seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain
seen from Austria
seen from Austria
seen from Argentina
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Netherlands
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
one hit K.O.
I’m probably cheating with this BUT this is my submission to my server’s March prompt event (almost kiss) AND a happy birthday to @arashixyarts, sam, noelle, and ME! march 21 let’s goooo!
thanks arashi for the starburst advice — in the end I compromised haha ❤️
Sammy...
Stop Smiling At Him ᢉ𐭩
pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians setting: Camp Half-Blood contents: jealousy, tension, enemies-to-lovers vibes, aphrodite!reader, almost kiss, emotionally confused clarisse
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Clarisse had noticed it the second breakfast ended.
You were sitting near the campfire circle, sunlight spilling through the trees as you laughed at something one of the Apollo campers said. Your head tipped back slightly, the sound bright and effortless.
Clarisse tried not to care.
Really.
She leaned against the edge of the arena fence, arms crossed tight over her chest, pretending to watch the Ares campers spar.
But her eyes kept drifting back.
The Apollo kid nudged your shoulder.
You nudged him back.
Clarisse’s jaw tightened.
Gods.
What was so funny?
He probably said something stupid about the sun or music or whatever the hell Apollo kids talked about all day.
And the worst part?
You didn’t even glance her way.
Not once.
—
By lunch it was worse.
You were sitting at the tables again with him—some tall blond guy from the Apollo cabin whose name Clarisse couldn’t even remember. He kept leaning close when he talked, like he thought whatever he was saying was fascinating.
You laughed again.
Clarisse stabbed her fork into her food harder than necessary.
Across the table, one of the Ares campers raised an eyebrow.
“Who pissed you off?”
Clarisse didn’t even look up.
“Mind your own damn business.”
—
By the afternoon she was irritated enough to take it out on the training dummies.
Her spear slammed into one with enough force to split the straw.
Another Ares camper whistled.
“Damn, La Rue.”
Clarisse ignored him, yanking the spear free again.
Across the field, she spotted you near the archery range.
Still with him.
The Apollo boy brushed your arm while he talked.
Something hot and unfamiliar twisted in her chest.
What the hell was that?
She shoved the thought away and threw her spear again.
Harder.
—
Night fell over Camp Half-Blood quietly.
The cabins were mostly lit with soft lantern light, the air cooling after the heat of the day.
You were heading back toward Cabin Ten when you noticed a familiar figure leaning against one of the wooden posts near the cabins.
Arms crossed.
Waiting.
Clarisse.
Her expression was unreadable.
You slowed slightly.
“Hey,” you started.
Clarisse pushed off the post.
“Finally done flirting with sunshine boy?”
You blinked.
“…what?”
She stepped closer, her boots crunching softly on the gravel path.
“What were you doing with that loser anyway?”
Your eyebrows shot up.
“He’s from the Apollo cabin.”
“Yeah, I know that,” she scoffed.
“What, he likes to dance around in the sun and eat fucking rainbows or something?”
You stared at her.
“Clarisse, what is your problem?”
She took another step closer.
“You were hanging all over him all day.”
“I was not.”
“Yeah, you were.”
Your arms crossed instinctively.
“Why do you even care?”
The question landed harder than you expected.
Clarisse froze.
Just for a second.
Her jaw clenched.
“Because he’s an idiot.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The air between you felt suddenly tight.
Clarisse rubbed the back of her neck like the conversation itself annoyed her.
“Whatever,” she muttered.
“Just—stay away from him.”
You let out a small laugh.
“You don’t get to tell me who I talk to.”
She stepped closer again.
Now there was barely any space between you.
“You don’t get it,” she said quietly.
“Then explain it.”
Clarisse opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Her eyes flickered down—briefly—to your lips before snapping back up.
“I just—”
She cut herself off.
Your voice softened slightly.
“Clarisse?”
She exhaled slowly, clearly frustrated.
“You laugh like that with everyone?”
You tilted your head.
“No.”
Silence settled between you.
The lantern light flickered softly across her face.
Clarisse leaned forward slightly—
Then stopped herself.
Like she’d just realized what she was about to do.
She ran a hand through her hair, stepping back abruptly.
“Forget it.”
Before you could respond, she turned and started walking away.
Fast.
You watched her go, still standing in the quiet space between the cabins.
War kids, apparently, had absolutely no idea what to do when they started falling for someone.
Especially when that someone lived in Cabin Ten.
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taglist: @taintedheartx @elenaawritess @keiraspellbook @kennasblog @luvvvvrrrrkayyywp @bunnymabenwp @maydecays @midn1ght-ra1n @lucysfanfics @vivianwyler12 reblogs & comments appreciated ♡
Sometimes it’s the pause that unravels you, not the kiss.
DATV — Almost kiss aftermath
Hispanic? More like HISS-panic, right?
(Lucanis Dellamorte/Spite, after the "almost kiss" scene with Rook)
A silly pun I doodled in my sketchbook and coloured digitally🤭
I thought you were just being kind.
Sanji has been in love with you since the day you joined the crew. He just… never thought you could feel the same.
(pining, mutual feelings, confession, Sanji finally letting go)
✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ ✧ ✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ ✧ ✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ
He falls for you quietly.
Which, for Sanji, is almost unheard of.
No dramatic declarations. No hearts in his eyes—at least, not the obvious ones he gives everyone else.
This is different.
It’s in the way he remembers everything.
How you take your tea. How you don’t like things too sweet. How you always linger in the kitchen just a little longer than you need to.
And you flirt.
God, you flirt.
Soft smiles. Teasing comments. Standing just a little too close. Sanji laughs it off every time, because of course you don’t mean it.
Why would you?
He’s used to it.
Used to admiration that never lasts. Used to being brushed off. Used to giving more than he gets back.
So when you lean on the counter and say, “Careful, Sanji… you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you like me,”
He just grins, lights a cigarette, and replies, “Like? My dear, I adore you.”
Like it’s a joke. Like it doesn’t mean anything, and it should’ve stayed that way.
Safe. Unspoken. But you’re tired of it. Tired of almosts. Tired of wondering if he feels it too.
Tired of the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice— soft, aching, like he’s already decided he can’t have you.
So one night, you don’t flirt. You don’t tease. You just walk into the kitchen and close the door behind you.
He notices immediately.
“Everything alright, my love?”
You don’t answer right away. You just look at him. Really look.
“…Why don’t you ever take me seriously?”
That makes him pause. Just for a second, but you see it.
“I always take you seriously,” he says, careful.
You shake your head.
“No. You don’t.”
You step closer. Slow.
“I flirt with you. I stay. I come back. I choose you, over and over again.”
Your voice softens.
“And you keep acting like it’s nothing.”
His expression shifts. Something uncertain. Something… scared.
“…Because it is nothing,” he says, but it doesn’t sound convincing.
Your chest tightens.
“No, it’s not.”
You’re close now. Close enough to see the way his breath falters.
“I like you, Sanji.”
Silence. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
“…Don’t,” he says quietly.
Your heart drops.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”
There it is. Not rejection.
Fear.
Your voice softens.
“I do mean it.”
He laughs—soft, disbelieving.
“You flirt with everyone.”
“No, I don’t.”
That stops him, and you reach for him then. Slow. Careful. Giving him time to pull away.
He doesn’t.
Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
“You think I’d look at you like this,” you whisper, “if it didn’t mean something?”
His breath catches.
“And you think I’d keep coming back,” you continue, softer now, “if I didn’t want you to notice?”
Sanji’s composure starts to crack. You can see it. Feel it.
“…I noticed,” he admits, barely above a whisper.
Your heart stutters.
“Then why—”
“Because I thought it was temporary.”
That hurts more than you expect.
“I thought,” he continues, voice tight, “you’d get bored. Or realize you could do better.”
Your grip tightens.
“I already chose you. I just need you to believe me.”
That does it. Something in him gives. His hand comes up—hesitates—then settles at your waist like he’s been wanting to do it for months.
“…You’re serious,” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
Your thumb brushes against his collar.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Sanji exhales shakily, like he’s been holding that breath for weeks.
“…Then I’m in trouble.”
Your lips curve slightly.
“Why?”
His hand tightens at your waist—just enough to pull you closer.
“Because I don’t know how to do this halfway.”
Heat blooms between you.
“Then don’t,” you whisper.
That’s all it takes.
He closes the distance—not rushed, not careless, but intentional.
His hand slides from your waist to your back, pulling you flush against him like he’s finally letting himself feel it.
All of it.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs against your lips, “how long I’ve wanted this.”
Your breath catches.
“Then stop holding back.”
A quiet, almost broken sound leaves him.
“I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”
You tilt your head, brushing your lips just barely against his.
“Sanji…”
Your voice drops.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you, all of you.”
That restraint he’s been clinging to?
Gone.
His grip steadies at your back—still careful, still respectful—but no longer distant.
“…Say it again,” he murmurs.
You meet his gaze. Steady. Certain.
“I like you.”
His eyes soften, then darken all at once.
“…You’re going to ruin me,” he whispers.
But this time, he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t let you go.
Not after that.
Not after finally hearing you say it—knowing it wasn’t just teasing, wasn’t just kindness.
His hand stays at your back—firmer now, like letting go isn’t an option anymore.
“…You meant it,” Sanji says quietly.
You huff a soft laugh.
“I’ve said it twice now.”
“That’s not enough.”
Your breath catches.
There’s something different about him now. Not louder. Not bolder in the way he usually is. But focused. Like all that attention he used to scatter so easily… is now entirely yours.
“Then how many times do you need?” you ask, softer.
His thumb brushes against your side—slow, grounding.
“…Until I believe you won’t take it back.”
That ache in his voice hits deeper than anything else. You lift your hand, resting it lightly against his jaw. He stills instantly.
“I like you,” you say again.
His eyes close briefly, letting it sink in.
“…Again.”
You smile, a little breathless.
“I like you, Sanji.”
That does something to him. You feel it.
His hand tightens at your back, pulling you closer—no space left between you now.
“…You’re dangerous,” he murmurs.
“Why?”
“Because I’m starting to believe you.”
Your lips brush his, barely there. He inhales sharply.
“…You keep doing that,” he warns softly.
“Doing what?”
Your voice is innocent. Your actions are not. He lets out a quiet, strained laugh.
“You know exactly what.”
Maybe you do. But you don’t stop.
Your fingers curl lightly into his shirt again, grounding yourself the same way he is.
“Sanji,” you whisper, “are you going to keep holding back?”
That question lingers.
Then—
“…No,” he admits.
And this time, when he moves, it’s deliberate.
His hand slides higher along your back, steady and warm, guiding you closer like he’s finally allowing himself to want without apology.
“You’re going to have to tell me if I cross a line,” he says quietly.
Your heart softens.
“I will.”
That’s all he needs. His forehead rests briefly against yours, breath warm, uneven. Then you close the distance—and this time, Sanji doesn’t hesitate.
He responds.
Not rushed. Not messy. But no longer restrained.
His grip is firmer now, more certain—like he’s finally letting himself have this moment instead of watching it slip away.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs, voice low, “how many times I’ve imagined this.”
Your pulse stutters.
“Yeah?”
His lips brush yours again.
“…And it’s still not as good as the real thing.”
Your breath catches.
Your hand slides slightly against his chest, feeling the steady—not so steady—rhythm underneath.
“You’re not as composed as you pretend to be,” you tease softly.
He huffs a quiet laugh against you.
“You’re the one undoing me.”
“Good.”
His hand presses more firmly at your back, pulling you fully against him—no space left, no room for doubt.
“…Careful,” he murmurs.
“Or what?”
His voice drops, just a little.
“Or I stop being careful.”
Silence.
Not tense. Not uncertain.
Just charged.
You don’t step back.
“…I’m not asking you to be.”
That’s it. Whatever restraint he had left?
Gone.
Not in a way that overwhelms, but in a way that finally matches you.
His hand steadies at your back, holding you there like he’s decided—fully, finally—that you’re not something fleeting.
Not something temporary.
Something his.
“…You’re staying,” he says quietly.
Not a question. Something softer. Hopeful.
You nod.
“I told you.”
And this time, he believes you.
— 🌊 —
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AFAGSHDJKD
insane things happening on today's gmm
Morning goodbye before going to work...
Featuring my OCs with @theycallmedarling - Nerissa and Alec. He's a detective and she's a dancer. They're married and their mornings look like this.
