probably be challenging.” you enter into the room, spotting a good place for your mats near the back of the room as you navigate through the people who arrived even earlier than you.

“besides.” you hum. “it's good to stretch those big muscles of yours.” you poke rafes bicep with a sly smile on your face, getting on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

rafe grumbles something under his breath, but the frown is gone from his lips as he lays out your mat and then his.

you both sit, arranging your other workout supplies, only one large water bottle shared between the two of you, rafe insists there's no need to bring two, liking when you're at the gym and have to come over to him to take a drink.

“people take their shoes off?” rafes face scrunches up as he looks around the room.

you can't help but giggle. “you don't have to if you don't want to, baby.”

“yeah, im definitely not.” rafe resists the urge to leave, call it quits on this class. he looks at you, reminding himself who he's doing this shit for.

“ive never taken this guy's class before, you know i always go to ashleys on tuesdays and thursdays.” you keep your voice lowered as the instructor walks into the room, greeting a few people before heading to the speakers to get the music for the class setup.

“yeah, i like ashley better than this guy.” rafe is extra thankful he agreed when you dragged him away from his weights. something about this guy already irks rafe.

you roll your eyes at rafe, chuckling softly.

“alright, hello everyone.” the instructor says, stepping to his mat at the front of the class. “i see some new faces so let me introduce myself. im christopher and this is intermediate yoga. if at any point a pose is too difficult for you, feel free to modify or drop into child's pose…”

he continues with his normal speal that you tune out, favoring to watch rafe in the reflection of the mirror, admiring your boyfriends handsome features.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, too distracted to realize that the class had started as you quickly get into the first warm up poses.

the class flows naturally into the harder moves, the instructor walking around the room on occasion to double check no one is extending themselves too far or arching their back improperly when they're not supposed to.

you move into downward dog upon his instruction, your eyes flickering over to rafe as his shirt falls down his torso slightly, revealing his muscled abs.

you yell when a pair of hands suddenly grab your hips, pulling you a couple inches backwards.

“just correcting your form, dear.” christopher says.

you swallow harshly, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment at being so distracted and shouting out.

“you okay?” rafe asks, not caring that the instructor is still standing just a few feet away.

“yeah.” you quickly nod. you know rafe is probably resisting the urge to beat the shit out of him for touching you, not realizing it's quite normal in these classes, although ashley always asks your permission beforehand.

“now lower yourself onto your stomach.” the instructor comes to stand behind you again, so you make sure you're doing everything properly with the highest level of fluidity you can.

“and now spread your legs. sit back into your heels and lower your belly button to the earth. arms extend forward for wide childs pose.”

you can practically feel the instructors eyes still on you, and you know from the way rafes head is lifted that he's paying very close attention to his movements.

he leans down next to you and places his hands on your thighs, going to adjust your pose again, but you gasp when his hands don't slide to your hips and instead onto your butt.

rafe is onto his feet in a flash. “get your fucking hands off her.”

he doesn't wait for the instructor to react, pulling him off of you and pushing him into the wall. you flip to sit, as everyone else in the room does to watch the scene unfold.

“i was just correcting her form!” he quickly defends himself.

“as if.” rafe scoffs. “you were fucking groping her ass. get the fuck out of here and i never want to see you at this gym again, consider yourself fired.”

“fired?” christopher shrieks. he's not a small man, but he looks pewny next to rafe. “you can't fire me!”

“would you rather me call the police on you?” rafe grunts. “i prefer to handle shit on my own but if that's what you want…”

“you can't prove anything.” christopher says.

“i… i saw it too.” a woman next to you stands up, coming to your defense even though she doesn't look 100% sure about it.

“and he touched me inappropriately the other week.” another woman stands up. “i thought i was just being sensitive but if he's doing this to other women…”

the rest of the class nods in agreement, clearly this is a pattern with this creep.

“now get the fuck out.” rafe shoves christopher away. “and never touch another person without their permission ever again.”

everyone's eyes are on christopher as he leaves, fleeing in obvious fear.

“baby-” rafe drops down onto his knees, both his hands cupping your face. “are you okay?”

“i-” you bottom lip quivers before tears run down your cheeks. rafe moves quickly, scooping you into his lap and holding you tightly against him, letting your emotions run their course.

he watches as the other women and couple spread out guys collect their mats, understanding they aren't getting a full class today before they head out of the room.

“im so sorry, baby.” rafe coos softly. “he'll never touch you again. i won't let anyone hurt you.”

you sniffle into his shirt, grappling with what just happened. you tilt your head up to look at rafe, needing to see the softness in his eyes.

“i love you.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you.” you tell him, moving quickly to press your lips together in an actual kiss, letting yourself find comfort in his mouth.

you pull away with a content sigh, wiping your face with your palms before you slide out of rafes arms. “im… im okay.” you say honestly, glad nothing further happened. “thanks to you.”

“come on.” rafe stands. “let's get our mats and get out of here. ice cream?”

“mhm.” you nod, knowing rafe is going to be doting over you for the rest of the week, keeping an even closer eye on you than usual.

you walk out of the yoga room and down the hallway into the lobby, seeing the crowd of people with mats tucked under their arm taking to the director of the gym.

“there he is!” the woman who spoke out about his inappropriate touching says. “there's our hero!”

you smile at rafe. your hero.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ethanthequeefqueen @ladyinbl00d

[taintandviolent]

Trust ; Kai Anderson x virgin!reader

summary: Kai finds out that reader is a virgin, and decides he’s going to change that.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.3K | female reader, smut, use of y/n, mentions of God (referring to himself as God), coercion, manipulation/gaslighting, dub-con (kinda???), handjobs, loss of virignity, penetration (p in v), praise (though it’s Kai so… don't get too comfy with it, it's probably fake).

a/n: requested by @jazz-berry ages ago! I struggled a little bit with this one for reasons unbeknownst to me. anyway, I hope everyone enjoys it! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“It’s not like anyone here is a virgin. Besides —“ 

“I am.” You blurt, without thinking. 

Being a virgin in your early twenties seemed horribly embarrassing— although it was your body, your choice and all that. Empowerment, wrapped up with a pretty pink bow of lingering innocence. Still, the last thing you wanted was Kai knowing that, and seeing you as any different. So why had you said it? 

Silent, he seemed to dwell on the thought he was having, though his face gave no indication of what it was; impassive, stoic even. 

“Y/N.” His voice is low, commanding. It’s the voice he uses before someone gets an opportunity to do something great for him. The voice he uses before he tests someone’s loyalty. He gets up from his chair and walks over to the table. 

“Sit with me.”

He gestures to the table you fear most. The pinky promise table. You’d never been summoned to the table, never stepped out of line, or perhaps never stuck out enough to be summoned. Now, you have apparently. 

You unfold your legs carefully and get to your feet, wiping your hands on the front of your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles that had settled from sitting down. The rest of the cult waits on bated breath, waiting to see what unfolds. Kai seems to realize this, and turns to them, waving his hand dismissively. “This meeting is over. You all know what you need to do.” 

You pause and turn with intentions of joining the others as they leave. Kai immediately stops you with a stern, large hand on the roundest part of your shoulder 

“Not you. Sit down.” He forces you down into the chair, your butt hitting the cushion hard. He joins you at the table, quietly and for a moment, only stares. Takes you in, like there are words written on your face and he’s reading them. Fuck. 

Finally, one hand comes up, pinky extended. You lean forward, obediently, and link pinkies with him, wrapping your smaller one around his. 

“Are you loyal to this cult?” 

“Yes.” Easy question. You were undyingly loyal, perhaps to a fault. 

“Why?” 

You swallow. “Because I believe in its cause. I believe in your —“ 

His grip on your pinky tightens. “Don’t lie to me. That’s not what we do at this table, is it?”

You swallow. It’s like he knows, like he’s clairvoyant and can pick through all the parts of your brain that you’re hiding. Dig around like a child in a box of crayons, searching for the right one. 

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

“Try again,” he breathes, adjusting his body slightly. Irritated?

“You. I’m loyal because of you… I believe in you. I feel like you can fix this country, you can be the man that guides us all in the right direction. When I’m around you, I feel… I feel like it’s right.” 

His closed lips stretch into a smile and he huffs out a laugh through his nose. You shift around uncomfortably, adjusting your elbow’s position on the table. He’s so hard to read most of the time, and when he does finally give you an indication, it’s usually horrifying. 

“Were you lying about being a virgin?” 

“No…. Why would I lie about that?” 

“To get my attention.” 

You furrowed your brows and shook your head again, this time slower. You were confused why that, of all things, would get his attention. “No, Divine Ruler. I am.” 

Still holding onto your pinky, he leans back into his chair. The action pulls you forward across the table and you let out a little mewl. 

“I knew you were special,” he starts, looking up at the pendant light that hangs above the table. “I knew, from the moment you became a part of my cause, that you were destined for more.” 

You almost choke at his next words. 

“And that’s why you need to let me take your virginity.” 

You can’t help but gawk, your bottom jaw falling. Had he just said what you thought? After all the missions, the campaigning, the rallying, and he’d never given any indication of personal feelings towards you and now he was going to fuck you? 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do. Do you think I’m stupid? You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me, hang on my every word?” 

He’d noticed. You gulped down your feelings, your pinky twitching in his grip. 

“You’ve even dressed for the occasion.” 

You look down at your attire as though it’s the first time seeing it; a modest, white, linen summer dress that buttons down the front. You’d picked it because of the weather. But Kai thinks otherwise. He lets go of your pinky and pushes his hands into the table to lift himself up. You watch, your eyes trailing like weights, as he moves around the table. 

“I am your God. Say it.” 

“You are… m-my God.” 

“And you trust in your God. You trust him to do whatever needs to be done.” 

Your voice wavers as you speak.  “I trust in my God. I trust him to do whatever needs to be done.” 

Kai takes your hand, lifting it. You raise with it, trying to control your nerves in a way that doesn’t betray them. So far, you’re failing. Sudden closeness brings a whimper from your mouth as Kai is hoisting you into his strong, toned arms. He sets you down on the table, wordlessly. Oh god, you think. He’s going to fuck me. 

Though terrifying, the thought tantalizes you and you can’t ignore the sudden wetness that’s pooling between your legs, soaking into the fibers of your cotton underwear. 

“You’re doing the right thing.” Kai says, low. His fingers brush your hair away from your neck, exposing it. You shudder in response. “You’re doing this for the greater good.” 

You don’t even know what that means, truly. Somewhere in your conscience, buried amongst the arousal, you know he’s manipulating you, coercing you but you can’t and won’t do anything to stop it. You don’t want to – and take a breath, inhaling the heady scent of him. You lean forward slightly, pouting your lips. 

“I am?”

“You absolutely are.” 

He’s so convincing. Your silly little brain buzzes with the contact as his hands trail up your thighs, scooping the dress up to your hips where it gathers in creamy, white pleats. Who are you to deny him? 

“You’re the most loyal follower I have, and you want me to do this. You’ve told me.” 

“No… I’ve never…” 

He tuts his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. Insisting. “You’ve told me without telling me. I’m very in tune with my followers, Y/N.” 

You nodded, knowing full well that you had – it wasn’t some secret and if Kai had paid attention even a little bit, he would’ve noticed all the times you volunteered to be close to him, to please him, to praise him, and even worship him. 

It’s terrifying once his hands slip between your legs, tugging curiously at the elastic of your underwear. It’s terrifying, but you want to crush your mouth against his and suck on his bottom lip until it turns purple. Being aroused wasn’t new to you, you knew very well what that felt like. It was a feeling that consumed you almost every single time you’d been around Kai, almost as volatile of an emotion as jealousy when he’d pay attention to Meadow, or Winter, or any other female in the cult. 

“Look at that,” he says, low. Your cotton underwear, in a skin tone shade, is swinging back and forth, hung on his index finger. The wet spot that’s grown on the crotch is telling, embarrassing and unavoidable. Your head hangs heavy, like a scolded child. Kai presses a single finger to your chin, lifting it again and forcing you to look at him.

“Like I said, you’ve told me.” 

Kai moves quickly after that, undressing himself completely and standing proudly, not an iota of insecurity or doubt present. Unlike you. His large cock hangs heavy in front of you, having gradually stiffened at the discussion? At the thought of your virginity? Who knows. 

“Touch it,” he orders, and you respond by lurching your hard forward, drawn like a piece of metal to a magnet. Your hand closes around his semi-hard shaft. It’s warm to the touch and velvet soft. Instinctively, you begin moving your hand, jerking him off. 

“Good. Good.” He hisses. “You’re doing such a good job.” 

Praise. Praise from him feels like slipping into a warm bath after a long day, like sugar on the tongue, like the first buzzes of being very drunk. You’ve craved it for so long, and up until this point, have relied solely on superficial praises. Nothing like this. His hips jerk once, his cock twitching in your grasp. It’s stiffened almost to capacity now, and Kai rips his hips away from you, groaning deep in his throat. His eyes are locked on you; two, black ink wells that seem to go on forever. You swallow your nerves again, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Scoot closer,” he urges, pumping himself in and out of his tight fist. Beads of pre-cum dribble from the tip, which he quickly swipes over and drags down his shaft.

You obey, and shimmy yourself closer to the edge of the table until your toes almost touch the floor beneath you. Kai slots himself in between your thighs, holding one of them tight against his hip. He takes a moment to line himself up, smearing the flushed head against your slick folds. Your arousal spreads, coating the tip, which moments later, breaches your entrance, pushing deeper. It’s immensely painful at first; fire explodes between your legs in a searing, stretching sting, and you quite literally feel the rip as Kai steals your innocence, mercilessly.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? You’re being so brave. I’m so proud of you.” 

His dick twitches inside you, you can feel the subtle movement in your cunt. Then, without warning, Kai drives his dick all the way inside you, bottoming out in a flash of pain and an overwhelming sensation of fullness. In an out of character act of mercy, Kai notices how your face contorts, how delicately you’re wincing and trying to be brave. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the new feeling. 

You swallow hard again and bring your hands up to his toned shoulders, finding a place of leverage where you can pull yourself up slightly to alleviate some of the pain. Most women, you assumed, had a vision of how their first time would go – and you supposed, at some point, you did too, but now, you’d forgotten it, enraptured by the feeling of your stuffed cunt, where the burn had subsided into a dull ache. The dull ache was hungry and brought you forward onto his cock, wiggling your hips slightly. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod, letting out a small squeak of approval. Kai back his hips out and you look between your legs; his thick cock is coated in clear fluid, your fluid. You see the look in his half-lidded eyes, heavy with lust and hunger. Holding tight onto your plush hip, he spears you again with his cock and this time, doesn’t stop thrusting. He finds a rhythm very quickly, and before you have time to process it, he’s pounding into you. Your pussy responds by getting wetter, adding more lubrication for the beating that your pussy is taking. Obscene, wet sounds fill the basement room, echoing in your mind to serve as a reminder of what’s happening.

“Good, good girl. You’re taking it so well.” 

You nod, pleasurable whines broken by the repeated force of his thrusts. You lean forward slightly, resting your head on his chest as he fucks you, your cheek pressed just above his pectoral muscle. Kai’s hands drift around your back, and one latches onto the back of your neck, pressing your face tighter against his body. You can’t tell if it’s an act of tenderness or one of malice – but your body responds by shuddering closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, too. 

It hits you suddenly; a pressure on your lower abdomen and a burning, but not the same kind of burn as before – it’s a new one. It feels like you’re holding back piss, but you know deep down you don’t have to. 

“Oh god,” you whisper. 

“What?” He asks, no concern in his voice. It’s more of an automated response than a caring one. 

“I feel like… I’m going to… oh god.” 

You feel Kai nod. “Good, let go.” 

The coil in your stomach winds tighter and after a few more thrusts, hitting a deep spot within you, snaps. You cry out as your cunt clenches around his cock, fluttering desperately in slick, dripping pulses. His thrusts get more feverish then, less controlled, and you feel the way his breathing hitches in his throat, his chest rising and falling with uneven pants. 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he rasps. 

“I…” You hesitate. 

“Tell me, god damnit!” 

You jump and quickly stammer out an answer. “I want you to cum inside me! Please!” 

He does. Hard. 

In fact, he loses it so hard in you, pumping it deep inside your warm cunt that you feel it squeezing, dripping out the sides and pooling beneath you on the table. Kai doesn’t stop until his cock starts to soften within you, and only then does he pull out, backing his hips away from you. You whimper as his dick leaves you, but the physical contact remains. He still stands in front of you with a heaving chest, and strands of blue hair falling into his face.  

“Am I special, Kai?” 

“You are,” he responds, reaching up to brush the hair from your face. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows that.”