#cabin ten curse

[phoenix--flying]

cabin ten curse 👀

YEAHHH!!!!

The curse of Cabin Ten, as opposed to Cabin Seven, affects all of them. It was a curse inflicted by Nemesis when she got tired of Aphrodite flaunting her love life, how many people she'd gotten to fall in love with her, a trait her children shared, so she cursed the cabin.

In The Lost Hero, we learn about the Aphrodite Rite of Passage.

“The rite of passage for an Aphrodite child,” one explained. “You get someone to fall in love with you. Then you break their heart. Dump them. Once you do that, you’ve proven yourself worthy of Aphrodite.”

Playing on the Rite of Passage, if a child of Aphrodite has someone fall in love with them and then doesn't break their heart, that person will die.

Take Charles Beckendorf for example, we're told that Silena refused to complete the Rite of Passage.

“Forget it!” Piper yelled, a little louder than she’d intended. The other kids backed away. “I’m not breaking somebody’s heart just for a stupid rite of passage!” Which of course gave Drew a chance to take back control. “Well, there you go!” she cut in. “Silena said the same thing. She broke the tradition, fell in love with that Beckendorf boy, and stayed in love. If you ask me, that’s why things ended tragically for her.”

And Beckendorf died. So did Silena, but her death doesn't play into the curse.

We could also tie in Piper and Jason, although Jason died after Piper broke up with him. But the key part of their break up? Piper didn't break up with him for the Rite of Passage, therefore she never completed it.

Also, if a curse is cast a while ago, the exact way it affects the cabin may get lost in translation. In canon the Rite of Passage is to make someone fall in love with you and break their heart, but if we tie in Jason and Piper, we can twist the curse into having to break the heart of someone you've fallen in love with or else they die.

Silena was in love with Charles, she didn't break his heart, he died. Piper was in love with Jason, she didn't break up with him with the intention to break his heart, he died.

This could also explain why Drew is so adamant about her siblings completing the Rite of Passage, no? We don't know how long she's been at camp, but if shes the oldest after Silena we can figure shes been there a decent amount of time, watched sibling after sibling lose and grieve their partner because they didn't complete the passage.

[witchhazelevesque]

Honestly, I get what Piper was saying about love and beauty being something other than her view of her siblings’ cabin but like… no, Drew had it completely correct because Aphrodite herself literally told Percy, “I hope all my daughters break the heart of a boy like you.”

[cometzombie]

Okay, but baby innocent ten year old Nico gushing on about mythomagic is the cutest fucking thing in Titans Curse. I like to think of Will and Nico in cabin 13 and he’s just lore dumping on everything mythomagic and Will has just got the biggest smile on his face because he’s never seen that kind of sparkle in Nicos eyes before😫😫😫

[rcmclachlan]

"Everyone at Harbor was... very concerned."

"Attention, all channels: Please be advised, a team from the coroner's office and biohazard removal specialists have been dispatched to LAFD Station 118 for the removal of human remains."

It takes a second for the words "Station 118" to penetrate the thick atmosphere of concentration and rage that Tommy's been floating on while he tries fruitlessly to sweet talk the Bell 505 into accepting the new safety wires he's been trying to install for the last half hour, but the second they do, he tosses down the needle-nosed pliers in his hand and makes a bee-line for the radio sitting between Dana, Nico, and the unpeeled tangerine Nico's eating like an apple.

"Did they say human remains?" Tommy's already reaching into his pocket for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers it's sitting in the cockpit of the Bell. He glances across the hangar and gauges the distance. He can probably get to it in ten seconds if he sprints.

"Shut up," Dana says as she turns the volume dial up.

"Be aware that crowd control has also been sent to clear the area. If you are called to an emergency scene in the general vicinity of Station 118, you are advised to avoid Gale Avenue and the surrounding streets until further notice."

"A kid was probably trick-or-treating and found someone's grandma who'd kicked it like a week ago." Nico takes an unconcerned bite of his tangerine, because there's something severely wrong with him as a person. "It's probably nothing."

"That's not nothing?" Tommy looks at Dana for help, but she just heaves a sigh and gives a long-suffering flick of her fingers in Nico's general direction. Which, honestly? Fair.

"They said the remains were at the 118," she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through with her thumb, not a single movement wasted. "No one there ever gave off a serial killer vibe—I'm not counting that little blond shithead from a few years ago—so I'm chalking it up to a good old-fashioned misunderstanding."

Nico coughs around a bite of tangerine, rind and all, and Dana doesn't so much as glance his way while she slams a fist into his back. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they're rehearsing some slapstick routine, but every member of the 217 knows that the second Nico gets his hands on any kind of foodstuff, he's immediately seven or eight seconds away from death.

They've had to perform the Heimlich nine times this week alone, and it's only Thursday. He keeps meaning to ask Howie if it's possible to survive solely on IV fluids, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Nico would just manage to choke himself out with the tubing.

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. "Nico, I'm begging you: chew your food. Or, like, peel the rind off first."

"Every part of the animal, my man," Nico trills cheerfully, wiping his mouth. There are orange bits stuck in his teeth.

Holding up a hand, Dana taps her phone with her thumb, her neon green nail—filed to a point so sharp it might actually violate the contract they all signed about not bringing weapons into the workplace—clacking against the screen. The sound of a calling dialing out filters through the speakers and it only takes two rings before someone picks up.

"You good, Dana?"

"Hey Mohini, I'm fine," Dana says with a small uptick to the corners of her mouth that could be almost be described as kind, and just seeing it makes Tommy's skin crawl a little. He glances at Nico, who has stopped trying to kill himself via citrus fruit and looks every bit as disturbed as Tommy feels. The last time Dana smiled, it was right before she launched herself at the asshole who told them to take their time rescuing his stepkid from the fire that was consuming the cabin his family had rented for the weekend.

They saved the kid, and the guy was too shit-scared of Dana to even consider suing her or the department for his broken jaw. He was also dealing with a sudden divorce.

The ex-stepkid writes to Dana every month. Tommy can't prove it, but he thinks he once saw her throw an envelope with the kid's name and address into the outgoing mail pile, and he's also too shit-scared of Dana to bring it up.

Dana catches his gaze and he mouths, who even are you?

She flips him off, which honestly does wonders to assuage his fears of her being possibly possessed.

"What's up, girl?"

"We heard the APB just now. What's going on with the 118?"

"What isn't going on with the 118?" Mohini laughs a little, crackling over the line. "From what I've heard, Firefighter Buckley bought a mummy for the Trunk or Treat thing they put on every year. A real one."

Startled, Tommy looks at the phone in Dana's hand and asks, very slowly, "He bought a corpse?"

Tommy can feel Dana's pointed stare on the side of his face, mostly because his skin is starting to sear, but Tommy can't do anything but stare at the phone and try to process that one. And he just can't. Every time he tries, the smell of burnt toast gets stronger.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised. We've been overdue for a Buckley-related call. I mean, it's been two months since the last one. Remember the thing with the HVAC unit on Sunset?"

He barely remembers that Buckley-related call, but he does remember the one from three nights ago in great detail, which ended with him rimming Evan until he cried and then fucking his brains out. Apparently Evan forgot to put them back in before he bought a dead body to use as a Halloween decoration.

Blowing out a breath, Tommy turns on his heel, jogs over to the Bell, and grabs his phone from the pilot's seat.

Evan, are you okay? Dispatch said something about an incident at the 118, he texts, deliberately vague. He's been told once or twice that his texting tone can sometimes border on an interrogation, which is bullshit, because texting doesn't have a tone, but he doesn't want to be an asshole when he knows Evan's probably beyond humiliated about this.

Plus, Evan doesn't necessarily know that Tommy knows about the mummy. It'll be much better if he has the opportunity to tell Tommy on his own terms.

<< omw 2 the hospital. im ok!

Or he could just be incredibly Evan about it.

>> What happened?! Do you want me to meet you there? I can leave right now.

<< Awwww <3 Eddie going 2 meet me there. Come by l8r?

>> As soon as my shift ends, I promise. Are you sure you're okay?

<< disloc8ed shoulder

Evan literally had to go to a different keyboard to find the 8. Tommy hates how hard he's falling for this ridiculous person.

>> I'll fly there if I have to. Text or call me anytime, okay?

<< :-) :-) :-)

It's three smiley faces. It's nothing, and yet something inside him eases, turns three times, and curls up with a pleased purr.

Since he left the 118 and decided to finally live the life he'd spent his life refusing to allow himself to have, he's dated four people, Evan included. What he feels when he looks at those smiley faces is more than what he felt about the other three people combined. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. He never put stock in the whole 'there's someone for everyone' thing Sal's wife likes to throw around, but then he threw caution to the wind and kissed a beautiful, babbling man silent, and in the weeks that have followed his life seems so much more than he ever imagined it could be.

He has no idea how any of this is going to shake out, and chances are he's going to screw this up spectacularly, but he taps his finger gently to the middle smiley face and hopes Sal's wife is onto something. Maybe there really could be someone for him. Maybe that someone texts like a twelve-year old.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tommy sends back a single smiley face and pockets his phone. And then immediately takes it back out and sends like five more, because he's pathetic.

Dana and Nico are right where he left them, and as soon as he gets close, Nico sits up and levels him with an expectant look.

"Are they gonna shitcan him? You know the LAFD will shitcan anyone no matter what the circumstances are," he says gravely.

Primly, Dana touches the points of each of her nails to the pad of her thumb. "Nico, if you didn't get shitcanned for tricking Chief Bailey into shrooming at the Backdraft Ball last year, I think Buckley's in the clear."

"That was a complete misunderstanding," Nico swears for the thousandth time.

Dana gives him a slow blink. "It was not. You pulled a jar of mushrooms out of your jacket and said, 'I'm gonna send Chief Bailey to Jupiter.' I have no idea why you're not in jail."

Smug as anything, Nico preens a little. "Chief B was going through some stuff and we went on a very good trip together."

Tommy and Dana share a dubious glance, because that could mean anything from impromptu therapy to having sex in the bathroom where the two of them were found. And Tommy's not one to judge anyone's sexual proclivities, but Chief Bailey is in his early eighties and has very well-documented hip problems.

"How's the human terrier doing? Did he dig anyone else up?" Dana asks. Her expression gives nothing away, but he knows she's laughing at him deep down in whatever black hole her body uses to siphon off emotion.

"Har har," Tommy deadpans, then pauses. "I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm really hoping it's just the one corpse. He did manage to dislocate his arm, though."

"I bet they're gonna shitcan him," Nico says.

"I bet Donato's gonna kill you in cold blood for eating her tangerine when she gets back," Tommy says brightly.

"Probably. I couldn't help it. Stolen food tastes better; it's a law of nature." Nico makes a thoughtful sound and gets to his feet, stretching languidly. "Since I'm already marked for death, I might as well eat her potato salad while I'm at it."

He and Dana watch him amble away in search of Lucy's motive, and Dana asks, genuinely curious, "You ever wonder if the LAFD will go against the grain and hire someone normal?"

"Only every day of my life," Tommy admits. "Speaking of which, did your friend have anything else to say about Evan's, uh, taste in Halloween decorations?"

She shakes her head. "It's with the police now. You off to see your grave robber?"

Huffing a laugh, he lightly kicks her foot. He doesn't know what it says about him that hearing Evan be referred to as a felon fills him with such fondness, but he decides to shove it out of sight until he can study it in greater detail when he's alone.

"My shift ends in a couple of hours. He can keep himself out of trouble until then." Tommy thinks about it for a second and amends, "Probably."

Two hours should be plenty of time to finish fighting with the safety wires, shower real quick, and then break a handful of traffic laws on his way to First Presbyterian. He can only hope Evan doesn't dislocate his other arm or lock himself in the morgue in the meantime.

"Hey." Dana kicks his foot and he lifts his gaze to hers. She stares at him for a moment and, terrifyingly, her mouth quirks again. "Happiness looks good on you, Kinard."

He ducks his head, smiling helplessly. "It's early days, D."

"So what? Doesn't mean you can't be happy about it." Dana shrugs. "I'm thrilled, frankly. Now we've got someone on the inside who can give us firsthand intel about what the fuck goes on over there."

"I'm not a spy," Tommy says flatly.

Dana nods. "True. But it won't be long before you're an accomplice."

Like it's a foregone conclusion that he's going to throw in with Evan and Evan's family. The hurricane could be written off as an outlier, but Tommy knows the second they come to him again for help—the very instant Evan asks—it's going to be an immediate yes.

"If it comes to that, will you bail me out?" he asks, half-jokingly. He won't do her the disrespect of trying to deny it. She's always had his number.

"Nah." Dana gets to her feet and reaches up to pat him on the arm. "I'll let Donato do the honors."

He'd rather stay in jail.

[keerysfreckles]

luke being protective🤗🤗🤗i’m a sucker for protective guys bye

jealousy — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, luke being an asshole (not to reader), unwanted flirting, slight cursing

a/n: sorry to anyone name aiden..

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

ever since percy jackson arrived at camp half-blood, there hasn't been a new camper in months. some campers liked the peace of not worrying about which cabin the newbie would join. others missed the excitement the new camper brought to the sometimes dull camp.

the end of summer was going normal for the campers, counselors, and camp directors, until aiden mckinnan stepped foot in the camp.

everyone seemed off when they were around him.

no one could understand why, until the bonfire at the end of the night.

all the campers were seated around the large growing fire. stories were being told, smores were being eaten, and laughs were being shared. luke was in the middle of telling silena and y/n how percy made everyone laugh in archery training, however he was interrupted by someone whistling in their direction.

"damn! aphrodite really knows how to make hotties!"

the trio turned at the unexpected voice. it was aiden. he still hasn't been claimed by his godly parent, so luke was the lucky counselor who had to watch him until he got claimed.

y/n and silena awkwardly glanced at each other, while luke glared daggers at aiden.

"what do you want aiden?" luke questioned.

"just wanted to appreciate this goddess," aiden sat down next to y/n, making luke glare at him ten times harder.

y/n let out a nervous laugh, "i- uh- thank you?"

"why don't you and me go by the lake and hang out," y/n hated the emphasis aiden put on the 'hang out' part.

y/n glanced between luke and silena before responding, "sorry, i have a boyfriend."

aiden chuckles, "i don't see him anywhere princess."

luke leaned forward to look at aiden, making y/n stuck in the middle of a brewing testosterone fight.

"her boyfriend's right here," luke states coldly, placing his arm around y/n's shoulders, only making her lean into him.

aiden laughs obnoxiously, "you're with him?" he laughs louder, "oh sweetheart you could do so much better."

before y/n can respond, luke beats her to it, "why don't you just leave man? we were having a nice time before you showed up."

aiden rolled his eyes, but reluctantly left the trio and went back to his own small group of friends. silena started talking about something that happened at lunch, trying to distract the three from what had just happened. it worked well, and now they were all laughing again.

luke couldn't help but shoot a few death glares at aiden from across the fire, and he moved his hand down to y/n's waist. y/n knew luke was still angry over what aiden had said, so she simply leaned over and kissed his cheek. that easily calmed him, and luke leaned over to place a kiss on her temple.

"you guys are so cute, it's disgusting," clarisse laughs while walking by, carrying a tray of smores supplies for her and her cabin. luke simply flips her off, before listening to silena again.

[totallynots8tan]

Most of what we build is entirely for that purpose. (The giant hole in the Aphrodite cabin was an accident, though)

yeah but how many things has cabin 9 created just to annoy people

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

To Lose a Lifetime

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: After erasing every trace of yourself, you make a home for yourself in a small log cabin. But after leaving Velaris without so much as a goodbye, you should have guessed that trouble would come knocking sooner or later.

Read pt. 1 to To Lose a Lifetime - HERE

Read Pt. 3 - HERE

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

The Inner Circle hadn’t seen you for weeks. And despite their best efforts, they couldn’t find you.

At some point, you had tuned out Rhys’ continuous pleading down the bond. Completely blocked him off from any of your feelings or thoughts. The bond had gone cold. Dead.

You had made sure to erase every trace of your existence since you had left. Paying in cash- not even so much as touching your account, staying in different inns every couple of nights, giving different names to passersby. You were determined to not let them find you, you didn’t want them to find you.

But as the days turned into weeks, the time slowly creeping by to almost a month, you idly wondered what their plan was to find where you had gone.

Rhys putting out a ten-thousand-dollar reward for your whereabouts was not on your list of guesses.

You clutched the paper in your hand, and a silent curse left your mouth as you pulled your hood further over your face. This fucking prick. Of course he would do something like this. You debated whether it was worth it to go around town removing the ads plastered around like you were some wanted criminal. But your survival instincts ultimately won out when you turned your head to find a few people already glancing your way. Soon enough your feet were picking up down the path of the town you were in, eager to steer clear of anyone hopeful to get their hands on that reward.

You ducked into the tree line, quickly steering off the path to avoid any more unwanted encounters. You needed to get back to where you were staying, before more people realized the hefty sum their High Lord was willing to dish out for the missing link of his Inner Circle.

You were able to make it back to your cabin without issue. Luckily, your already wealthy friend- and owner of the cabin- wasn’t particularly swayed by the bribe.

It seemed safe- felt safe. Your fuzzy pajama pants along with the fireplace had warmed you up from the autumn chill that had befallen the Night Court.  Your form curled up on the couch, knees tucked to your chest with a book in your lap. You were invested, eyes intently tracing the words on the page like a prayer, wings hanging over the arm of the couch. It couldn’t get much better than this.

You were so relaxed, and before you knew it the words on the page began to blur together as you fought to keep your eyes open against the sleep that had begun to plague you. You were so out of it you weren’t expecting to hear the sharp pounding that almost rattled the house.

You jumped, snapping upright on the couch as the book tumbled from your lap and your power flew out to slam the shutters shut on the windows. You bristled as another knock sounded on the door; this time less intense but just as startling. You groaned, running your hand through your hair as you stepped over your now discarded book, bare feet pattering on the wooden floor as you trekked towards the door. You knew Niliana was supposed to come by later for some tea and a chat- but her pounding on your door like this was completely uncalled for.

Your hand gripped the doorknob, metal cold against your warmed skin as you pulled it open, a yawn breaking from you as you rubbed your eyes groggily. “I was just about to fall asleep Nilliana what the-“

You stopped dead in your tracks as you looked up to see Rhys looking down at you, seeming very, very unimpressed.

You were suddenly wide awake as you stared at the High Lord, expression morphing into one of distaste. You assumed he would have found you sooner or later, but showing up on the doorstep of your cabin looking like this was all your fault made you want to slap him so hard you sent him flying back to Velaris.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not bothering to hide the disappointment in your tone. Rhys frowned, his wings shifting behind him as he scanned you. “I’m here to bring you back.” He stated plainly. You looked at him in disbelief, the statement forcing a humorless laugh from you. “And what makes you think I would do anything you say after your insane proposal?” You quip, folding your arms as you leaned against the doorway, the fall chill beginning to set into your bones. Despite the shivers that had begun to rack through you, you had no intention of taking this conversation inside.

“I get you’re upset, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk out on your family.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You seem to have forgotten we’ve already done that.” You replied back cooly. His eyes hardened, and you felt a tremor shoot through the cabin as he lost the tether on his power for a split second. “Don’t bring Amarantha into this.”

“And why not?” You asked, head cocking to the side quizzically. “We both knew what going to that party meant for us. It didn’t stop us from leaving. Yet here you are willing to throw away half a century of suffering to rescue a damsel that can’t seem to get her shit together.” He wrung his hands, jaw clenching as he looked at the ground. “She’s suffering. I did the exact same for you and I would do it again.” He said, locking eyes with you. He looked desperate, like he was willing to drop to his knees and grovel to get you back. His words shot pure, unfiltered rage through you. Releasing a sharp, ragged breath through your nose, you shot him a threatening glare as you stepped towards him the slightest bit.

“No- nonono- I am completely different. I begged. I starved. I fought my way through that damn forest. I crawled my way through foreign courts I knew nothing about on the brink of death- pleading to anyone that may have offered a glimmer of sympathy or help. I fought my way up here. Through blood and tears. So, when you ask me to have sympathy for someone who has the power to destroy Prythian in her finger- just because she’s having a hard time, maybe you’ll begin to understand the reason I tell you to go fuck yourself.” You snarled, wings shuddering under the strength of your rage.

Rhys seemed to lean back the tiniest bit, but still remained steadfast. “I made a bargain-“ He was cut of by your growl, your mind shot back to those nights sleeping in The Middle, fighting creatures older than Prythian itself. “No, you signed our potential death certificate.” You could tell your anger had burned its way down the bond from the way he flinched at your words. Your expression twisted into one of grief as you got caught up in the memories that flooded into your head, the starving, the sweat, the smell of death, of your family lying slaughtered in the middle of the village.

“It may be your court, Rhys. But it’s my home. One I chose to make with you, but one I could’ve and will make without you.”

You barely had time to realize your mental shields had gone crumbling down before you felt him in your head. You felt your memories being consumed by him as your face paled, eyes widening. You jerked as more memories were pulled from you, of the cold, the trek from the Winter Court, frostbite nipping your fingertips. The feel of the pathetic little dagger in your hand as you took your first life. The feel of your dry lips as you crossed the border into the Dawn Court, stumbling and delirious. The feel of your ribs as you put on a stolen shirt you had nabbed from a street vendor. The scream that was ripped from you as a knife shredded through your wings like paper-

You shoved him, hard and unyielding, mental shields slamming up as you forced him out of your head. “LEAVE.” You shouted so loud an echo could be heard from the forest, your power unintentionally carrying your voice as you saw flocks of birds being roused from the trees. You felt the adrenaline coursing through you and how it burned through your veins, searing your nerves and numbing you out as you trembled. Your power flowed through you, begging to be unleashed, slamming against the bars of its cage like a rabid animal.

You breathed heavy, tightening your tether on your power in an attempt to keep it leashed as Rhys looked at you like your memories had broken him. “GO!” You screamed, your voice cracking with the word. Rhys seemed to flinch, and a flash of understanding seemed to grace his features. Nonetheless, he obliged, backing up into the small clearing in front of your cabin. He glanced at you one last time, his expression mirroring one of guilt before you sent a rush of wind towards him in warning. His lips pursed, but his wings unfurled as they finally caught the wind, propelling him off the ground and into the air.

Just like that he was gone, leaving you breathing heavily. Sharp tremors still plagued you, and you clasped your shaky hands together in an effort to stop their incessant wrath. You stood there for a minute, out on the porch, listening to the wind whistle through the trees and the scurry of animals and no doubt other creatures that lurked in the forest. For the first time since you arrived at the cabin, you held a certain gratitude for the cold that bit at you, the temperature doing more to aid you in your attempts to ground yourself than much else.

You jumped when you felt a silky mist brush up against your arm, your form flinching as you turned around. You braced yourself, mentally preparing yourself to go toe to toe with a creature that inhabited the forest around you. But what you didn’t expect was to see another pair of wings and an entourage of shadows shrouding a man leaning against the doorway.

You were still shaking as you regarded him, you swallowed thickly, throat feeling like sandpaper. “How long have you been here?” You asked, voice trembling. You mentally cursed yourself, hand coming to rake through your hair. “A while.” He replied, his shadows still seemed to reach out to you, brushing up against you like they sensed your unease beyond your visible shakiness. Your eyes flickered to them for the briefest of moments before they trailed back to him.

“You knew where I was the whole time.” You said, the remark more of a statement than a question. He inclined his head towards you in a motion which told you that you were correct. “I think deep down we all know that he’s changed since Under the Mountain- you both have.” His arms were folded, sleeves rolled up to display the black ink that cascaded down his arms. Your wings folded in again, the action caught his eye, and he let out a sigh as his figure seemed to sag as he noticed how stand-offish you seemed.

You looked at your hands, the shaking seemed to have subsided the slightest bit as you ran your thumb over your palm. “Is he bringing her back?” You asked. You didn’t want to seem too eager to know the answer to the question, but you knew Azriel would rather you be upfront than try to bring it up later- especially not knowing when you were going to go back to Velaris.

Azriel looked at you for a long while, and you remained. You felt the worn-down wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet, the slight breeze that pushed your hair into your face, and the silence that rung between the two of you. Perhaps you knew the answer before he said it, perhaps you knew it before you had even asked the question, but it didn’t make it any less world shattering as he spoke.

“Yes.”

That one word, three letters that seemed to rip apart any hope you had left of Rhys seeing what it would do to his court, to Prythian, to you. Fifty years of suffering- the disregard of what Amarantha did to you- of what you went through in the Winter Court. You didn’t have it in yourself to be angry anymore, you felt your rage be ripped from you, violently and mercilessly. You felt the emotion rip out what was left in your chest until you were just... numb. You had given up, the dull throbbing echoing the hole in your chest like an agonizing melody. You hadn’t even been able to begin to feel the warm tears slide down your cheeks, gave no reaction, just asked in a wobbly, barely-there voice.

“To Velaris?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched.

“Yes.”

You didn’t say anything, let the silence linger in the doorway, you didn’t have anything to fill it with. Azriel pushed off the door, taking a step towards you like he was going to say something- try to say anything that could make this a little more bearable for you. But it was clear- you both knew it; Rhys had made his choice.

So you brushed past him, didn’t look at him- didn’t have to in order to know that he was reaching out to you, much like his shadows as they clung onto you like phantoms. But you ignored them, passing the threshold into the now cold cabin- the fire having gone out long ago.

And you closed the door.

[goddess-of-bubblegum]

PERCY, FOR THE LAST TIME, POSIDON IS YOUR DAD!!!

following the epic the musical x pjo headcannon:

Percy, talking to Odysseus: hm, you know it's kinda weird, i did all the things you did, and yet it didn't take 20 years to come back to camp

Odysseus: *eye visibly twitching* 10, actually, the first ten years I was at war

Percy:yeah, okay, but still weird

Annabeth: *shouting from the athena cabin while talking to telemachus* FOR THE LAST TIME SEAWEED BRAIN, POSIDON IS YOUR FATHER, HE WOULDNT HURT HIS CHILD, THAT IS THE REASON THAT POSIDON CURSED ODYSSEUS, IF IT WAS JUST ME , CLARISSE AND GROVER ON THAT SHIP WE'D ALL BE DEAD- in this essay I will-

[agoodroughandtumble]

I Could Stay Like This Forever - Zoro x F!Reader Oneshot

Status: Complete

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Summary: Zoro overhears you and Nami talking about him

Warning(s): 18+ Language, implied smut

“Mm, I could stay like this forever,” you say with a sigh, stretching out on the sun lounger. It was a rare afternoon of calm for you and the rest of the Straw Hats, and so you and Nami had taken the opportunity to relax and enjoy the warm weather on deck – and maybe catch a tan at the same time.

Nami snorted, “No you couldn’t. You’ll be bored in five minutes. Ten tops.”

Normally she would be right. Whenever you tried to just do nothing there was the inevitable fidgeting, the niggling feeling that you should be doing something, anything productive. This time however, you were more than content to lay back and enjoy the view. And it just so happened that view involved an unnecessarily shirtless swordsman doing press-ups. You hadn’t intended to stare – you were quite content just enjoying some free time with Nami but when Zoro had walked out onto the deck, half undressed and started working out only five or so feet in front of you … well, you were only human.

You bit your lip involuntarily when you heard him grunt. Fuck, he was hot. You’d always thought so, always been unable to look at him without feeling a flush in your cheeks and, well, other things. This was only exacerbated by the beads of sweat sparkling against his tanned skin, the way his muscles moved and proudly exhibited his strength and control. This man was going to be your undoing.

Lost in your, somewhat salacious, thoughts you were completely unaware Nami was trying to get your attention until she jabbed your arm. “Ow! What?”

She rolled her eyes and leant back into her lounger. “Y/N, stop being a perv and just fuck him already.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Nami!”

“Oh, like he’s listening.” Flashing you a mischievous grin she raised one hand at started waving it in Zoro’s direction. “Hey Zoro!” He didn’t look up, seemingly too absorbed in his work out. “See,” Nami turned back to you with a look of satisfaction. “So, what position are you thinking first?”

With a curse and groan you buried your face in your hands, praying that Zoro really was completely oblivious.

*

Zoro would be lying if he said the sight of you on a sun lounger, in a bikini of all things wasn’t at least a little distracting. When he’d walked into the deck for his work out his heart nearly dropped to his stomach at the sight. Sure, he’d seen you in states of undress before but usually when you were injured, which wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. Or the time when you’d had too much to drink so he’d had to help you to your cabin whilst you wrestled with your clothes because you were “too hot” – which, yes, obviously Zoro also agreed that you were too hot but at the time he’d been more concerned with you not throwing up and suffocating in your sleep. He could deal with those occasions. He’d had a specific task at hand – your safety. But this time was different. You were perfectly safe, sober, and God help him, sprawling.

Swallowing hard and trying to think of absolutely anything other than the curves of your hips and how soft and supple your thighs looked, he’d started his press ups. Hopefully he could focus on that, and only that, although at this point if he stared at the wood below him any harder he was sure to burn a hole through it.

“Just fuck him already.”

He tensed, fingertips pressing so harshly against the deck his skin was starting to turn white. Fuck who? Who was Nami telling you to fuck? Wait. Breathe. He exhaled slowly, deliberately and tried to continue unfazed despite the slight shaking of his arms, telling himself this was a private conversation and he shouldn’t be listening.

“Hey Zoro!”

Oh fuck.

He almost buckled and would have collapsed face first onto the deck if his instincts hadn’t kicked in. Did you and Nami know he was listening? He thought, he was sure, he’d managed not to react to anything he’d heard but perhaps he wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think. His cheeks were growing hotter by the second and it was taking every last inch of his willpower to carry on, feigning ignorance. It was, however, growing increasingly difficult as the conversation continued.

“I’m not fucking Zoro, Nami. Obviously I would but… I don’t know. I don’t think he sees me like that.”

He could feel his heartbeat growing faster, and was certain his cheeks were now an obnoxious shade of red – although whether that was due to his ego at the thought of you wanting to fuck him, or confusion and embarrassment of the fact that you could possibly think he was anything other than insanely attracted to you was unclear. Either way, he had to stop his work out.

Zoro stood up, making sure to keep his back to you and Nami. He tried to focus on stretching his arms but all of his senses were on high alert. Of course he saw you like that. Who wouldn’t? Fuck, he’d got a semi just by seeing you on the sun lounger.

“Right.” He could hear the sarcasm in Nami’s voice which automatically annoyed him. “Listen, you two need to stop eye-fucking each other and actually fuck-fuck each other. And then tell me all the det-ow!”

An amused smile formed on his lips – clearly he wasn’t the only one getting hot and bothered by Nami’s comments. Although as much as he hated to admit it, she was right, and he did so desperately want to fuck you. Only problem was he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking it was her idea. Still, he did have to give her credit for the groundwork, and now that he had calmed down (and there was no mistaking that the feeling was, somewhat incredibly, mutual) he was more than happy to work with his new advantage.

Part of him wanted to just turn around and tell you to meet him in the crow’s nest – to just do everything he’d ever fantasised about and more, to mark you undeniably as his own and keep you his forever. But the other half, the sadistic half, wanted to see how long it would take for you to admit what you had just said to him. He wanted you begging at his feet and desperate for even the slightest touch or the promise of validation. This was going to be fun.

[storywriter007]

Hi!! First off, I love your work. You are amazing. Okay so my request is basically I have two, both being Percy Jackson x reader comfort fics. Feel free to do one or both of neither!

1) Percy Jackson x reader where the reader has a lot of mental health struggles and is feeling very anxious and overwhelmed and overworked and dissociates a lot more than normal, but is bottling it all up from everyone and trying so hard to be okay and fine, even to her boyfriend Percy who can definitely tell something is off but doesn't want to push it. Maybe show some times he tries to get her to open up but she brushes him off. Then, she just breaks and has a panic attack and complete breakdown, and she ends up dropping something glass and cutting herself on it, and Percy finds her in the middle of it and helps her and comforts her and then they talk about it after.

2) This one is Percy Jackson x reader who gets seriously injured on the Argo II and tries to act like it's not that bad but then Percy (her boyfriend) forces her to let him look at it and it is really bad and he takes care of her and comforts her (kinda like the Leo fic where he cleans the wound on her back because I love that one so much), and then helps her fall asleep after.

Again feel free to do neither or both or just one, thank you so much I love your work!!

I've Got You - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the requests! i will answer them in two seperate posts, this one is the first one you asked for!

author's note 2: i'm so glad you enjoy my work like you have no idea how much it means to me

warnings: cursing, self-doubt, reader is struggling mentally, mentions of blood

genre: fluff

word count: 1.2k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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"are you okay?" a voice called out, replaying itself in the background.

y/n felt someone shake her and she snapped out of her daze.

"y/n." percy said, looking into her eyes. "are you okay? what's going on? you've been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes."

"nothing." she responded, unconvincingly.

percy gave her that look. like the one a mother gives her child when she catches them with their hand down the cookie jar.

"nothing!" she smiled, cheering up. "i'm fine, just a little tired."

"do you want to sleep in my cabin? maybe visit the hypnos cabin?" he proposed.

he was so sweet.

"no, no. i'm fine, just worn out." she lied. "i'm gonna take a nap."

"okay." he said, his voice doubtful.

he kissed the top of her head before leaving her cabin. as soon as she was alone, y/n's head dropped into her hands as she clutched her hair.

what is wrong with me her mind screamed.

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"are you sure you don't want to go to sleep?" percy asked, sitting on y/n's floor.

"for the hundreth time, yes percy, i'm fine." she said, starting to get annoyed.

she knows, he just cares about her, but she just couldn't right now.

"you don't have to do all of this in one day." he reminded. "all of this is due in a week."

a week isn't enough time her mind yelled.

"percy." she said, looking him in the eye. "i'm fine. i swear."

then she shot her that stupid look again.

"i'm fine!" she defended.

"okay, okay." he said. "i'm going to go to bed. stop by my cabin if you need anything."

now she felt bad. he was just looking out for her.

"i'm sorry." she smiled. "and i will. but trust me, i'm fine."

he gave her a smile back. but, it wasn't a good-luck or i-love-you smile. it was a you're-a-fucking-liar-and-i'll-leave-you-alone-but-i-don't-believe-you. percy left and y/n rested her head on her bunk as she looked up at the wood. tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

how was she going to do it? she felt like the world was on her back even more than usual.

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y/n stood in percy's cabin after he insisted that she spend the night with him. she picked up a picture frame that was on his nightstand. it was cute, it was a picture of him and y/n laying down in the new york snow.

she smiled, but a feeling of dread crept up on her as she clutched the glass.

you've got so much to do. you have such little time. i mean, you're a weak excuse of a demi-god. i mean, c'mon, who gets this stressed out? who zones out this much? percy doesn't deserve this. he deserves better. he needs better. he needs someone who isn't a borderline psycho. he's a hero. what are you? a wannabe. a parasite. he's going to leave you sooner or later. it's just a matter of time. oh are you going to cry now? you're such a fucking crybaby.

she dropped the glass. shards hit the floor as tears fell from her eyes. she held her knees to her chest and put her head in her bloody hand as she wept.

"y/n?" percy asked, shutting the door behind him.

"oh-oh my god, percy, i'm so so so sorry." she said, cleaning up the glass that had just shattered everywhere. "i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry."

"hey, it's okay." he smiled, dropping down next to her. "it's just a picture, i have it on my computer."

"no, no, i'm such an idiot. i'm so sorry." she said, hiding her teary eyes from him. "i can't do anything right."

"what? that's not true, don't say that."

"but it is true." she whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

"hey hey hey." he said, turning her face so she was forced to look at his sea green eyes. "i've got you."

she couldn't keep it in anymore. wells of tears fell from her eyes as she violently trembled. percy pulled her into him, placing her head on his chest. she wept into him as the familiar smell of salt-water flooded her nose.

"i've got you, it's alright." he said.

his voice was so soft and calming.

"i'm so so sorry." she breathed out. "i've been so mean to you and i, i broke your picture frame and now i'm bleeding all over you floor, and you probably hate me."

he backed up for a minute and looked down at her hands. they were covered in blood.

"it's okay, it's okay, don't worry about it." he said, kissing her forehead. "i've got you. c'mon, let's wrap this up."

he stood up, and basically picked her up so she would stand too.

"i don't want to go to the infirmary-"

"we don't have to." he assured. "let's wash the blood off, and i have gauze in here."

she felt like a baby as percy rinsed her hands off and wrapped the hurt one in gauze. she sat on his bunk as he carefully cleaned up the glass on the floor. after a few minutes, he sat down next to her. she just couldn't help it, tears started falling from her eyes.

he let her cry into him. he just ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head every now and then. he kept telling her that it was "alright" and that she was "okay" and that "he's got her." there was something about percy that made her feel so safe around him. maybe it was his soothing voice, or the way he smelled, or maybe it was his touch. whatever it was, it made hiding things from him draining. after half-an-hour, y/n's tears ran dry. she pulled back from percy's chest and looked up at him with red eyes.

"hey, i'm here, you're okay." he reassured, wiping her tears with his thumbs. "what's going on?"

he grabbed a water bottle and gave it to her. even he knew she was dehydrated after crying.

"i-i don't know." she sputtered. "i don't know. i've been in my own head. and i just keep feeling like i'm nothing but a screw up and a mess, and i'm so nervous for the next big quest. i-i can't. i feel like i'm just gonna lose you and i don't have enough time to figure it out. i just feel useless, like a failure whose just going to seal everyone's terrible fate."

"y/n." he paused. "you are the most capable, amazing, intelligent, kind, funny, beautiful, person i've ever met. you are more than enough. and you have time and if you can't get to things, so what? it's okay. and when the next big things happens, it happens."

she felt his firm hands around her arms, holding her tightly.

"and i'm not going anywhere." he reassured.

hearing him clear up all of the awful things her mind has been cramming into her head was cathartic.

"i'm sorry." she said, looking up at him. "i've been such a bitch to you when you were just trying to help-"

"don't worry about it. i knew you weren't doing well." he smiled. "it's alright now."

he bent down and kissed her. his arms wrapped around her upper-half as her arms wrapped around his neck. the kiss was slow and gentle. when they finally pulled away, y/n rested her head underneath his chin.

"i love you." she whispered.

"i love you more." he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

[phoenix--flying]

apollo cabin cursed apollo cabin cursed apollo cabin cursed apollo cabin curse apollo cabin cursed

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

[zarnzarn]

@irondork tags on the first post made me go heheh out loud so heres part two of the reverse odyssey au

||

1/2/3/4

They set out in the morning.

Laertes and Anticles have taken over the throne until they return with the lost king, tears in their eyes as they wave the ship off, the smallest and sleekest one, fitted with twice the sails. Penelope and Telemachus keep their eyes on Ithaca until the last moment, her nails digging into his shoulder as they stand at the bow, and then she sighs and turns them to the captain's cabin with determination.

They turn into the open ocean with nothing but hope, all thirty five men that could fit in the boat rowing unrelentingly. She remembers some of them from the march out. They had left years ago as farmers and theives, come back as weatherbeaten soldiers, loyal and hardworking.

And guilty. Grieving, even, that their king gave up his life for them, thirty-five of them with either no one to go home to, or over-dedicated to the king, or filled with some odd sense of machismo, Cmietine had said, the night before they left.

Penelope knew better. They loved her husband, these men, to the bone, as had all the others who had begged and pleaded to be chosen to come. She knew better than anyone what it was like, after all, to have Odysseus look at you with his Athena-gifted eyes, to have him pull you in with a warm around your shoulders and a rakish grin as he flattered and joked and laughed. Knew better than anyone what it felt like to be caught in his wit and loyalty, to have his love and knew that helplessly, you could not help but love him in return. And for him to have fought by their side for ten years, brought almost every man home alive?

She knew the men loved Odysseus.

And she would use that well.

"Full speed ahead!" She shouts, trying to remember the confidence of her husband's orders, and keeps her eyes on the birds.

The first year, they sail until they run out of food, all the way back to Troy and then around, with one man in each direction awake at all times to search for even a glimpse of their wayward king. Penelope demands stories while they sail, of every scrap of her Odysseus from their eyes, encouraging them with what she can, making plans and strategies with Polites and Eurylochus and everyone else for when they find him.

They treat her with respect, to her surprise, never favouring another's order over hers or hesitantly explaining the reasons why they couldn't instead of dismissing her outright, that she wryly thinks must be at least partly borne of fear.

"I mean no offense, my lady," one of them says one day, rowing hard as he talks, after she says this. "But he really never shut up about you, ever. He once spent an entire evening after battle yelling at us how you would have done better."

She laughs at the thought, cheeks hot, even as the other sailors yell about disrespect and conduct before the queen and throw various things at the young man's yelping face.

Telemachus grows well on the ship. He finds it as easy to adapt as both his parents, and is beloved by the sailors as their own as he learns to handle ropes and oars and sails.

He does not understand the curse, does not understand why the adults around him weep so much, only knows that his father now swims in the waters and needs to be brought home.

Perhaps that is why he is the one to glimpse the scales in the water on the day they run out of food, despite Penelope's strictest rationing, when they all gather on the deck to hang their heads before one last speech, as the order is finally given to turn the ship back around home.

"Hello!" He shouts, waving wildly. "I'm Telemachus! Your son!"

His father blinks at him with five eyes- greyer than his, but still grey like his own- then smiles widely, waving back.

Telemachus hears gasps and cries and his mother's shout, but doesn't really wanna turn- he's finally seeing his father! After so long! Which means they can finally go home!

Penelope nearly trips them both overboard with how hard she rushes into him, one hand to her mouth as she sees Odysseus at last, at last. He looks gaunt, tail no longer silver but bright with dappled orange and red and yellow, dark brown like his hair, and they watch his expression wobble and tears leak onto his wet face as all thirty five of them clamber to the side of the ship, trembling with emotion as they shout greetings at him.

"Odysseus!" Penelope screams, laughing with joy as she gathers her chlamys up and steps onto the edge of the ship, ignoring the panicked rush of men trying to grab at her and the begging for Telemachus to stop trying to follow her bad examples. "Come here, you great idiot- where have you been?"

He swims closer almost hesitantly, diving under a wave and then reappearing next to the boat. He looks- shy, of all things, something like raw fear crossing his face as he flicks his tail and comes closer, even as the men run to get the nets, the ropes, the tub. Penelope laughs and reaches over the bow of the ship to strain downwards, arm outstretched to her husband, tears streaming down her face as he catches the next wave enough to meet the tips of her fingers.

And then Eurylochus next to her bellows, "NO!"

They all nearly jump out of their skin, and Penelope turns to look at her brother-in-law running across the deck to where one sailor is undoing the rope wound around a dirty rucksack, bag falling from his hand in shock.

Odysseus' fingers barely touch her own as the wave passes by, and then the winds of Aeolus still trapped in the bag burst out in a furious maelstrom, carrying their ship away in one direction, pushing the ocean waters in a forceful blow in the opposite, leaving Penelope screaming her husband's name in desperation as they're pulled apart once more.

Odysseus' answering scream of horror carries on the wind back to them, and then nothing at all.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one pieces AUs

01. (don't) let them cook! ft. vinsmoke sanji!

there's something about forced dating that makes me feel all giddy inside. and yes, that's my excuse for writing this. no, you don't get to judge me. how about you just read? synopsis: "fuck off, vinsmoke."//"love ya too!" when you heard the words cooking competition, you only heard two things: cooking and competition. and you only had one thing in mind: to get the cash prize and open your own bakery. sounds easy enough, right? then, why the fuck was management telling you to play lovers along with that blonde, heart-eyed freak who was supposed to be your competitor? vinsmoke sanji. risking your heart and cooking skills, all in the name of "increasing viewer ratings"? what could ever go wrong with this? cw: crack, close proximity, sanji is a flirt, and you're one right back. smut in the next part you horny fucks, i promise. wc: 8.7k [the banter got out of hand... so, i wrote too much of it.] m.list

week 03. challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"okay then!" jordan ramsey, the head judge clapped his hands to gather your attention. cameras rolled, the crew shifted behind the spotlight, as the judge scrutinized you all under his heated gaze.

from your peripheral vision, you could see eleven more contestants, each perched on one clean, nicely-equipped station. four people in front of you, one to your side and five more people to your back.

the blonde chef continued, "working in the kitchen is all about teamwork. you're all talented on your own, you've proved that so far. but if all of you did your own thing in an actual kitchen, the place will burn down and you all will kill each other with a butter knife."

you caught the people in front of you laughing and exchanging giddy glances, all while your stomach grew tighter and tighter. a light headache built in your temples as your stomach sunk under and under and under. oh my god, nami. why?!

"so, today's challenge will be a team challenge." the older man continued, "i will divide you all into teams of two, and you'd have to work together to make this shit work. good luck!"

and your partner was obviously vinsmoke sanji. damn. curse you, nami!

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

previously: during week 02.

your right hand ran over your left arm, trying to soothe the goosebump-ish skin. the cabin was unusually cold, and you instinctively tried to sink back further against your seat to find some inkling of heat.

sighing, your gaze darted around the cabin. you were sat at the neat mahogany desk which had a framed photo of red-head with a pretty blue-haired girl, another one of a group of odd 20-somethings with stupid hair colors, like who even dyes their hair moss green?, a few files and a neat pen-stand. the walls had been smothered with tens upon tens of polaroid photos, a whiteboard with the word STRATEGY and more storage for files.

the plaque outside the cabin had read HEAD PROJECT MANAGER: NAMI.

when you had been called to her office, you had vaguely recalled a pretty red-head of the same name from the interview round, but now you sat in nauseating suspense as your nails clacked mindlessly against the wood.

creeaak! you were pulled out of your trance by the soft groan of the door opening.

"sorry for making you wait." her bold red lipstick caught your attention before she did. heels clacking against the marble floor, statement earrings swishing with every step and red hair tied into a near ponytail, the project manager walked into the room.

as she softly sat down in the previously unoccupied leather chair, her knifelike gaze was trained on you.

pretty manicured hands came to clasp on the table and she rested her chin atop them. a polite smile made it's way on her painted lips as she addressed you, "sorry about the wait, i had to take care of something important."

"it's fine," you shook your head, hands still running up and down your cold arms, "could you tell me why i'm here?"

"of course!" nami laughed but it felt more like a formality, "but before that, how has your experience on 'master chef: all blue' been thus far?"

"oh? well," you tried to think back to your experience. thus far, only two weeks had passed by, and you had shot only four episodes in total. you had managed to survive and maintain a steady reputation for yourself in the top five.

so, all in all, "good." you concluded, "it's been going pretty good."

"that's a relief, and have you made any friends here? any connections?" nami mused, and you found yourself growing confused. you had made a conscious decision to not be buddy-buddy with anyone on the show. you were here to win, not to make lifelong friendships.

clearing your throat, you admitted, "no... not yet, i mean. why do you ask?"

"it's no biggie, let me explain," she waved her hand, giving you a persuasive smile. you nodded and nami continued, "see, the production company runs this show to make money. and the contestants, much like yourself, come here to win money. with me so far?"

you nodded once more, "good. basically, the production makes money off of you as much as you do off of it."

you were vaguely reminded of hearing about the owner of the production: sir crocodile. even the name sounded shady, you had no clue how nami worked under someone like that.

"—and i make money if everything goes smoothly."

"right?" your brows furrowed, tone growing unsure, "sorry, but what does that have to do with me?"

"it has everything to do with you." nami moved backwards, each step calculated. as her back rested against the fine leather, her fingers stayed clasped over the mahogany, "with every other contestant too, to be honest. you see, if the contestants are entertaining, the viewership goes up. and if the viewership goes up, we make money. and everyone's happy."

you scoffed, fingers clasping to mirror the woman in front of you, "we're pawns, you mean?"

"don't make me laugh." words sharp, eyes sharper, "pawns don't get the chance to win 250 grand now, do they?"

"fine, continue."

"im trying to help." her tone softened. well, no, it was more calculated now. "we've noticed from the past two weeks that you don't particularly get along with anyone. keeping to yourself, barely saying anything, only work, it seems. and that's a fucking shame cause you're clearly talented and can win this show."

your eyes widened, mouth growing dry at her unwarranted praise. suspicious. "how do you know that? it's been two weeks."

nami winked, "i am a pretty good judge of character. but..." she drawled on, "you're not entertaining, girl. you are no fun to watch. and frankly, the audience wouldn't root for a character like that! it's television, after all."

"but i'm not a character," your palms flattened against the cold, wooden desk and you leaned forward, "i'm a person."

"a person who admitted in the interview round that she wants to 'win this shit' at any cost." the red-head peered at you as if seeing past your flesh and bones, "and to 'win this shit', you need to be atleast a little bit marketable. it is television, after all."

you leaned back, eyes narrowing, "what do you want, nami? say it clearly."

"hm. just look at this once." the red-head reached for one of the files kept to her left, and carefully pulled out a black file with multiple coloured tabs. she flipped through documents before settling over one, and sliding the document to you.

"what do you think of vinsmoke sanji?" nami asked as you stared down the photo of the blonde, heart-eyed freak that was your fellow contestant.

you shuddered at the mere idea of having him around.

chants of all kinds of overtly sweet nicknames left that blonde chef's lips as if it was the same as breathing air, and no woman in his vicinity was safe. you had made it your mission to stay as far away from him as possible. his darling, love, sweetheart would not sway you! but you had to begrudgingly accept that you respected him. after all, he was in the top five consistently for the past two weeks, and that had to mean something. that something being: he was a fool, but a well-deserving fool.

"he's talented," you stared at nami, stating mere facts, "knows what he's doing in the kitchen, and is a terrible flirt."

"do you dislike him?"

"i don't feel anything in particular about him." and it was true. he was attractive, had a way with words, and knew how to work the knife. an ideal man in a cringe-fail way, you suppose. but at the end of the day, he was still a competitor. you continued, "never talked long enough to get to know him, frankly."

"let me paint a picture for ya," nami grinned, cat-like, "imagine the cold, far-removed woman falling for the overtly flirtatious man. slowly growing warmer to him, talking to him, laughing at his terrible pick-up lines. doesn't that seem entertaining?"

"perhaps it does." you paused, mulling over her words. when you spoke, your voice was thick, as if you had been asked to offer your heart, "but i presume that i'm the cold woman in the story, and sanji the overtly flirtatious man?"

"you're smart."

"thankyou," you dragged the seat back and stood up, "but i am not gonna sell my dignity for the sake of a character. i am here to cook, and i'll do that."

"ah," nami tipped her head back to look at you, "what a shame. i was gonna compensate you 5k per episode. and since we have about 2 and half more months, that's roughly 20 more episode." she sucked in a breath, "such a shame, could have made 100 grand. i believe it's a good amount of money to use for the bakery."

"huh?!" your eyes widened, "what? you'd pay me 100 grand?! for pretending?!"

"well, of course." nami nodded solemnly, "and i suppose that if your relationship did well, and we got more viewer engagement and buzz... then, who knows? maybe i could have increased the price to 10k per episode." nami stood up, sighing, "but since you don't want this—"

"—you'd pay me this amount even if i don't win?"

check-mate. nami smiled politely, "of course. we'd officially put you on a contract, make you sign a NDA, yada yada, a whole bunch of things. but—"

"okay, then!" you nodded, cutting her off enthusiastically, "i can tolerate sanji, or whoever for that matter!"

the red-head cooed, "but what of your dignity?"

"my dignity won't pay my bills." you replied coolly, "should have mentioned the price and i wouldn't have bickered so much."

"you're smart," and then the red-head grinned, "i like you. let me get the contract."

"oh," the manager cut herself off, a hand outstretched in your direction to shake it, "just one last thing."

"hm?" you clasped her soft hand in yours, "what is it?"

"say you won't fall in love."

"never will."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 03. continuing the challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"you're as radiant as ever, love." the man hummed loud enough to be caught by his mic as he walk past you. and hey! it's not your fault that your nose scrunched up and disgust and you threw up just a little bit in your mouth. he seemed to be enjoying this.

your brows furrowed as you hyper-focused on the bell-pepper you were chopping, refusing to look up at sanji as he softly moved past you to go sauté the onion and garlic.

nami had advised you to stay unreactive this episode. don't flirt back, but also do not start gagging every time the blonde spoke. 'it's the start of the love story of the century!' she had said, and you had been a buffoon who had nodded, thinking 'how hard can tolerating sanji be?'

very hard. because it seemed as though sanji had got the memo to be as obnoxious as humanly possible. or maybe that was just his personality?

as he chopped another shallot into paper-thin pieces, his mouth kept running and running and running, "the first time i saw you, i kept thinking that i don't think i've met someone quite as gorgeous as you. but then you were ignoring me, and i kept thinking well that's kinda hot—"

"sanji, saute these next." you cleared your throat, giving sanji a polite smile, "i'm done cutting the bell peppers."

your partner nodded, giving you a grin, "aren't you the best, gorgeous?"

"jus' doing my job, unlike you." you mumbled under your breath as you focused your direction on another task. but sanji slowly bent down, head tilting towards you to hear you better, "sorry, did you say something?"

love story of the century, my ass.

as much as the love-story had been staged, the outcome of the challenge hadn't. you two had put aside all differences and put your best dish forward, and now you stood in front of the judge as he taste-tested your meal.

"hm," mr. ramsey paused, feeling the flavours slowly. he slowly lifted his gaze to scrutinize sanji, then landed his sharp features on you. putting the fork down, and wiping his mouth slowly, he finally started talking, "i had seen a little bit of buddy-buddy thing going while cooking today."

sanji laughed and you just coyly smiled as the chef continued, "i was scared the food is gonna taste awful, and it does." he paused, and you pretended to be shocked for the sake of the cameras rolling around you, "awful...ly good, that is. so far, today, this is the best i've had."

the other contestants clapped as the two of you bowed, muttering thankyous and holding back cheeky smiles. at the end, you and sanji ended up being at the top, and were given immunity from the next day's elimination challenge.

you had exchanged congratulations and thankyous and were walking out from the filming set when you felt someone catching upto you. towering over you, all you could see from your periphery was blonde and blue.

"hey," sanji grinned, his pace slowing to match yours, voice silken, "we did pretty good today, didn't we?"

"yeah, thanks for the help." you nodded softly, focusing on making your way back to the hotel all the contestants were staying in. it was a five minute walk away from the filming set, and once everything wrapped, everyone usually made their way back and chit-chatted in the lounge. well, everyone except you.

"don't mention it." sanji cleared his throat, trying again, "uh, you don't really hangout with anyone afterhours. you okay? which room are you in, anyways?"

"you don't need to know that."

"uh, right." he nodded, attempting to continue the conversation, "well, sorry. it's just if someday i needed to get to your room, i should kno-"

"why would you need to 'come to my room'?" your eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

pervert!

"oh?" the chef spluttered, eyes widening as he tried to defend his questionable character, "i- i was jus' saying randomly. i didn-not mean to—"

per—

"—vert!" you halted, and he halted right next to you. towering over you, he was dressed in a casual white t-shirt, jeans and a blue button-up on top. the fabric softly swayed against the nightly wind as you looked up at him, "do you have no shame?! i just met you!"

"i am not a pervert! i—"

"are you a," a small gasp, hands flying to your lips as you drank in his towering form, "liar too?"

"huh?! no!" he rambled on, "no, obviously not! i am not any kind of that thing!"

maybe you were a sadist, because watching vinsmoke sanji unravel at your words, as red as a beet made you feel giddy inside. for a moment, he wasn't the suave, fast-talking ladies' man. he was just a man. how fun! and then a sickening idea grabbed you by the throat and shook you like a rabid dog. a dawning realization. you could toy around with sanji outside of set just as much as he did with on set!

"no, no" you wiggled your index finger, and he grew red at your accusations. face warming, eyes panicky, he croaked out, "what do you mean no no?!"

"i used to think that your overtly-flirtatious nature was a facade to hide behind the real you," you tsked, face drawn up into a mock frown, "but you." you pointed the index finger at him, "you, good sir, are a pervert!"

"no!" he pointed his index back at you, wild hands trying to coherently explain his character, "i am not! i am just a lover of women."

you scoffed, "lover of women? which woman loves you?!"

his jaw slacked open, "i- there are women that like me!"

and you crossed your arms around your chest, "where?" you craned your face to look around, bringing a hand to your forehead as you conducted your investigation, "cannot see them anywhere."

but fuck, what was vinsmoke sanji if not a bastard of a man?

the same index finger that had been trying to defend his character now came to pull your chin up to face him. his voice softened, "maybe you could be the woman that loves me."

eyes widening like saucers, tongue-tied. what?! whAT?!

your steps fell ahead, deliberately leaving the man behind you. you didn't even bother to turn around shouting a high-pitched, "uh, see you at set later. bye!", you disappeared down the alleyway that led to the hotel.

"atleast give me your room number!" he shouted after you as you ran to the hotel lobby with a red face and adrenaline pumping through your jelly-like limbs.

"bye." sanji replied back softly, his gaze still tangled against the spot where you stood moments ago. he could smell the sweet perfume, almost imagine the bounce of your hair as you ran away from here. and he fought back a little smile as he shouted out to the ghost of you, "uh, see ya later!"

fuck. was this the man you were supposed to fall in love with?! what a nuisance.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 8:03 a.m.

well, if he was going to be a slick bastard, then so were you! manners be damned, he needed to come back to reality.

"morning, love." the suave pathetic blonde cheerfully greeted you as he sunk into a seat next to you at the breakfast table.

you looked up from your scrambled eggs, confused. you pointed to yourself, finger on your chest, "me?"

"who else?" he asked, digging into the waffle he had picked out for himself, "slept well, yesterday?"

"couldn't." you admitted before shoving a mouthful, "was too scared that you'd find my hotel room, pervert."

he just laughed, "the only thing i'd like to find is the door to your cold, unyielding heart, my love."

"keep searching your entire life, then."

"what's a lifetime in front of you?" he put a hand on his chest, voice pained, "i can spend my entire life just waiting for you to glance at me."

you dragged your eyes up from your plate and to him. boring your eyes into his heart-shaped ones, you paused for a moment. then another.

"i looked at you. happy now?" you went back to eating, "now shoo."

from the one moment you spent looking at him, you noticed that sleep still lingered in the cresses on his cheek, and his hair was tousled, way curlier than it was on set. and you vaguely wondered if he straightened his bangs. should you ask hi— no.

he plastered on a dopey smile, "ah, this was only one of the thousand looks i'd want from you."

"jesus christ," you muttered as you dragged your chair back, "better start counting, i'll make sure to give you a thousand glances till the finale."

he whipped his face back to grin at you, "promise?"

you made your way keep your dishes in the pile of used plates, "fuck off, vinsmoke."

"love ya too!"

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a week later, 10:53 p.m.

"someone asked me if i believed in god," sanji hummed thoughtfully, "and i replied that she's right in front of me."

"blegh!" a shiver ran down your spine, goosebump erupting on your skin violently, "please don't say things like that on national television!"

"huh?" sanji cocked his head, his hand coming to slowly feel up his stubble, wavy hair falling in front of one eye, "i thought nami-swan said to take the flirting up a notch."

nami had actually said that the relationship was coming across as staged. "add authenticity!" she said, "it'll be fun!" she said.

"i know that." you groaned, falling on sanji's bed. you two were holed up in his hotel room, trying to discuss "strategy" as nami called it. you stretched your hands and legs, toes curling as the tension slowly left your mortal body, "i know, but that's too much."

he fell on his back, laying next to you and staring up at the ceiling. his shoulders brushed against yours, and from the way sanji shuddered you were sure he felt the adrenaline pumping through his flimsy veins at 5x the speed you felt. swallowing thickly, he asked, "then what do i say?"

with 100k on the line, you had to do something!

"say nothing, have you tried that?" you answered back unhelpfully and he stuck his tongue out to retort, "how is the audience suppose to buy that?"

"love doesn't always need to be said out loud." you shrugged, using the action as an excuse to scoot away from the blonde, "i dunno, though."

"why? have you never been in love, mademoiselle?"

you laughed pitifully, a half-baked kind of sound to mask your burning face, "why are we getting to know one-other now?"

"who knows?" he grinned as he sat up, looking back at you with a certain glint in his eyes, "maybe we'd figure out how to pretend to love each other better."

when you looked at sanji like this, all big grins and tousled hair, you couldn't help but smile. he looked like a kid at the candy store and he looked at you as if you'd buy him the whole place. for a moment, you thought, if he were to smile like that, then maybe you would have bought him an entire candy store.

"have you been in love?" you asked slowly, hands coming up to fiddle with your hair.

"yes?" he tipped his head back, the blonde locks falling away from his face for once, "no. maybe not. i don't really know. how do you even classify love? cause i know i've thought about marrying quite a few women."

"just say you're pathetic." you rolled your eyes, mocking him, "'quite a few women.'"

"hey, are you jealous?" and there it was, that dopey grin again.

"no." you glared at him, sitting up, "you're just so obnoxious some times."

"you want me so bad, it's obvious." but he held up his arms in surrender lest you punch him, "anyways, what were you saying about love?"

you drawled on, trying to come up with something that made sense. eventually, pulling up empty, you muttered, "well... i've heard it's a bitch."

he laughed, and you laughed too. turning left to face him, he spoke aloud, "isn't that reassuring?"

time slowed down, the air grew thick. you and sanji looked at each-other with frozen smiles on your face. his black eyes boring into yours wordlessly, and an uncertain itch travelled up your spine. why were you two sitting so close?

gaze drifting down to his lips, you found yourself talking, "love demands sacrifice, and a lot of energy. it's hard."

but sanji was a quick-witted man, and oh, how he would be the death of you. "how can loving somebody like you be hard?"

he brought up a soft hand to your cheek, face tilting towards you. he held the inches between you, waiting for you to jump forth, grab him by the collar and kiss him till he lost all cognitive senses.

"do you straighten your bangs?"

"huh?" that seemed to break him, "uh... yeah? i like them straight."

now, why did you ask that?!

"okay, okay." you just cleared your throat, looking away and slowly shifting backwards, "well... point being, uh maybe i should start flirting back with on camera?"

"huh?" he asked softly. gaze still stuck in a haze, lips still parted in anticipation, "what?"

"about what nami said?" you emphasized, trying not to get lost in his intent gaze, "like, maybe it'll look more believable if i start flirting back."

he nodded, pulling back finally, and you questioned how much was he actually processing, "yeah, sure."

"okay, then." your legs swinged off of his bed and you stood up, "i'll see you later."

but his warm palm came to catch your wrist. warm. it made your stomach churn uncomfortably. you look down at him, tugging your wrist, "what?"

"n-nothing." he pulled his hand back to his chest, but not before tracing your rugged hands under his fingertip. his gaze fell to your knees, words dying in his throat, "goodnight. sleep well."

you nodded, wordlessly turning around to leave. pacing through the spacious room, you stood in front of the large door. your fingers hung limply around the cold, brass doorknob before you yelled at, "sanji? one last thing."

you heard heavy footsteps and the shadow of a man on your back a few seconds later. his words were hasty, tone depraved to hear what you wanted, "yes?"

"say... you won't fall in love," your voice quietened, "right?"

the pause on his end lasted a century. but when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, "never. don't worry."

"good." you turned the door-knob, opening the door with a soft creak, "501, by the way. i'm in room 501. night."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 06 challenge: friends and foes!

sanji didn't really come to see you in your room, or stand outside like some creep. both things surprised you, but you held your tongue back. it is a good thing, after all! good thing he is keeping his distance!

lost in your own world, you looked down at your palms. rugged, dirtied, cuts on each square inch from your failed attempts of cooking as a child.

"—for the nth fucking time, the kitchen isn't just about doing your own thing. it is a place of compassion, comradery and team work." jordan ramsey prattled on, rubbing his hands together as he addressed the remaining eight contestants, "so today's challenge will be simple. whoever shall win's today's match is gonna get the rare advantage of making it safe and sound to the semi-finals. that's two weeks worth of immunity."

the desperate contestants in white aprons looked around, gaze darting from one to the other as they tried to sense the threat in their own kin. a few daggers were aimed at you, and you shook off the uneasy feelings by focusing on what the head chef was saying.

the judge clapped once and all eyes fell right back upon him, "kitchen is all about making good food, but also good connections. so, today, whoever so wins gets the chance to take another person with them safe and sound to the semi-finals."

your eyes shifted through the line-up of candidates as tangled against sanji's. no words were exchanged between the two of you as you went to your respective stations. you looked over your shoulder to catch the blonde's eyes, and he smiled at you softly. holding a thumbs up, you returned the gesture.

what a dork. a small smile tugged at your lips as you turned back around to look at your spotless station. wait. why are you smiling?

for a moment you found yourself growing concerned. well, it's cause of the new strategy! you're gonna try to flirt back, yes!

but your chest tightened, nimble fingers clasping together in an effort to ground yourself. you looked back once more, and found sanji still looking at you. breath hitching in your throat, you whipped your head back around. huh?! why is he still staring?

over the past few weeks, you had come to tolerate vinsmoke sanji in all of his stupid glory. a flirt, but also someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. over the past few weeks, he had stopped flirting with the other female contestants. his eyes always coming to find yours, and when he smiled, it was always directed at you. and somehow you always smiled right back at him. why was that, again?

over the past two weeks, he had taken it on himself to walk you to and from the filming set, to offer you water between takes and to listen intently when you rambled away at whatever bothered you in the kitchen today. vinsmoke sanji made your gut twist unnaturally whenever he stared down at you like you were all his. he made your head spin whenever he smiled at you like he was all yours. what a fucking nuisance.

so, obviously, you had come to the conclusion that he must be a damn good actor to make you question your sanity like this.

to distract yourself from the dawning realization that vinsmoke sanji may have been more than you were expecting, you examined the ingredients on your counter. a slight frown covered you whole. everything sour? you never were good at making sour things, and they had come to be the bane of your existence. fuck.

jordan ramsey spoke again, "today's challenge is sweet and sour. we have picked at random the flavors for you all, and you must make the said flavor the primary one in your dish." he clapped, "you have ten minutes to use the pantry and collect the needed ingredients. let's get moving, chop chop!"

the contestants scrambled from their working stations to run towards the pantry, and you found yourself in the dairy section, trying to pick up milk.

"what did you get? sweet?" sanji asked, his words suave as he tried to pick as many things as possible in one hand, "sweet just like you?"

"sour. the way my mood gets whenever you show up." you bantered back, moving around the pantry looking for unripe mangoes, "what did you get?"

"sweet. but i don't i can make anything sweeter than you, love." he picked out a carton of milk before trailing behind you. he laughed, "i guess that's my short-coming as a chef."

"ugh, you have many shortcomings as a chef other than that." you mumbled, finally picking out two unripe mangoes.

"huh?" he leaned down to hear you better, tone so terribly cocky, "you mumble a lot, you know? sometimes, i wonder if i'd miss your feelings cause you're mumbling, gorgeous."

"my feelings right now is that can't we trade? i am terrible at cooking anything sour, i can never get the taste right." you looked over at him, and he froze as soon as you made eye-contact. you waved your hand, finding yourself growing concerned, "hey? hey? you okay, sanji?"

"huh?" stuttering, looking away from you, "i- sorry. but uh, let's try our best, gorgeous."

damn. he was good at acting. the way he looked down at you, irises practically hearts with the way he took you in, and a soft blush across his face as he tried not to drop the collected items in his hands.

well, the cameras were already rolling, might as well make a show of it. so, you found yourself on your tip-toes, your soft, concerned voice against the shell of his ears, "you're blushing too hard, everything okay?"

his eyes widened at the soft pangs of air on his neck, and he pulled back instinctively, "uh— sorry." he dropped the small box of strawberries, "s-shit, what's happening to me."

"you two lovebirds okay?" the judge laughed, "vinsmoke you look like you're about to burst open."

"s-sorry, chef." the blonde knelt down to clean the mess he had created, and you bent down to help him. your foreheads bumped and you felt him shudder as your pinky brushed against his.

"sorry, sorry." mumbling, he stood quick, way too quick. you were still on the floor as he mumbled a thanks and scrambled back to his station.

"you're welcome?" you whispered, still looking at where the man once knelt. your heart grew heavy at his absence, and you tried to ignore the way your chest tightened as you walked over to your cooking station.

when you looked back at sanji, his brows were burrowed as he stared down at the ingredients. your chest tightened more as you dragged your gaze away from him. what was he doing to you?

12:04 p.m.

vinsmoke sanji one the challenge. he muttered a faint thanks as chef jordon pinned an immunity pin to his white coat. patting him on the back, the older chef spoke again, "good job, vinsmoke. now it's your turn to choose a partner you wanna save."

your gaze drifted downward, too scared to meet his eyes. the blonde chef cleared his throat, "uh... the person i wanna save is..." the next thing you heard was your name and reluctant claps from the other six contestants.

your eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep red as you looked up to stare at sanji. you expected him to smile, to make a cocky remark, but he just met your eyes with same flushed cheeks.

the judge laughed, beckoning to you him, "knew he would pick the lady who has got him all tongue-tied. get up here, and get your immunity pin!"

"thank you."

12:52 p.m.

"this feels wrong," you mumbled, not looking up at the man next to you, "so, so very wrong."

"why?" he asked back. since the pantry incident today morning, sanji had recovered fully into his unabashed, perverted self, "would you have not picked me if you had won, pretty?"

"of course, i would have." and it surprised you how easily those words came to you. you turned to face sanji, "but only cause i know nami would have wanted us to..." you paused, "pick each other, and not- not because of any other reason! it's for the viewership!"

"i know," he nodded, and his hair shone under the overhead sun. face casted under melancholic shadows, he concluded, "it's the same for me, so, don't feel so guilty. this is good for making people think we're together."

"maybe." you two were walking back to the hotel, talking amongst each-other as you crossed the busy road. you fidgeted, "but i don't wanna be in your debt."

"well," the blonde stretched his arms upwards, the muscles of his bicep straining under the button-up, "i mean, you can always pay me back. but just being in your ever-radiant presence alone is a cathartic expe—"

what does that pervert mean now?!

"what do you mean?!" and your words came out more accusatorily than you intended. eyes flaming as you stared up at him, index finger jabbed square in his chest.

you felt the firm muscle underneath and pulled back when your stupid brain suggested to feel him up more. the picture of a flushed-face sanji under you, top off, flashed in your mind and you shook your head wildly to let the image out of your filthy brain. were you growing just as perverted living with him?! how terrible!!

you started walking again. fast. and stumbling over your words like a drunkard, you tried again, "uh- what do you want?"

he held up his arms, long legs falling in tandem with your rushed steps, "i meant like you could buy me a drink or something maybe?"

"oh?" you looked at him, dumbfounded, "just drinks?"

"huh?" a smug grin tugged at his lips, and he shrugged, "wanna pay me back some other way? i wouldn't be opposed to it—"

"—no!" you pushed him away, rushing to get into the hotel lobby, "no! obviously not." collecting your keys from the reception, you called him over your shoulder, "just uh, text me the details of where you wanna meet. okay?"

12:55 p.m.

"—but is it correct?" your tone was hasty and the red-head laughed, "yeah, totally. i can send some paps to take staged photos of you two walking into the bar. they'll click a few shots, leak them and voila! tiktok edits of you two will start circulating. it'll be soo good for business."

"so, you want me to agree to go out for drinks with him for the sake of more engagement?" you huffed, sinking down on the soft mattress, "that's coldhearted."

"hey, you are the one who asked if you can go with him." you could almost imagine the red-head sinking back into her leather chair as she spun up some idiotic genius scheme, "and i'm saying i can use this opportunity to further your relationship thingy. say 'thanks nami!'"

"thanks, nami?" you mumbled and she laughed, "have fun with your date today! let me know the details and i'll send the paps!"

before you could explain that this wasn't a date! you were just repaying favours! nami cut the call.

you swiped through your messages to see sanji's unread ones. it read:

VINSMOKE SANJI: 12: 54 uh, mclaren's pub tonight? 12:54 does 8 work for you? 12:54 it's nearby, we can walk. idm. 12:56 sorry about the triple-texting, i swear i'm not desperate. 12: 59 okay maybe a little desperate but uh, see you at eight.

mclaren's was the bar a street away from your hotel. since all the shooting sets were nearby, packed into one neat hub in the grand LAX, the filming crew, management and occasionally, the contestants got to frequent the bar. it was a selective pub, only letting people with specific IDs in.

YOU: 12:59 yeah, eight works fine. see you down at the lobby.

VINSMOKE SANJI: 1:00 can't wait, gorgeous. 1:00 i mean i can wait, don't worry. 1:01 sorry that sounded like i am forcing you to be on time. i don't mind punctuality. 1:01 i do, but only in the kitchen. sorry about that.

jesus christ. you almost snickered at how pathetic sanji was at texting.

YOU: 1:01 don't worry about it, see you then.

no sooner had the text been sent that you found yourself falling back on the mattress. as your back bounced, you stared down the ceiling in an unfair staring contest. hands dragging over your face, and an ungodly groan left you.

increased viewership be damned! you were just doing this for your extra 100k.

8:03 p.m.

"hey!" sanji greeted you with a grin as you found him at the hotel's entrance. he was dressed in a white tshirt, a casual blue overshirt and jeans. you smiled back, nodding in acknowledgement, "hey."

"you're so gorgeous that sometimes i truly think i might be dying each second over and i come alive only long enough to look at you once last time." sanji smiled, offering you a hand as you crossed the road.

you eyed his hands; neat, pristine hands. hands made just for preserving the art of cooking, it seemed. as your weary palms met his warmer ones, your voice grew weak, "do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"huh?" his brows furrowed, pretty lips falling into a pout, "no, of course not. every pretty lady gets her own individual line. i'm not like those cheap loverboys that uses the same card a million times."

you found yourself glaring at him, and he squeezed your hard gently in return, "how considerate of you."

but your gaze melted into nothingness when he smiled again, his blonde locks swaying under the strong autumnal winds. how pretty.

get a grip. you pulled your arm over your waist, looking for an inch of warmth against your own accursed touches as you walked next to the man you were to love. you hummed, "oh, by the way nami said that she'd send some paps to get our photos."

"did she?" the blonde asked earnestly, hands softly squeezing yours as he led you through an alleyway to reach the pub, "why?"

you found yourself shrugging, more focused at the way the his back muscles pulled and pushed under the shirt. his hand was gently holding yours, guiding you as he walked in front of you. you mumbled, "who knows? must be some business thingy."

"she's smart though, isn't she?" sanji's voice swooned, hands clasping as he fondly remembered the red-head and her assets. and you felt a bitter pang in your chest, the kind that permeated your bones and made your skin crawl inwards.

huh? what was that? jealousy?

you shook your head. no. it's just cold. holding yourself harder, "yeah, she is."

you're not sure at which point paps were to take your photos, so, as a precaution you pressed yourself to sanji's side. leaning against his firm biceps, you caught your intertwined hand with the other one.

"wh-what is it?" the blonde asked softly, and something about the waiver in his voice made you feel he might have a nosebleed at the fake physical touch.

"they might take pics whenever." you admitted more into the material of his sleeve than to the man that towered above you. "i'm just trying to stay prepared."

"uh huh, yeah." he nodded, head almost falling off at the rate he was nodding, "uh... you can hold onto me."

you looked up at him, only see him unraveling at your skimming touches. fighting a grin, "don't mumble, sanji. someday you might confess and i might miss out on it."

"if i confess, i'd do it with all my heart and soul. and at a good place." prideful words, "not in a shabby alleyway right this."

"hm? really?" your nose scrunched up, cheek resting against his well-defined bicep, "is that line new or did you recycle, loverboy?"

a gasp left him and you almost rolled your eyes at his dramatic nature. sanji huffed, "i would never dishonor someone as radiant as you with a recycled line."

"how very considerate of you."

11:55 p.m.

"sanjiii," your sweet words slurred just a teensy tiny bit, weak hands stopping him from downing another shot, "don' drink so much."

"but we have no shooting for the next two weeks! huzzah!" he defended himself, raising his hand to order four more shots.

"no, no. sanji, you dumb-dumbass!" you stressed, but made no effort whatsoever to send back the waitress carrying the four shots on a tray.

you two were huddled in one of the far-off, darkened booth of mclaren's pub. edm played in the background, and from your unstable vision you could see sea of bodies push and pull against each other. the neon lights painted them all in blasphemous shades of sin; grinding, kissing, leaning on each other.

you dragged your blurry vision back to sanji.

the blonde in front of you had slumped backwards. pretty lips agape and a delirious smile on his lips. you tilted your head slightly, leaning forward and forward till your foreheads could touch.

"ahaha, what're you doin'?" the chef laughed, bringing up a finger to flick at your forehead. and you fell back, as if taking 5x damage from his light touch.

putting both your hand on your forehead, you felt up the light thump, thump, thump of an impending headache. you huffed, "nothin'. was doin' nothin' at all, loverboy."

"is-ish that nickname gonna stick?" he huffed in return, pulling another shot-glass to his lips and downing the liquid in one swift go. you looked on, hyperfixated, at the way his adam's apple bobbed and a little bit of liquid spilled past his lips, down his chin and onto the table.

"i dunno, loverboy." you replied honestly, leaning forward to grab another shot for yourself. the glass felt delicate in your grasp, as if one wrong breath and it'll shatter up. downing the liquid, you hissed as the warm fluid left an ungodly sting down your throat and chest.

he remain unmoving, gaze fixed against the low-cut of your top.

"sanji," you repeated, tugging his sleeve to bring him out of his daze, "are you listening?"

"huh?" he blinked, bleary gaze being broken from your tits to come rest against your pretty face. he didn't listen what you were saying, more like he couldn't.

look, vinsmoke sanji knew he was perverted. but how could he not stare you down when your pretty tits were right there! and the way you licked your lips to collect the last remaining drops of the alcohol on your painted lips, it made him imagine the way he would kiss you. what would you taste like? like the same alcohol on his tongue? or something much more recklessly divine?

"d'you think people believe th-that we're like... a couple?" he asked absentmindedly, nimble fingers offering you another shot, "li-like is it believable?"

"yeah," you nodded. you guys weren't allowed phones, or any other piece of technology. you all had been giving phones with just each other's contacts, contacts of the managing team and emergency numbers. technically, all you knew about the world was through nami right now.

"really?" he asked, dumbfounded and you nodded harder, "isch... isch 'cause you're good at pretending to be in love or- or whatever." you found yourself laughing, "sometimes i feel like you can even fool me."

"hm?" sanji stared you down, "fool ya?"

you shook your head, holding up a palm to explain yourself further, "sometimes you look at me like ya love meee." you giggled, "but i know isch not true, you're just good a-at acting."

"no- no, i'm not." now he shook his head, strong, warm hands interlocking against yours, "i think you're sho pretty."

you attempted to crush his hand, not buying his bullshit, "ya think every girl with tits an' ass is pretty, vinsmoke."

"using the family name?!" he mumbled, distraught, "d'ya hate me?"

"nooo!!" you softened your touch against his palms, "i like ya... i think?"

"huh?" he grinned, maddened, "f'real?!"

"uh-huh, uh-huh."

"YOU TWO!" a shrill voice cut between you two. the red-head grabbed both of your ears with a pinch of her manicured fingers, "IT'S ABOUT TO BE TWELVE. GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO YOUR ROOMS."

"ouch ouch ouch—" you both hissed as she dragged you out of your booth. finally letting go, she grumbled on, "honestly, what the fuck am i? your bodyguard?! get a grip, and head back!"

she called out to some zolo? zoro? wowonoa wowo? you're not sure, but a strong moss-headed man held you two by the shoulders and softly led you out into the cold, bitter night.

"who are you?!" sanji hissed, shimmying off the man's touches, "mosshead!"

"don' be mean." you hit sanji's upper arm, turning around to smile at the uptight man, "sorry 'bout him... he's dumb."

your voice turned down into a whisper, so that sanji couldn't hear you, "an' he only cares about woman. he's a pervert!"

the man looked amused, half-snickering, as he followed nami and led you two back into the hotel lobby.

once inside the warm, familiar lobby, nami flicked you two with her indexes, "dumbasses. both of you! when you said a drink, i didn't think you'd get wasted."

"nami-swan~" sanji cooed, hands rubbing together as he smiled at the manager, "you're so cute even when you're mad."

and hey, you were drunk! so, surely it's not your fault when you 'accidentally' stepped on sanji's foot. and then again, and then one more time.

"aishhh~" he hissed, bringing his left calf up, "what?!"

"go to bed. both of you." nami sighed, rubbing circles into her temple, "zoro can you take them to their rooms?"

"huh?!" the man sounded surprised, "do i work under you?"

the manager hissed back, "yes, you do. technically. now, zoro."

the man named zoro grumbled but grabbed sanji by the collar and you by the elbow anyways. as he led you two down the hallway that opened into the elevator, he whisper-yelled back at the red-head, "say you'd forgive my loans now!"

"never." the red-head whisper-yelled back, "take them away. i need to go handle pr now. these fuckers will make me age at 2x speed."

"bye nami!" you waved as zoro shoved you and sanji into the elevator. grumbling, he asked you your hotel rooms and before you knew it, your face was pressed against the neat, white pillowcase and your eyelids were heavy.

1:39 a.m.

knock knock knock.

you opened the door to a very far-gone looking sanji. he grinned as he pushed past you and stumbled into your room, "ni-nish room."

"ugh," you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes, and tried to pray away the steady headache building in your temples, "whaddya wan'? 'was sleeping."

the blonde turned around, a steady hand on your cheek and the taste of alcohol on your lips.

"wha-" another hand came up to cradle another cheek, lips pressing against you as he drank down any semblance of sanity you retained.

pushing you back till you were against the door, his tongue pushed past your pretty lips. warm. he felt warm, from the tip of his fingers splayed against your cheeks to how his knee was pressed against your core, the way he kissed you.

he kissed you. vinsmoke sanji just kissed you!

bug-eyed, sobered, you watched as he pulled away. licking his wet lips, a stupid smile on his face. but before you could ask him questions, or worse, take his shirt off, the blonde turned around. saying nothing, he just flopped down on your bed and pressed his face on your pillowcase.

huh?!

"what are you doing?" what was that tone of yours? apprehensive? scared? excited?

but he just beckoned you over with a sloppy shake of his right palm.

"what?" you mumbled as you trudged and stood next to him on the mattress. your voice hardened, "i'm not fucking ya like this, 'm tired— w-wait what?"

a strong hand tugging your wrist so that you fell atop him. strong arms enveloping your waist, and hot, steady breath on your forehead as sanji snuggled next to you. you could smell the expensive alcohol on his lips, the liquor-induced haze in his eyes, as he pulled you flush against himself.

"couldn'- could-" he hiccupped, "couldn't sleep alone. let stay li-like thish."

and how could you deny him when you wanted nothing more than to stay like this?

you found yourself burying your face against his white t-shirt, smelling in the french cologne he always wore. on a high of your own, you mumbled against his clothes, "you smell... nice."

but the man was out of it. before you could even get the sentence out, you heard soft snoring from above you. easy rise and fall of his firm chest against your face, strong arms caging you in. and all you could think as you fell asleep was: what a fucking nuisance. well no, all you could think of how warm he felt, how right he felt against you.

vinsmoke sanji will be the death of you.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 9:41 a.m.

"jesus christ," nami found herself muttering as she saw you and sanji tangled together - just a mess of sheets, and limbs, and stupid decisions, "what's the one thing i ask people? to not fall in love. what's the one thing they do? they fall in love."

"they could've fucked with no feelings though?"

"you shut up." she glared at the man next to her, "i told you to drop them at their own rooms."

"i did." zoro hissed, crossing his arms as a defense, "that blondey love-cook has legs. he obviously just walked over. what am i supposed to do? guard him all night?"

"but what are we even looking at?" a raven-head boy chirped up next.

"luffy," nami groaned, "you wouldn't understand."

as the red-head turned on her heels, pacing the room while assessing the damage, zoro decided it was his turn to be educational.

"uh," the mosshead tried to come up with an explanation, "when real feelings get involved, it gets harder to predict what people will do next."

"so?" the bug-eyed boy asked, still confused at why his friends were this upset that two strangers probably fucked.

"so, it means i cannot just give them memos and ask them to pretend anymore!" nami groaned again, still pacing, "they'd get their feelings involved, ruin the trajectory of the story and then, all my work goes down the drain! crocodile won't give me a raise! this is the worst."

"worry not." luffy put a hand on nami's delicate shoulders, giving her a wide smile, "i can jus' ask dad to give you a raise, nami."

nami patted luffy's hand, giving him a sympathetic smile, "thanks, luffy. but croc will kill me if i asked you for help."

zoro asked earnestly, "if you die, will my loans be forgiven—"

"—no. obviously not. i'll send vivi after you."

"dammit."

the commotion was enough to wake you up. you sat up, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. your blurry vision raked over the room, from the blonde chef passed out next to you to the three people in front of your bed. wait, three people?!

wide-eyed with a terrible headache, you asked, "what are you guys going here?!"

nami cocked her head to look at you, "cleaning your mess."

"wh-what?" but before you could even organize your thoughts, nami leaned forward to meet your eyes in a heated gaze, "tell me one thing. you remember how much i offered you?"

"yes? 100k?" you swallowed, and she peered down at you like a hawk, "good, so, your memory doesn't fail you. now, do you remember what you promised me?"

"yes?" you tried to avoid her gaze, voice shaking, "d-don't fall in love?"

"good. so, don't fall in love."

shit.

a/n: yes, a part 02 will be up sometime soon. i'm too dumb and always think one part is enough but it never is ugh. thankyou if you've read so far. ilysm!! may you get some cold, hard cash as a reward hotties mwuah <3 tagging: @mist-ixx @otkuhotgirl m.list

[hollisxwrites]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you could do a Percy x Reader, where it’s a friends to lovers kind of thing, they have kind of a childish relationship, and they confess their feelings towards each other when Percy gets a bit jealous of the reader and Grover being close? If not that’s 100% okay! And either way I hope you have a good day or night xx🤍

our goat man friend did the underwater jig

percy jackson x fem reader

word count: 1.6k maybe?

authors note: GUYS. i love you all. thank you for supporting me and my work, I have 3k notes now, and 70 followers. i owe this all to you, and i am so proud of the work that i have done so far. i think this is the most unserious fic i have written; i wrote this at one am, but i think it's cute and fluffy and silly. i hope you guys enjoy my dancing goat man that i love so much! also, so sorry if this is not exactly what you were looking for, anon, i just kind of took a silly idea and ran with it lol.

warnings: jealous percy!, curse words, a fish, this is so silly.

Percy Jackson was my best friend in the entire world, but he was also someone that I love more than my life itself. Ever since we met one faithful day in June, my first day of so-called summer camp, we became inseparable. The son of Poseidon was beautiful, to say the least, and he was endearing. Everyone in Camp loved him, which made everyone in Camp love me, as we were pretty much joined at the hip. Starting when we were thirteen, we would spend the night in his cabin together since we were both plagued by vivid nightmares that left us both restless. It started off as just sharing his cabin, but then it came to sharing a bed, and eventually, us holding each other for maximum nightmare prevention. We also trained together, more and more often the older we got, and we even broke the rules and ate every meal with each other. The young campers, once we turned seventeen and were seen as the ‘cool, older campers’ thought we were dating, and one of them went as far to say that we were married. I could see where someone young would assume that, but none of the older campers said anything…to our faces. I heard the rumors, but I chose to ignore them, Percy and I were just friends. We teased each other, of course, and made sex jokes to each other all of the time, but we were just friends, sadly.

I was in love with the Percy Jackson. He was everything I could ever want, but I blocked out my feeling in order to salvage our friendship that I held so dear. That didn’t stop me, however, from thinking about kissing him every time we laid in his bed together, every time his hand brushed against mine, and every time we spared, and he pinned me to the ground. We spent every single day together, and so, of course, his friends became my friends, and that includes his best friend, Grover.

Though Percy was always going to be my best friend, my home, I was quite the sociable person, and so I enjoyed spending time with everyone. Grover was hilarious, in a quiet way, and he kept me on my toes and my wit in tip top shape. I slowly began to start spending almost as much time with Grover as I did Percy, and nine times out of ten, Percy would tag along, making us a happy little trio that most definitely got along. This specific day, we were spending time at Percy’s favorite place on the Campgrounds, the lake.

I was chasing after Grover and Percy who had taken off spiriting through the woods after they heard some rustling in the trees that they thought was a monster, or even worse, Clarisse, but it just ended up being a cute little bunny. “Guys!” I panted out. “Wait up, please!”

Percy looked behind himself and at me. He gave me one of his award-winning smirks and said, “just run faster, bitch!”

Grover snorted rather unattractively at that, but the joke didn’t stop him from slowing his pace to let me catch up to him. “Don’t want you to get lost.” Grover winked, making me laugh at his comedic gesture.

“Stop flirting and hurry up, don’t want anyone to have the same idea as us!” Percy, from about thirty feet away, yelled, a sour tone in his voice.

“Ew, we are not flirting, Perc!” I yelled back, in an equally disgusted tone.

Grover rolled his eyes at both of us and lowered his voice just to address me. “When are you going to tell him, girl?” He massaged his temples. “He is goo-goo eyed for you.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Never. I love him, but he doesn’t love me like that.”

Grover nearly groaned in annoyance. “{Reader}, I’m saying this because I am your friend, but you are acting like a dumbass. I have told you he loves you, and you love him, and why don’t you just act on it?”

Grover had been my wingman this entire time, encouraging me to grow some balls and ask the man of my dreams out. It all started this one time where, on a dare, someone asked Percy to kiss me, and he obliged without any protest. Putting two and two together, Grover decided that I liked Percy, and he liked me, and so we needed to date. That was three years ago. Nothing anywhere close to that, except this one time he kissed me on the cheek because…that’s beside the point.

“I will, Grover. I just don’t want to…”

My thought was cut off by us approaching the clearing where the man of the hour, the beautiful, Perseus Jackson stood, his arms crossed, and cheeks flushed from overexertion. “Took you guys soon enough! Let’s swim!”

Percy tossed his orange t-shirt aside and it took everything in my power not to stare. He was just too stunning. I followed suit, pulling off my athletic shorts and matching orange Camp shirt to reveal a deep blue swimsuit that I think showed off figure that I had acquired from training.

I dove in the water after Percy, and he scooped me into his freckled arms. “I like the swimsuit.” He said with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Thank you, Perc.” I said, my face flushed, but I pretended it was from the bright sun that was baking us.

Our moment was interrupted by Grover cannonballing right into the middle of our little bubble of unconfessed feelings, sending a tidal wave of water over Percy and I.

I wiped the water from my eyes when all of the sudden, Percy pushed me under the water. In the moment, I started to panic, a little bit, because I couldn’t breathe, but all of the sudden, I could. Percy was protecting me. My initial thought was, poor Grover, we’re abandoning him, but then my second thought was, holy shit, I’m underwater alone, in a bubble, with Percy fucking Jackson.

Percy smiled at me and hurried me along when we were finally able to touch the floor of the lake. I could see Grovers little goat feet treading water from above us, and it made both me and Percy giggle a little bit. Percy finally stopped pushing me along in his little bubble when we reached a beautiful cove of water lilies. I smiled at the boy in front of me, and he smiled back, a little awkwardly.

“Soooo…{Reader}.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. I giggled awkwardly. “Percy.”

“I see you and Grover have gotten…closer.” His eyes were unreadable, and I had no idea where this was going.

“He’s a twenty-something year old goat man who I see as more of a father figure than anything else, Percy. I am a seventeen-year-old demigod who has no father figure in her life. We may have gotten closer, but it’s nothing like that.” I said, a matter-of-fact tone in my voice.

Percy looked embarrassed at this, probably thinking about how he didn’t really think his accusation through. “That’s very true.” His eyes avoided meeting mine, and he seemed suddenly very interested in a fish swimming by me.

“Why do you care?” I asked, genuinely wondering. Percy shrugged at this, not confessing his real reason for dragging to the bottom of a dam lake. “Look at me, Perc, why do you care?”

His eyes finally met mine. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t want someone else to look at you the way I want to.”

I was…flabbergasted…to say the least. I was not expecting that. “Of course, I am yours, but to what extent? We can’t keep dancing around each other, waiting for someone to finally break the tension surrounding us.”

At this, Percy pulled us closer together, our faces inches apart. “This tension?”

My breath faltered. “This exactly.”

Percy let us linger on the feeling of closeness without pressing our lips together. Our eyes met, and our noses nearly touched, but neither of us took the next step. I could feel him breathing, and I was sure he could feel me, and the electric energy of love sparking between that I was sure the fishes around us could feel it. “Kiss me, asshole.” I mumbled against his lips, and his next movement made my head spin.

The kiss was…magical. I was unable to think of anything, not even how to breathe. Percy’s lips were everywhere and nowhere all at once, and my hands found his hair almost by instinct. Before things could get a little too far, both of us looked up and almost had a heart attack. Grover was right above us doing a little jig in the water, holding his nose, trying not to inhale water.

“What the fuck, Grover!” Percy exclaimed, laughing hysterically, his hands still around my waist. Grover floated back up to the surface, probably going back up for air, and Percy and I smiled at each other, laughter seizing our bodies.

We paddled back up to the surface. “Grover, I will slaughter you.” I said, the huge smile on my face telling him that my threat was empty.

“I win a bet! I win a bet!” Grover sang, doing his little jig on the beach now. “I am so glad I do not have to listen to you guys pine over each other anymore!”

I gasped and looked at Percy who froze beside me. “You pined over me?”

“That’s a story for another day.” Percy said, stifling back a laugh.

The rest of the day was bliss, my new boyfriend and annoying, jigging goat friend by my side, making that day a day that I would always remember.

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: ASSAULT, ATTEMPTED SA, feelings of jealousy, reader avoiding her problems, smut (pain kink, fingering, dry humping, p in v, dirty talk, slight breeding kink), arguing, descriptions of blood, violence, misplaced rage, idiots in love. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 5.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

You always thought monsters were found solely in the spoken words of stories passed from person to person in low lights, in hushed whispers, in frantic glances.

They were the things that parents warned their children about, their gnashing teeth and glowing eyes hunting them in the dark, reminding them to stay close, to stay mindful, to stay safe.

You didn’t believe in monsters. You hadn’t since you were little, but now you wondered if monsters weren’t the creatures that roamed the nights, preying on children and unsuspecting folks as they traversed the shadows. Perhaps they were the unsuspecting victims of circumstance, the victims of choices made and consequences dealt with no care for the intentions behind them.

Did any one person ever intend to become a monster? To become the thing that parents warned their children about? Were they born or were they made? Was a monster capable of being a good person? Or did the title bar one from redemption? Were they even capable of love?

Captain Jake Seresin was a good man, of this you were sure and certain. You saw the way he treated the men of his crew with respect and fairness no matter how far down the totem pole they were. You saw how he smiled at the children in the different port town, green eyes twinkling as he waved at the babies and ruffled the hair of the small children that greeted him. You saw the way he closed his eyes in the setting sun, the sea breeze ruffling his golden locks, the smile that lay in a shadow on his lips as he savored the moment.

You watched him in those moments, wondering how anyone could think him a monster. You were no stranger to his harder moments or his rougher actions, but you supposed you had your fair share of the same. Despite seeing the uglier side of him, if you could even call it that, you still found yourself drawn to the rugged captain all the same. Your eyes would wander toward him before you even had the chance to realize what you were doing, green eyes meeting yours and snapping you out of your reverie as heat would rise to your cheeks. It was a wonder the roof of your cabin had no holes in it from the way you lay awake at night, staring daggers into the worn wood as your mind raced with thoughts of the captain, of what would happen should you either fail or succeed in having the curse lifted.

It had been two weeks since the events on the isle, and the captain had yet to lay a finger on you, as promised. On more than one occasion you had waited with bated breath as he would reach for you, only to huff quietly in disappointment as he would stop and let his fingers drop back to his sides. You found you missed his touch, the constant reassurance it brought to you that you were safe under the watchful eyes of your captain.

Truly, you found that you missed having him around you so constantly. You missed the late night filled with quiet laughter and the shared tales of growing up in your different parts of the world. The way his fingers would play with the ends of your hair or smooth over your cheeks as he studied you while you told your stories. Or the way his emerald eyes would light up with joy as he recounted a story of he and Javy back in the days before he took command of the Hangman. You missed him.

Of course, the captain was sure to keep up with your sword lessons, and you were proud to say that his hits were growing fewer and farther in between. You had yet to best him, but you caught the flashes of pride that danced in his eyes every time you came close.

You once again found yourself perched in a chair inside a busy tavern, the other ladies bustling around the room with drinks and ample cleavage on display for wandering eyes of men. You saw several members of your own crew casting longing glances at the ladies, and you suspected several of the newer members would try their hands at sating the undeterrable desire that coursed their veins.

You let out a long, labored sigh as you rested your chin on your fist, eyes scanning the room with disinterest as the men spoke around you. Natasha sat across the room, a gaggle of men surrounding her as she regaled them with titillating tales of her adventures and coy flirtations disguised as teasing japes. You wondered if you could ever find yourself feeling so carefree, envying her ability to forget the current circumstances as the deadline to end the curse drew nearer with each passing day.

The tension from your group of friends was palpable as they watched the blond captain oversee the signing of the poor, new souls sign away their lives to one of servitude. Javy stood at his side, arms crossed with a stoic expression on his face, but the way he would glance over towards Natasha just a few tables over was not lost to your watchful eye.

A pretty red head sauntered over towards where your captain sat, a lascivious smile curled on her painted lips as her eyes wandered over Jake’s form draped across the wooden chair. A manicured hand came up to rest on his shoulder, dipping down towards the open V of his cotton shirt as she leaned down to whisper something in his ear. His hand reached up to hers, taking it, and you felt the ugly twist of heat curl in your chest as your cheeks warmed. You stood abruptly, chair scraping against the stone floor as the others cast wary glances your way.

“I need some air,” you muttered, already moving towards the exit, shoving past the several large bodies, drunkenly swaying as they blocked your escape route. If the others called after you, you didn’t hear them over the noise of the tavern and the blood rushing in your ears. He would touch her, but not you? His touch you had to beg for, seeking it out yourself because he refused to touch you for some stupid sense of honor and valiance, and yet he gave it freely to the first woman who came in his sights.

The night air was cool on your skin as you finally managed to break through the crowd. You paused only for a brief moment before you pushed forward, determined to put some distance between yourself and the stifling air of merriment.

You had made it only a few yards before you heard your name ring out in the quiet streets, the familiar timbre causing your heart to clench in mixture of anguish and anger as your thoughts swirled inside your head. He had deprived you of his comfort for weeks, had kept you at bay and away from him for so long, and now he suddenly wanted you?

You ignored him as you sped up your pace, hearing the sound of his footsteps pick up as well. You rounded a corner, pushing yourself back against the entryway of one of the buildings and out of the dim light cast by the streetlamps. You waited with bated breath as the footsteps rounded the corner, a flash of blond jogging past your hiding place before coming to a slow stop once he realized you were nowhere in sight.

“Guppy?” He called, uncertainty laced in his voice. You stayed silent, still, as he glanced around the buildings lining the street. You shifted in the shadows, pressing yourself as far back as you could as you watched him. He let out a deep sigh, hunching over as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Guppy, please,” he said again, twisting as he inspected the shadows. “Can we talk?”

You didn’t want to talk, not with him. At least, not in that moment. No, you wanted him to feel as helpless as you had for two weeks, reaching out only to be ignored. You wouldn’t forgive him so easily.

You needed a moment to breathe, to think. You had been afforded so little time to yourself, constantly bombarded with tasks on the ship in between your sword lessons and chatter with your friends. You hadn’t allowed yourself a moment to process the events of the isle and the information you gathered after, and you found your frustrations and feelings from the past two weeks boiling to the surface.

Jake let out a curse under his breath as he paused in his turning. You watched as his teeth worried on his bottom lip, indecision clear on his face before stalking off in the opposite direction. You waited a few moments, making sure he was gone before slipping out from the shadows, scanning the street for signs of anyone. Seeing signs of no one, you looked back one last time in the direction the captain had disappeared in before turning towards the harbor.

You managed to make it back to the ship before the tears started leaking past your carefully constructed wall of feigned indifference. It was quiet, the entire crew having decided to try and find some sense of normalcy at the tavern, and you were thankful for that serendipitous turn of events as you padded across the deck towards the stairs to the galley.

The ship swayed in the tide, causing you to be somewhat unsteady on your feet as you stumbled towards the kitchen. The ale felt sour in your belly, and you were sure some food would help settle it before you retired for the evening to wallow in your feelings.

A part of you knew you were being unreasonable in how you were handling the situation, and as you scrounged up some bread, you huffed at your own unwillingness to address the issue.

You would never move past this rough spot unless you sat down to have a conversation with the captain. Two weeks had allowed the wounds to fester, and avoiding the situation would only make it worse.

You had just found the last of the cheese, making a mental note to pick some up at the market tomorrow before departure when the creak of one of the floorboards caused you to pause. Letting out a sigh, you turned around towards the entrance to the kitchen. It was the captain you had expected to see, so it surprised you to see one of the crew members bracing himself against the frame of the doorway, dark eyes fixed on where you stood. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought him drunk or ill with the way his skin shone with sweat, the paleness of him showing in stark contrast to the shadows of the room. The bags under his eyes caused him to have a skeletal appearance, and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention as the two of you stared at one another.

“Evening,” you offered, wincing at how small your voice sounded. “Can I help you?”

The man said nothing, thin lips turning downwards as he cocked his head to the side. He took a slow, heavy step forward, and your eyes immediately darted towards the knife that lay on the edge of the counter. It wouldn’t kill him or cause much harm by any means, but it might slow him down enough for you to escape should you need to.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him, inching slowly towards the knife so as not to cause suspicion. “I can make you something if you like.”

“You know we’re always hungry,” he sneered, looking at you with disdain. “Haven’t had a sated belly in months. Haven’t had a drink that’s not left me more parched than before either. And women…”

He paused, eyes raking over your still form, and your heart pounded in your chest. The night was still fairly early, and you would be surprised if anyone made their way back to the ship anytime soon.

“We all know that you’re the only source of relief on this ship,” he continued, eyes growing impossibly darker as he took another step towards you. “You’re always surrounded by that lot, though. None of us can get close to you. Tha’s why when I saw you leave, I knew I had to take my chance.”

You felt your fingers twitch as you glanced back over at the knife, taking a small step sideways as he took another haggard step forward.

“Chance at what?” You asked him, voice barely above a whisper, and you cursed yourself for how shaky it sounded. The man stopped, standing slightly straighter as his cold, black eyes fixated on you.

“Relief,” he uttered, the word barely passing his lips before he lunged for you. You were faster, barely, as you scrambled for the knife. You gripped the handle in your hand, whirling around just as the man’s body crashed into yours. You let out a grunt as you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but managing to catch yourself on the counter. Fury coursed through your veins as the man’s hot breath washed over your face, his eyes blazing but almost unseeing as he reached for you. You brought your hand up, slashing at his face with the knife.

He let out a howl of pain as he clutched his now bleeding eye, falling to his knees as the thick, red liquid oozed out between his fingers, and you took the moment to scramble away from him, hissing as your hip collided with the edge of the counter. Your eyes fixed on the dinner bell hanging just by the stairs of the galley. You glanced back for half a second to see the man staggering to his feet, hand still gripping his skull as he fixed a murderous glare on you. You sucked in a breath as you bolted from the kitchen, the bell growing closer and closer as you willed your feet to move faster.

Your fingers wrapped around the rope attached to the bell and you pulled frantically, the loud clanging of the metal echoing through the room and up the stairs onto the deck. You hoped that it was loud enough for someone to hear and investigate.

Your thoughts were cut short as a hand yanked you backwards by your hair, a hiss of pain leaving your lips as your hands clawed at the ones just out of reach behind you.

“You miserable, little cunt,” the man growled, slamming you into the wood of the entrance, “I coulda been nice to ya, but now? Now I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

Your cheek ached from the force of the impact, the rough wood scratching your skin and adding to the sensation as you struggled to break free of his hold.

“Stop your squirmin’,” he muttered, hand wrapped around both of your wrists as he gripped your shoulder with the other to pull you back away from the wall. You took that moment to bring your foot back as hard as possible, heel meeting something solid in the process. The man let out a grunt of pain before his hand moved from your shoulder to grip your chin, pulling it back at an awkward angle to look at you.

“Now listen here-”

You didn’t let him finish, instead opening your mouth and biting down as hard as you could onto his fingers. He let out a pained yell as your mouth flooded with the taste of iron. He snatched his hand back, his other letting go of your wrists. You took the opportunity to flee, feet thudding up the steps to the deck. You turned your head to glance back over your shoulder, but before you could get a gauge on how far away the man was, you ran into a solid wall of muscle.

You let out a grunt as you stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs before an hand reached out to grab your hip and steady you. You reeled back, eyes locking onto brilliant green, and your body sagged in relief.

“Guppy?” Jake frowned, eyes scanning you head to toe. You were sure you looked a sight in that moment. The throbbing in your cheek was pounding, the skin there sticky with what you were sure was blood. Your wrists and shoulders ached from where the man had twisted them back.

At that moment, thundering footsteps sounded behind you, and your heart jumped in panic as you twisted around in Jake’s hold. The man’s murderous gaze landed on you, his lips curled in a sneer before dropping at the sight of the captain behind you. His skin paled as Jake’s hold on you tightened, and you felt the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“What happened?” Jake barked, and the man in front of you flinched at the tone. Neither of you said a word as you stared at one another, daring the other to speak first.

Footsteps sounded on the gangway, and you turned to see a small group making their way onto the deck, headed by Javy. The quarter master stopped short as he saw the scene in front of him, his usual stoicism slipping into a look of shock before they schooled once more. He pushed his shoulders back and made quick strides to stand next to the two of you.

“Captain,” he said, arching a brow at the man behind you. “What seems to be the problem here?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Jake growled, the tension rolling off of him in waves. A beat of silence passed before Javy let out a drawn-out sigh.

“Thomas,” he snapped, drawing the man’s attention. “Get your ass down in the galley. I’ll be dealing with you in a moment.”

The quarter master’s tone left no room for argument and the man, Thomas, cast one last glance in your direction before retreating back down the steps.

“Reuben. Mickey,” Javy barked out. Both men hurried to follow Thomas down the steps without another word, giving you curious looks as they walked by. The quarter master turned to look at the captain, lips pressed tightly together as he glanced down at you.

“You might want to get her cleaned up,” he said quietly. Jake said nothing. He guided you towards the cabin, his touch surprisingly gentle as your feet stumbled beneath you. You felt the first wave of exhaustion hit you then, sagging further into Jake’s side as he led you past the door and down the hall to his cabin.

The room was just as you remembered, not having seen it in the weeks since the captain started pushing you away. The man in question led you further into the room before guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. Your mind was foggy, but you were vaguely aware of Jake moving. The sound of water being poured from a pitcher and into a bowl filled the room, and the blond kneeled before you with a cloth in hand. He took one of your hands in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb gently.

“Guppy?” He murmured, eyes searching your face. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” you croaked quietly. Jake gave you a comforting smile that seemed strained more than anything else. He looked away to mess with the bowl to his side, wringing the cloth of the water it had soaked up before turning back to you.

“You had me worried there for a second,” he said finally, dabbing at the scratches on your cheek. “I couldn’t find you after you left the tavern, and then I heard the bell on the ship, which I thought was odd for this time of night. I go to investigate and you run right into me with one of my crew hot on your tail.”

You said nothing, eyelids drooping as you fought the urge to sleep that was quickly taking over. Jake worked methodically, dabbing gently at your cheek and wiping away the blood that stained your skin.

“You should get some rest,” he told you, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and moving to stand. You watched him, taking note of the way his brow furrowed and his lips pulled down into a frown. He set the bowl on one of the tables littering the wall before turning back to you.

“You must be exhausted after today,” he continued, making his way back over to you. He brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear before cupping your cheek gently. He bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away slightly, but still lingering.

“I mean it,” he chided, hands pushing you and guiding you to lay back, “you need to get some rest. We’ll talk later, alright?”

You nodded, eyes already falling closed as he retreated.

You awoke with a start, sweat clinging to your forehead as you bolted upright. The lingering feeling of being chased hung in the air as your chest rose and fell with every pant of air. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun looked to be well in the sky from where you sat on the bed. It was at that moment that the door to the cabin swung open.

Jake stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his flushed face, as if he had been running.

“What is it?” He asked, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

You stared at him dumbly. “What?”

“I heard screaming,” he replied, brow furrowing as he inched into the room, the door closing behind him. “I thought something was wrong.”

You continued to stare at him as he padded closer, studying you.

“How’re you doing?” He asked finally, softly. The events of the night before rushed back to you. The feeling of helplessness, the pain, the fear. You thought about what Thomas had said to you, about wanting to feel relief, and a wave of anger crashed into you so suddenly that you were on your feet before you knew it. You stomped over to Jake, shoving at his chest. The captain was taken aback, stumbling backwards in his surprise.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up to defend against the blows of your fists against his chest. You ignored his outcry, swinging your hands blindly in front of you.

“Guppy, stop,” Jake said, scrambling to grab your wrists and stop you. You bared your teeth, rage pulsing through you much like it had last night.

“Dammit, stop!” He snapped, finally getting ahold of your wrists, stopping your tirade. The two of you stared at each other, panting from the exertion. Jakes eyes bored into yours, searching for what, you didn’t know. You yanked your hands free of his, pursing your lips in a tight frown as you studied him back. A warmth blossomed in your lower stomach, and your breaths grew labored for a different reason. Jake’s expression morphed into one of confusion, which didn’t last long as you leaned up to kiss him.

He let out a noise of quiet surprise before returning the kiss with enthusiasm. One hand moved to grip your waist, pulling you closer as the other snaked up to cup the back of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his neck, caution thrown to the wind as you moved your lips against his. Jake licked into your mouth, drawing out an embarrassingly loud noise from you. You felt the smirk against your lips, and a twinge of annoyance fluttered through the surface.

You pulled back, breathing heavy before pushing against Jake’s chest to dislodge yourself from his embrace. He gave you a puzzled look as you spun him around, pushing him down onto the edge of the bed. You hoisted your skirts up around you before settling down on his lap, once again attaching your lips to his. He let out a grunt that quickly dissolved into a moan as you began to rock against him, the hardness of him pressing into you through his trousers.

His hands settled on your hips, guiding you over him as his mouth devoured yours in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything else. Your hands roamed his figure, up the span of his torso, over his shoulders, and into his hair. Your fingers entwined with his golden locks, scratching at his scalp and eliciting a drawn out grown from the man beneath you.

You clutched at his hair, yanking his head back harshly. Jake let out a hiss as his eyes focused on you. Green was swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils, and a look of pure lust adorned his face as you held him still.

“It’s your fault,” you spat, hovering your lips just over his. His brow furrowed once more.

“What?”

“He wouldn’t have gone after me if you hadn’t been avoiding me for weeks,” you continued, grinding down on the bulge in Jake’s pants. He gave a wanton moan as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Nothing to say?” You breathed, a moan escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through you.

“It wouldn’t have-fuck!” He groaned, “it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run from me.”

You let out a growl before yanking his head to the side, running your nose along his neck. You sank your teeth into the meat of his shoulder, drawing out a pathetic whimper as his grip on you tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought for control.

You let out a startled yelp as you were flipped onto your back, Jake’s hands scrambling to untie the strings of your shirt, baring your chest to him. The cool air caused your nipples to start pebbling, your chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

Jake lowered his mouth down to capture one nipple between his lips, laving it with attention as a hand reached up to grope the other. Your back arched as you threw your head back in bliss, hands curling in the soft locks of your lover once more. Jake nipped and sucked at the skin of your breast before shifting his attention to the other, and you glanced down to find him already looking at you. A smirk ghosted on his lips as he trailed a hand down under your skirts.

His fingers brushed your lower lips, sending a shiver up your spine that left you wanting more.

“Look at you,” he cooed, running his hand up and down your slit, your wetness coating him as you moaned. “Already so wet for me. You get off acting like such a wild thing all the time?”

His thumb circled your clit, and you let out a high-pitched whine as you arched into his touch. The smirk was full-blown now as you clung to him.

“Don’t you worry, pretty girl,” he murmured, cradling the back of your neck to bring your forehead to rest against his. His nose nuzzled yours as your breaths came out in quick pants. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Slowly, he pressed a finger into your entrance, your walls gripping the digit tightly, and he let out a breath.

“Fuck, so tight,” he muttered more to himself than to you. You clung to him, fingertips digging into his shoulders as he slowly pumped in and out of you, adding a second finger before long.

“Such pretty noises you make for me,” he cooed once more, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before drawing back. You tried to chase after him, but he moved just out of reach with a chuckle. “You’re squeezin’ me so hard, darlin’. You gonna let go for me?”

You let out another whimper, the coil in your belly curling tight as you scrunched your eyes closed, and you fought to hold it off just a little longer. Jake tutted, moving the hand on your neck to grip your chin firmly. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his disapproving gaze.

“Don’t you go holding back on me,” he growled, speeding up the motion of his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. “Your pleasure is mine. Now give. It. To. Me.”

With a final thrust, the coil sprang, pleasure coursing through your veins as you let out a keening moan. Jake leaned forward, swallowing your pleasure with a debauched kiss that left your head reeling for air. He pulled away, and you gasped for air, sucking in lungfuls as you came down from your high.

Jake littered soft kisses along your neck leading down to your shoulders, and a new wave of need filled you. You ran a hand through his hair, the other reaching between the two of you to pull at the laces of his britches.

“Jake,” you breathed, looking at him through your lashes. “Need you.”

Jake pulled back with a huff of a laugh as he looked down at you, hands moving to help release him from his pants.

“Not even going to wait for us to undress?” He teased, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around his length.

“Need you now,” you insisted, stroking him. He let out a groan, shifting back on his haunches as you released him, spreading your legs with a whine. Jake hesitated, and you pouted up at him.

“What is it?” You asked, leaning up slightly to get a better look at him.

“It’s just,” he paused, pressing his lips together and turning his gaze away from you. “I need to know if this is real. If this is more than just anger, and adrenaline, and any feelings you’re having about the deadline coming up.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. You sat up, taking his hand in yours and squeezing gently.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” you whispered. Jake looked back at you, eyes searching once more, and you gave him a soft smile that you hoped eased his worries.

“Kiss me,” you said. Jake returned your smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him with you as you laid back. The kiss morphed into one that was more debauched, quiet moans falling past your lips as Jake trailed his own down your neck.

You reached down to grip him once more, spreading your legs and aligning him with your entrance. Jake wasted no time, leaning back to watch you as he pushed inside of you slowly. You let out a gasp, hands clutching at his arms as he filled you, the slight burn pushing the air from your lungs.

“Taking me so well, sugar,” he crooned, running his knuckles along your cheek. “So warm and wet for me, fuck. Could stay inside of you forever.”

His words had you clenching around him, and he let out a strangled moan.

“You keep doin’ that, and I’m not gonna last long, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“Need you to move,” you whimpered. “Need you to fuck me.”

Jake didn’t respond, instead leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss as he pulled his hips back, only to push them forward once more. He soon found a rhythm, and the sound of skin slapping and the cacophony of noises from the two of you soon filled the room.

“Feel so good,” he muttered in between kisses along your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders now, legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on. “Never felt something this good, shit. Never wanna leave. Never want anyone else, just you. Squeezin’ me so hard, yeah. Just like that. I’m not gonna last much longer, darlin’, you just feel too good.”

“Need it,” you choked out, the coil inside of you on the brink of bursting once more. “Need to feel you.”

“Fuck, sugar,” he groaned, hips moving faster and losing their rhythm. “Want me to fill you up? Is that what you want?”

You nodded, moans escaping your lips left and right as you teetered on the edge.

“Dirty girl,” he huffed with a laugh. “Feel you clenchin’ around me. Don’t you worry, I’ll give it to you. Keep you nice and full, and then you’ll swell with me. You like the sound of that? Like the idea of me marking you from the inside out?”

Your hips bucked up to meet his, desperately chasing your release, and Jake obliged by slipping a hand between the two of you to toy with your clit.

“Need to feel you come around me, pretty girl. Then I’ll give you what you want,” he cooed. “Come for me.”

His words were all it took to send you over the precipice. Your moan caught in your throat, and your back arched as you came hard around him. Jake’s pace picked up before his hips stuttered, a moan leaving his lips as warmth flooded inside of you. He gave a few more shallow thrusts before stilling. His breath fanned across your neck, your fingers running through his hair.

Jake shifted off of you, pulling out of you with a quiet hiss as he shuffled to lay next to you. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you close with a sigh. You nuzzled into him, resting your head against the pillows as you held the captain in your arms, his head resting on your chest. Neither of you said anything for a long moment, just basking in the afterglow of your coupling.

“I love you.”

It was so quiet, you weren’t even sure you had heard it at first. Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment before continuing their path. Something swelled inside your chest, and you willed the tears to stay locked inside. What you were feeling would only serve to cause you more harm if everything went poorly, and still…

“I love you too.”

A/N: You all have the fact that I started watching Black Sails this weekend to thank for this. But seriously, I know I took an unexpected hiatus after everything that went on last month, and for a while there, I wasn't even sure about the future of this blog. Thank you all for sticking by me as I navigated what I was doing, and I hope to have more for you guys here soon!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!