#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-

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 👻

a special story for those who intensely asked for a part two

warnings: kissing, cursing, just a very intense luke, m4sturbation (f and m), p in v. (also, luke’s ten times hotter with that skeleton make-up)

The usually cold October night felt fuzzy and heavily hot that night, filled with chatter and nonstop dancing from fairies all the way to those dressed as pineapples. The big party was packed and crowded, the drinks flowing, and the music blasting; y´all had to take advantage of Chiron´s and Mr. D´s permission. You sat on a long table, with your sisters and friends, just chilling and enjoying the good time.

It was good.

It was fun.

And Luke was nowhere to be seen.

You didn´t think much about it though, and neither did you expect him to follow you all night like a dog after what had happened in the cabin, whatever that was. Maybe he was just being a jerk, trying to mess with you and play around with you. After all, Luke was always a tease, a playful one. But he did give you a good scare, it was Halloween after all.

Soon your second drink started to hit you, slowly, but the feeling surely was there, embracing your friends into the same bubble as you. As the feeling rushed through your veins, you suddenly found the table a pretty boring place to be at, and soon enough, you and your sisters found yourselves on the improvised dancefloor.

Dancing was the perfect way to let loose, especially after a long, exhausting day of helping the campers. You deserved it, you thought. This fun, this night, a night-to-forget of all those monsters, Gods, missions, the camp life that kept you so exhausted every day. Everyone at camp needed that break, well deserved one. Just a night to behave for what you really were; people. Some of your sisters already disappeared into the darkness with some pirate, or wrestle fighter, or skeleton, leaving their drinks behind and a secret wink to your direction, or a "it won´t be long" comment for you to not worry too much, and honestly? Good for them, in fact, fucking great for them.

In fact, you were going to have your fun too.

You danced and moved around to the rhythm, the loud music blasting in your ears. Your head was slightly spinning, a pleasant feeling more than an unsettling one, and your body moved smoothly along with the music, letting it guide you, letting it move you, letting it control you and the sway of your waist, the holding of your hand to your friend´s, the laughing and singing. You even felt like you would be able to dance all night, nonstop, and you´d still want more fun.

Until you felt it. Again.

That cold, freezing feeling. The feeling of someone staring.

You knew exactly who it was.

He had found you, like he said he would. No-, he didn´t say that, did he?

"I´ll make sure you find me"

Well-, similar.

It was a little weird though, you just knew it was him, without even looking. You were not going to fall for his little mouse-trap game. You wouldn´t look for him, you wouldn´t find him. Did he want some fun? Bring it then.

But you imagined him.

Wearing his entire black outfit, the leather jacket hanging heavily on his shoulders, and his face decorated with that skeleton make-up you worked so hard on. A drink in hand, surrounded by other campers, but you knew, he was only staring at you.

You kept dancing, not a single glimpse, not a single look to his direction. You wouldn´t give him the satisfaction, no, you would be the one giving him a lesson. And maybe he didn´t deserve it. But oh, poor you, didn´t you know he´s been looking at you the whole night and you didn´t realize until now?

The sweat was sticking to your skin, and you´d be fine with that if the feeling of your own hair sticking to your chest didn´t gross you out. "I´m sweating like a pig" a friend told you, basically screaming into your eardrum, "Come get water with me?"

"Okay!" you reply, fixing your hair, moving it out of your sticky skin, following the fairy through the dark woods to try and go towards the drink table.

And that was just the perfect moment to attack.

"Hey" Luke said.

You turned around quicker than you´d like yourself to admit.

"Hi" you say, stopping in your tracks. "Found you, I guess"

He was looking good, too good. His jacket was opened, the teasing flesh of his neck showing just underneath that boring black shirt. His make-up was still in perfect shape, and his face didn´t look as scary as it did before, rather, he looked handsome, even with the painted features.

"Guess so" he smiles, and there´s a slight tilt to his head, as if he was sizing you up. "So-, how that night going for you?" he asked.

"Good so far" you replied, getting rid of the hood of your cape, letting yourself breathe a little bit more. "Sweaty" you stated, "You?"

"Sweaty" he repeated, a soft grin on his face. You rolled your eyes. "Nothing more?" he inquires.

You press your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest, "What do you mean?" you quickly ask.

"No one´s tried their luck with you yet?" he asked before taking a sip of his beer. He tilted his head to the side while doing so, the moonlight doing nothing but wonders to illuminate his jawline perfectly, the shadow of it intensifying over your Adam´s apple, which bobbed up and down slowly, the way his tongue licked his bottom lip quickly.

You scoffed. "No. Not really"

"Come on..." he jogged, "I don´t believe you"

Gosh, he was doing it again.

"Why?" you asked

He shrugged his shoulders casually, "You´re not something that´s easy to miss" he said, and you hated the way the compliment made you feel, and how silent it made you, unable to form words.  And it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, and what he was making you feel. He knew exactly what to say, and he knew it was driving you insane, and Luke was enjoying the hell out of it.

"Were you watching me?" is all you can ask.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe", is all he stated.

You laughed, tilting your head, "What, are you some creep now?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Don't get me wrong, I love watching you dance" he said, his tone so smooth and warm, "But I was hoping for something else" he shrugged his shoulders playfully, as if he was just talking about the weather with that casualness.

You raised and eyebrow, "So you were watching?" you asked, and you damn right knew he was.

Luke raised the bottle again, just about to press it to his lips as he said, "Like I said, you´re kind of impossible to miss"

He had a way with words, and they somehow always managed to make your brain malfunction, like you were suddenly a dumb girl from freshman year, the way they came out of his mouth with that husky, rough voice. Like they were sweet and velvety, and he had a way of saying them, a way of pronouncing them.

"Are you done playing around?" is all you manage to ask. You wanted to do something, say something, move somewhere. It was like your legs had become roots of trees, and you were just waiting for him, for him to do something. For him to say anything, really. And you didn´t want to think, or act, or speak. You just wanted him.

Luke hummed, and the smile that tugged at his lips was almost predatory. Like he was waiting for that. For you to ask him, and beg him, and for him to give in, to say yes. In silence, he walked towards a nearby tree taking the last sip of his beer, setting the bottle on the floor shortly after. He leaned back against it, the back of his head pressing against the hard wood.

"Come here" he asked, and it all became so quiet. The loud party was easy to step away from, even when the music and continuous chatter was buzzing inside your ears.

Arms still crossed, you walked to where he was, just a few feet away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, looking straight into his eyes. They were the same ones that pierced through you hours ago. The same ones that stared at you so deeply, and the same ones that made your knees weak. Luke lifted a hand, forcing its way through your crossed arms to hold one of your hands, and he gave it a quick, soft pull, a gesture that would be too obvious, and easy to ignore. But you didn´t. Because his palm was warm, and his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, but carefully.

"I just want you close"

You scoffed, unable to hold back a laugh. If you really thought about it, he sounded so, so dumb.

"That was the cheesiest shit I have ever heard"

He didn´t flinch, his face was still as serious as before. And he didn't take his eyes off of you, his fingers gently rubbing the soft skin of your wrist, a gesture that was almost hypnotic.

"I wasn´t done"

You tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue. He was attempting to pull you by the hand again, yet he never did. It felt as if you were about to jump off a cliff with the risk of someone pushing you. You took another step closer yourself, and then another, until you were standing just in front of him, your chests barely touching.

"Go on then" you encouraged, feeling your own cockiness take a hold on you, "What is it that you want, hm?". If it wasn´t for your previous fruity drinks, you weren´t sure you would be this bold.

"I said close" he demanded. But your chests were at the verge of pressing together.

"I am close"

That´s when he really pulled you. Luke forced his free hand around your waist, and he tugged, hard. The sudden force had you stumbling towards him, your chest colliding with his and his nose nearly pressed against yours, lips parted as you gasped, your free hand taking a hold on his shoulder so you wouldn´t fall all over him.

"This close" he whispered, his face dangerously close to yours. He was looking at your lips, and then at your eyes, and back to your lips. And you knew, oh, you knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to let him have it.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, and you could almost taste him. Luke let his lips brush against yours, and the soft touch was enough to drive you crazy. He was testing the waters, testing the limits, and you could tell by the way his lips moved against yours.

But it felt like a hundred tortures.

"Just kiss me already" you muttered against him. Luke didn´t need any more words to finally, fucking finally, press his lips against yours. And when he did, he kissed you hard, and with a hunger that left you breathless. He kissed you like his life depended on it.

He loved the feeling of when you let him press his tongue softly, exploring your mouth. And the way his teeth grazed over your bottom lip, and the way his hand was grabbing the fabric of your costume, and the way he held onto your neck, and the way his other hand grabbed your waist and pulled your hips against his, the feeling of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, the way he groaned softly into the kiss, the way his chest was pressed against yours and his breath was hot and heavy.

And he wanted more.

His kiss was hungry, and demanding, and all consuming, like he was trying to take every single ounce of air from your lungs. His hand moved up, his fingers tangling into your hair, holding onto the back of your neck, his nails grazing the skin, and pulling slightly, forcing you to arch your neck. He didn´t waste any time, and his tongue was instantly on yours again.

He pressed a couple of quick kisses over your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin, biting softly. His lips trailed down, pressing wet kisses all the way down to your neck, sucking on the soft skin. His fingers tightened, tugging slightly.

"Let´s go somewhere else, yeah?" he whispered, low and vibrant.

You didn´t have the chance to answer.

It was a quick turn, and the next thing you know is that Luke is walking ahead, his hand holding onto yours and a quick, firm pull, making you follow him. And soon enough, you find yourselves inside your cabin. And it was as if a switch had turned inside him. He pressed you against the door as soon as it was closed, his lips attacking yours. He kissed you hungrily, his hands gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you and pressing you further against the door.

He was all over you. It didn´t take him long to take a firmer grip of your legs as he walked towards the bed, dropping you down softly. His hands were quick to grab the edge of his jacket, removing it with ease, throwing it across the room, his black t-shirt following right after. You were mesmerized, watching the way his muscles flexed with each movement, the way his eyes remained focused on you still.

You got rid of your cape as he leaned down over you, "Stop" he warned you. He looked down, his hands roaming over your red skirt. His fingers took a hold of it softly, "I want this on" he stated. You could only nod as he leaned down, pressing another quick kiss against your lips. "But I want this off" he whispered, his hands moving up, reaching for the top of the corset. You were quick to remove it, Luke helping you quickly, letting the  material fall down onto the mattress, leaving you in the button up shirt you had underneath.

Luke popped a knee onto the bed, dangerously close to your core. "Fuck-" he muttered. He leaned down, a hand quickly unbuttoning your clothes. "How am I supposed to not fuck you like this?" he mumbled, and you felt the warmth of his hands, the soft touch, his calloused fingertips, his nails scraping the skin. "Looking this pretty, waiting for me"

You could feel the heat creeping up, and you knew he could see it. Your chest was rising and falling with every breath, your heart pounding in your chest. Luke was looking at you, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

His knee finally pressed against you, the contact enough to draw a small gasp from you, his thigh now firmly between yours, your skirt pushed up slightly. You felt his hands run over the smooth material of your skirt, and then under it, his fingers squeezing, pulling, kneading at your legs. His hand ran up the length of your inner thigh, "Move" he demanded then.

You obliged. You didn´t dare to question him, his knee remained pressed firmly against you. You felt the delicious pressure against your clit as your hips slowly grinned against his thigh.

Luke watched, his lips parting. "That's it" he praised you. Your eyes fell shut, your head falling back, a low groan whimper your lips. You felt his hand trail up your lower back, encouraging your movements against him, "Keep going baby, show me how good you feel" he breathed, and you couldn´t help but feel the rush of heat between your legs. He leaned in, his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses over the base of your throat. Your hips jerked against him, his hand gripping your skin tighter.

"I want to touch you" he muttered, "Let me touch you" his hand moved up, fingers caressing the flesh of your stomach, all the way up to your cleavage. He was bold enough to cup one of your covered breast for a second, squeezing it firmly, and then trailing his hand down, his palm pressed flat against your lower abdomen, "Come on-," he urged, "Let me touch you, let me get you off"

Luke was desperate, and you were a moaning mess, grinding against his thigh. You were desperate too, and the friction of his clothes against you wasn´t enough, and he was right there. "Do it. Do what you want" you sight out, grabbing his face to smash your lips together again. And that was enough.

Luke moved, his hands working their way down your skirt. His fingers worked quickly, his finger hooked on the waistband of the underwear, pulling them down slowly, the fabric scratching your thighs. His mouth was back on your neck, his teeth grazing the skin as he sucked and bit the soft skin, and then his tongue soothing the pain. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your skin. "You said you didn´t bite" you teased.

"Shut up" he grunted.

His fingers slid in between your thighs, teasingly, before moving further down, the pads of his fingers rubbing your folds. A sigh escaped you, and you heard his smile against your skin, his fingers slipping between the wet, slick skin.

Your body shook at the sudden sensation, his fingers spreading you apart. Luke slid his index finger inside you slowly. He pressed his lips against your throat, a deep chuckle leaving his lips, "I´m sure you don´t mind if I bite" he muttered, his fingers curling inside of you. "And you won´t mind if I fuck you too, right?" he asked. Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn´t form a proper answer. "I won't ask twice"

You couldn´t help the way you clenched around his fingers, and the sound that escaped you was something that was not going to be forgotten. "N-no" you whimpered.

"No?" he repeated, almost mockingly, a small yet lying pout on his lips. It bothered you as much as it made the rest of your body hot, but you had no time to be mad. Luke picked up his pace, his fingers sliding in and out in a faster motion that got you taking a hold of his wrist.

"Oh-," you whimpered, and you were already feeling so sensitive. He had a way of getting you so worked up, and the teasing was killing you.

"What is it? You don't like it?" he asked, but the smirk on his lips told you everything.

"Y-you know-," you breathed out, struggling to keep your words straight, "Fucking jerk"

"Mhm" he hummed, the pad of his thumb moving up to circle your clit, rubbing it gently, his fingers still moving inside you, "Is that so?" he asked. You could only nod, unable to keep your eyes open, the sensations overwhelming, his voice only making things worse, and the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out was too much.

The burning sensation on your tummy tightened just for a second before he went back to his slow and deliberate pace. You felt him move, and you realized he was positioning himself better, his face now at the level of your stomach. He kissed the skin just above the waistband of the skirt, fingers still working inside you. You took a quick look at him, the paint on his face, smudged around the round edges and his perfect lips not looking so perfectly painted anymore. You were not going to admit it out loud, but the messy look was something that did wonders to you, and you hated the thought of being able to have him like this, with a paint-stained face, and a body that was not the least bit tired of the day.

His mouth guided upwards then, following an invisible line that travelled from your belly button all the way to your lips again, kissing you as his fingers were still sliding in and out, his thumb still working circles over the bundle of nerves. You felt him shift his weight, his hand moving up from your waist, sliding over the back of your head and grabbing a fistful of hair. The sensation made your breath hitch.

Luke broke the kiss, a small grunt leaving his mouth, "You feel so good" he grunted, "So warm, and tight" his fingers curled inside you, again. His hand pulled slightly on your scalp, the tug feeling like electricity shooting through your spine.

He wanted to know if you´ll feel that good when he fucked you.

The thought alone had him throbbing painfully, aching to be inside you. Fuck-, he wanted it now.

"Let me fuck you" he asked, almost begged, "Let me fuck you, sweetheart. I know you want it." he whispered.

Gods, did he love a dirty talk.

You were so lost in pleasure that his words were barely registering, but the way he was touching you, and the way he was speaking to you. His front was almost pressed against you, your fingers taking a grip of the skin of his waist and back, scratching whenever the scissoring of his fingers hit that spot. And you loved the feeling of his hot skin touching with yours. Why not take it a little bit further?

"Go on then" you replied, barely, and a moan followed right after. He could tell it took a lot out of you, the effort to speak, but he could not have been more thankful for your reply. His fingers slid out of you, slowly, instantly missing the feeling of it.

Luke pressed another kiss on your lips before leaning away, "Sit up" he ordered, and you did. He didn´t say anything as he did the exact same thing while he got rid of his pants. His erection was obvious, tightened by the fabric of his boxers, and you could only watch, his cock hard, thick and pulsing.

He didn't even ask as he took a grip of the back of your leg, forcing you to straddle over him. The sudden move was quick, but you could only hold onto his shoulders, the new position making you sit directly on top of his erection, a hiss past his lips, but he liked it. He loved having you like this, and his hand was already reaching for the skirt, moving the fabric out of the way as you took matter into your own hands, pulling down on his underwear to relieve his painfully hard cock.

You held onto his length, the tip already wet, the precum leaking, and he groaned. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing labored, eyes closed. You stroked him slowly, your hand tightening around him.

"Shit" he muttered, "Don't stop" he moaned.

You moved your hand up and down, stroking his length, and his hips jerked against your palm, and he could have cum just right there. You twisted slightly around it, the pad of your thumb softly caressing his tip, stealing a filthy moan from the back of his throat. He only wanted this for a short time, or else he would explode on your hand, he knew it.

So he let you have your fun for a moment, before he took a hold of your wrist, stopping you, "You have no idea how close I am" he breathed. "Can I fuck you already?"

And come on, did he even need to ask?

You were quick to reply, "Stop asking and just do it". His arm moved around your waist, pushing his hand under the skirt, moving the fabric out of the way. The lost feeling of his fingers on you was soon replaced by the tip of his cock, teasing the entrance. He moaned. He didn't push in yet, his hand guiding his cock between the folds, rubbing his shaft against the wetness.

"You feel so good already" he moaned, his other hand holding onto the base of his length, giving himself a few pumps before he let his tip slide into you, his hand quickly grabbing a hold of the back of your neck, pulling your head towards him. And he was quick to slide inside.

His lips swallowed the small gasp that left you, the feeling of his cock stretching you being too much to handle in a matter of just a moment. "That's it, that's my girl" he muttered against you.

He began rocking his hips, slow and steady, letting you adjust. "Come on" he encouraged, his arm tightening around you. You began to move, slowly, the sensation almost unbearable, and he moaned, the feeling of him hitting the right spots was all it took. You usually hated this position; the discomfort on your thighs, the burning, how tiring it was, and the fact that the person on top always seemed to not hit the right spot. But with Luke, it was different. It felt different, damn it.

He grunted with a particular roll of your hips, and you moaned, the feeling of him filling you up being enough to make the fire burn hotter, and you clenched around him, causing him to let out a curse. He gripped the skin of your hips, his hips thrusting upwards, his cock sliding further into you, the sound of the two bodies colliding filling the room like a slap. His mouth fell open, his fingers digging into the flesh, holding onto you like his life depended on it, his eyes shut tightly, brows furrowed. And the sound, the lewd and wet sounds coming from the connection between the two bodies, mixed with the moans and the sound of skin, was delicious.

He felt so good, the way his hips bucked against yours, the way he stretched you, filled you, the way he moaned. It was the best fuck of your life, and you hadn't even reached the climax yet.

He placed a hand behind him, onto the mattress, the hand that still held you guiding the dancing of your hips. He began moving his hips, meeting each of your movements, his pace slower than before, but deeper. Your hands reached for his pelvis for your own support, nails scratching the skin.

"Fuck, fuck" he cursed. He let his head fall back, and the sight was mesmerizing, the veins on his neck, the sweat on his forehead, the messy black and white face paint, his mouth falling open and his chest raised and fell. His muscles flexed under the dim light, the moonlight shining over his skin. And his hair was a mess, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. You never thought someone could look that pretty while fucking.

"You´re being so great" he praised, "So good, sweetheart" his hips snapped, hard, and it hit just the right spot, and a gasp left your lips.

"Oh my-," you whimpered, "There, there, please" you begged. And Luke loved a good beg, he would have to remember that.

"Here?" he smirked, his hips rolling upwards again, the same movement, hitting the exact same spot, and a moan left his lips. He knew he found it when your walls tightened around him, and he couldn't help the way his own legs twitched.

Your thighs already burned, the muscles begging for mercy. It was painful, the strain, the effort, the exhaustion. You didn't want to admit it, but you found yourself thinking that you wouldn´t stop for Luke even if it hurt. He just felt too good to let go now.

"Keep going, don't stop"

And the way he fucked, and the way he was so good at it. Luke was a fast learner, and he didn't waste any time in finding the right spot, and he didn't hesitate on keeping his hips thrusting against you. He could tell by the way you moved, and the way you cried, that you were getting closer.

He felt your walls begin to tighten, and the way they did it, the feeling, was something else, and it only took him a few more rolls of his hips, and he could feel the heat begin to coil at the pit of his stomach. But he didn't want to cum just yet.

"Hold it, baby. Hold it for me, yeah?" he grunted. And the way he called you that, the way his voice was laced with a command, it made you weak. You didn't know how long you could last. He had already brought you to the edge once, and he was doing it again. He could feel the pressure building up, his hips stuttering. "We´ve got all night. Shit, I could fuck you all night" his voice was strained, and you knew he was getting closer too.

The more you tried to hold it, the worst everything felt. You needed to let it go in order to feel him let go too. You wanted-, needed Luke to finally snap, to release inside you. "Luke-" you called, and your voice was a whisper, and you didn't know if he heard it. "Please"

And you grabbed his hand, the one holding yout hips. Your poor movements kept on going as both your hands held his, leading it close to your lips. You placed a kiss on the knuckles, the gesture being enough for him to open his eyes and look at you, and not stop even when you darted his thumb to your lips, pressing them on your tongue.

He saw it before he felt it, the way your tongue moved along the pad of his thumb, the saliva sticking as you wrapped your mouth around his digit. Fuck. The sight-, the sight. You. You killed him. It was just the way he wanted you.

His hips stuttered and shook, your own breath getting caught up in your throat and tightening, the warmth pooling. You came undone. The orgasm washing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and shaking, the feeling of your release was so powerful. And he came not long after. He couldn't help but follow your release, his own cock throbbing, releasing his cum inside you.

You felt like you could pass out, heavy breathing and sweating and all, the cold night air suddenly hitting both of your heated bodies.

You fell forward, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding onto him as if you were drowning. Luke wrapped his own arms around your back, pulling you close, his chest rising and falling against yours, his heartbeat fast and erratic, just like yours.

"Gods-" he said, panting, his hands roaming over your back.

"Yeah" you laughed, lifting your head up to look at him, your breath hitting his face when you still managed to catch your breath. Luke chuckled then, a little hum vibrating on his chest. "What?" you asked.

Luke gestured his face with a hand, but his eyes roamed over your face constantly; your eyes, your cheeks, your nose. Even down your neck. "I did a number on you, huh?" he chuckled.

[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.

[phoenix--flying]

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

[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.

[ixtaek]

They were all incredibly kind.

Zelda watched them as they helped the former residents of Skyloft—moving supplies, crafting tools, teaching the patrols how to defend themselves from the dangers of the surface.

The Hero of Hyrule demonstrated how to tell if water was safe to drink. “You want water that’s moving, and ideally deep.” He grinned as he ladled out of a bucket. “It’s best to boil the water and let it cool. That will get rid of any toxins and germs that might be lingering in it.” He tried to take a sip but the water poured out faster than he expected, pouring down his front as Kukiel giggled at him.

A vision flashed through Zelda’s mind, overlaying the scene. The Hero of Hyrule gripping a sword, blood dripping down his tunic as he struggled away from a monster clawing for his face. The beast cackled as the Hero tried to swipe at them while his shield arm hung limp, shield dragging—

She blinked, Hyrule’s laughter as he dumped a spoonful of water on Kukiel as well breaking through the vision. The girl squealed and shook her head to send droplets flying.

The Hero of Twilight and Time lifted a log into place, letting the builders work to secure it in the new cabin wall. The two seemed to have a bet going about who could hold it up longer. Their arms both shook from the effort of—

A boy, barely reaching her knee, breathing heavily as he shoved his shield forward to block a blow by an undead monster. The boy lowered his defense to fumble for his sword. The monster took the blow without flinching, long teeth slavering as it unhinged its jaw and screamed—

The scene dissolved into a long bridge. A snarling boar pawed at the other end, tusks stained with blood. The monster astride its back howled a battle cry, a small child held aloft on its spear. The hero to her left gasped in horror, his blue eyes locked on the child. He spurred his steed forward, sweat dripping down his face as—

“I yield, I yield!” Twilight yelped. The wall was already secured as the hero fell back, giggling. The Hero of the Wild accepted his ten rupee bribe from Time before continuing his tickle assault on his mentor.

A mere boy staggering as the lasers hit him in the chest, the side of his head gushing blood, arms still trying to hold up a shield to protect—

“Zel?”

She turned, almost falling against Link’s chest. Sky’s eyes were soft as they traced over her face. “Are you… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, ignoring the wetness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Link. Just a little out of sorts.”

The divine blood in her burned. Link smiled and pulled her closer, hugging gently.

Soft hands wielding a flaming sword, lighting crackling through his body. Fighting a demon that should have been slain ages ago by the gods, by— by—

“… By me…”

“What?” Link held her at arms length so he could look at her face. “Zelda, what are you talking about?”

“All of you… none of you should have had to go through what you did!” Zelda could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Hylia shouldn’t have put you through all of that. She—I—used all of you! It’s all my fault for not defeating Demise sooner, before you ever had to step in and clean up my mess!”

She pushed away. Many people were staring now, villagers and heroes alike.

Falling from the cliffs as a giant bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky, the screams of his sister like—

—hounds baying in the distance, knights brandishing swords as his short legs fled—

—waves of foes overwhelming their defenses, his brothers in arms falling around him, the weapons clattering as they fell from their limp hands—

—the blade his grandfather made going flying as the blow meant for Zelda hit him head on, the wind ripping at his tunic as he heard the curse strike his friend—

She couldn’t stand it. Her feet were moving before she knew where she was going.

“Zelda! Wait!”

She kept going, the visions buffering her every which way. A mask clamping—his body fracturing—a traitor’s blade in—the island fading into—the malice clinging to his—tentacles lurching forward—his own face rendered in dark—reaching for her as a tornado sucked her away—

Zelda blinked, looking up. The impassive face of the goddess stared down, without a trace of pity. Hylia. The divine protector of her people. The holy maiden. Her.

The one who had failed, who had sent them all to—

—dark magic suffocating his split mind—sparking a flame so they wouldn’t claim his blood—the magic of the woods stripping his flesh—the dark water—the endless fighting—the intrigue—the—

“Why?!” She screamed. “Why would you do it to them? Why make them suffer?! They are just boys, and you—I—we break them down and don’t even care that we do! They must hate us for—“

“Why should we hate you?”

The voice made her wince, spinning around, covering her mouth. The heroes, all of them, stood a careful distance away, Link at the head of the group. It wasn’t him who had spoken.

The Hero of Legend ambled forward, looking up at the statue. His sharp eyes scanned the goddess, and he sighed.

“I was 11 when my uncle was killed. He held my hand as he died.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “He wasn’t killed by Hylia, or the golden three. He was killed by a wizard called Agahnim.”

“When I was 12, my best friend got turned into stone.” Four shuffled his feet. “It wasn’t Hylia who did it. It was a sorcerer named Vaati.”

“When I was 10, I was trapped in a time loop trying to stop the apocalypse.” Time ignored the whispers by the others at this admission. “It wasn’t Hylia or the goddess of time who started that disaster. It was a demon named Majora.”

“And my sister got taken by the Helmaroc King!”

“My village children were taken by Zant.”

Legend looked at her sidelong. “And guess who was behind most of those threats?”

“Ganon.” whispered Hyrule, running a finger over his gauntlets. “It’s almost always Ganon.”

“But—“ Zelda scrubbed at her face. “But it’s my fault! Why didn’t I stop Demise before he could do that to you? What sort of goddess sends children to fight her battles?”

Time snorted, moving closer to her, careful not to invade her space till she nodded weakly. “Zelda, do you think we wouldn’t have done those things?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ya think I wouldn’t have gone after my sister? No one had to make me!” Wind grinned. “In fact, nothing would have stopped me!”

The others nodded.

“But I saw it, the terrible things you went through! Hylia watched, and you suffered!” She gestured at them all. “What you’re still suffering! This quest—“

“Sounds to me like we have a goddess literally lookin’ out for us, even now.” Twilight crossed his arms, smirking. “Probably wouldn’t have ended as good as it has without you protecting us.”

“As good as it—“

Smiling and blushing as the newly awakened princess kissed him on the cheek—gripping the rails as the new land swung into view over the horizon—watching the reflected world bloom back into life as Lorule’s Triforce was restored—hugging the children as they rode back into the village—fields of blue flowers blooming underfoot as he rode along and watched the reconstruction—the proud smile of his father as he worked with the squadron instead of going rogue—joining Zelda and Lana as they stood before the cheering troops, Hyrule free once more—Malon looking radiant as she walked down the aisle—clutching their daughter, the first Princess of the newly founded Hyrule—

Link took her hands gently. “If Hylia didn’t care, why would she—or you—have watched out for us the whole time? If you didn’t care, why would you be so upset by what we’re going through, if our own free will?” Zelda sniffled, letting him hold her. “We don’t blame you. It’s Demise’s fault, or Ganon’s. Not Hylia’s. And not yours.”

She squeezed him, looking up at the statue. Her smile was gentle, her wings spread overhead, sheltering them all. She swore she always would watch over them.

Till the very end.

[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