#but i underestimated how long this would take

[chilling-seavey]

Lessons in Lust and Other Illicit Desires (gr63) —NINETEEN

↳ A/N I love love love writing Lando in any and all universes <3

↳ Series Summary: Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

↳ Pairings: OxfordProfessor!George Russell x Innocent!Student!OC, Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc (background)

↳ Chapter Word Count: 4.1k

↳ Chapter Warnings: 18+, protected sex, minor mentions of pain but he's gentle, some begging, dirty talk, minor choking, praise, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, oh and lying <3

Rosaline vastly underestimated how easy it would be to coerce Lando Norris into asking her out. She couldn’t think of a single other time where her attempt at flirting successfully landed her a guy—in fact, her track record showed that it caused guys to run in the complete opposite direction—so, to be frank, she had zero hope going into this plan. Maybe Lando was just immensely easy or desperate or something to ask her out after only two arm touches and one doubled-over laugh at his joke that wasn’t even that funny. Maybe she had been learning a lot more from George than she had anticipated. Regardless, it made her plan a whole lot easier so who was she to complain.

On Sunday afternoon, Rosaline stood outside her dormitory building, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she waited for Lando to pick her up. They had agreed on 1:00, but as the minutes crept past 1:15 with no sign of him, she exhaled sharply, glancing down the empty stretch of road. Never had she known Lando to be on time for anything so, really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Plus, what was a few minutes when at least this time, going out with one of her peers, she didn’t have to take the bus just to be inconspicuous. 

Not long later, an all-black Mini Cooper pulled through the gated entrance of the dormitory quad, windows down, music blasting, earning a few glances from other students walking the grounds. With his arm resting half out of the car window and an embarrassingly orange cap sitting backwards over his usual unruly curls, Lando slowed to a stop at the curb, nudging his sunglasses down his nose to offer her a grinning smile.

“Hello,” he greeted simply. 

“Hi,” Rosaline snorted, “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

“I try.” he then cocked his head, “Hop in.”

Rosaline helped herself to the passenger side of his car and she barely got herself buckled before Lando was peeling off through gates to loop back around to the main roads of Oxford. She was thrown back in her seat a little at the force and she gasped softly in surprise. Lando seemed perfectly unbothered as he sang along casually to the music playing. 

He was a safe driver, Rosaline noted, but he did have a tendency to speed, maneuvering his car through the narrow streets like it was another extension of himself. She had come to realize that everything with Lando felt so fast and she couldn’t help but compare him to the seemingly gracefulness of George; poised, polished, precise. Even their cars reflected who they were in a way—Lando’s sporty black Mini Cooper to George’s classy white Mercedes—polar opposites. 

After a moment of silence in the front seat, Rosaline decided to spark up a conversation, “So, this is your car?”

“Yeah. Mint, right?” Lando reached forward to turn down the music as he drove, “Saved up some money from streaming to afford it. Decked it all out with black rims…tinted windows…everything. Gangsta.”

Rosaline chuckled half-sarcastically, “Oh, yeah, for sure. ‘Gangsta’ is the first word that comes to mind when I think of you.”

Lando shot her a playful grin, “Aw, you think of me?”

“Shut up.” she snorted with a shake of her head. 

When Lando drifted to a stop at an intersection and looked both ways in anticipation to make a turn, she eyed the symbol on the front of his cap that had been hidden with how he had been wearing it backwards. It looked familiar and she thought back to that one Sunday at George’s house where he introduced her to Formula 1 and walked her through some of the teams. 

Knowing the importance of appearing involved and interested on a date, Rosaline stated, “Your hat—is that the logo of that F1 team you like?”

“Yeah! McLaren.” As he drove, Lando reached up to swing the cap around so it was facing forward and he pointed to the embroidered ‘81’ on the brim and the scribbly signature alongside it, “Signed by Oscar Piastri too. I got him to sign it when I went to Silverstone one year…got up freaking early to be at the front of the gates and everything. It’s, like, my most prized possession.”

“More than your car?” she challenged playfully. 

Lando laughed, “Yes. Until one day Oscar can sign my car. Hopefully then I’ll have a McLaren F1 of my own.”

Clueless to exactly what he meant, Rosaline replied casually, “I dunno if you can drive F1 cars on the roads, can you?”

“Oh my God,” his voice went up two octaves and he rubbed his forehead with his fingertips in utterly amused disbelief, “McLaren F1 is the style of roadcar. It’s not…a Formula 1 race car. Although that’d be sick.”

“Oh, God, don’t tell my friends I’m this clueless. They’ll never let me live it down.”

Lando turned his cap back around with a quick flirty smile in her direction, “Your secret is safe with me.”

He had insisted on taking her to play mini golf at this establishment just outside of the city; it was a frequent spot for the university students and something much more fun than just sitting and sharing a meal for a first date. It was a very Lando venue too, Rosaline thought, as the whole course was glow-in-the-dark and everything was neon and vibrant and the holes were made up of some of the most crazy obstacles she had ever seen. She never thought it was possible for Lando’s orange hat to be any brighter but it nearly glowed under the lights of the course, making it impossible to lose him. 

Although she didn’t want to be on a date with Lando, it was hard to deny that he wasn’t fun to spend time with and for the duration of their mini golf game, it really felt like she was spending time with a good friend. She had been incredibly reluctant when they were paired up for the project in George’s class but as they were forced to spend time together to complete it, she found herself enjoying his company. He was fun. Curse forced proximity and how it always seemed to know just when to come into play. 

They spent two hours navigating the themed mini golf courses and definitely bent the rules more often than they followed them, neither of them taking it too seriously. Lando often hopped along the curbs and stumbled over props as he tried to get out of the way of Rosaline’s putts, definitely earning him a few warnings from the employees to ‘please be careful’. It was impossible to stay too focused when he was treating the game like a playground, but she had to admit—it made the afternoon more fun than she’d expected.

Somehow, she managed to beat him as they tallied up their scores at the end of the course and he claimed it was because he was better at normal golf than mini golf…and that he had been going easy on her. She didn’t quite believe either statement but she played along for his sake. 

Once they had returned their putters and neon golf balls and emerged out into the bright afternoon light to head back to his car, they were walking an ounce closer to each other than they had been earlier, sharing rambunctious laughter over something or another. It was easy to be swayed by Lando’s youthful rowdiness, joining him in his glee and dramatics, hands flailing and stories exaggerated and volume loud as if he never minded being the centre of attention. 

They ended up at some pizza place nearby, sitting at a table for two with a sizable pie between them and each with a large fountain drink. Lando leaned over as he took a massive bite of his first slice, half the toppings falling off and back into the box.

“Ew!” Rosaline laughed.

Lando nearly choked on his humongous bite through his laughter, speaking through his mouthful, “I’m trying to see what’s the smallest number of bites I can take.”

Rosaline chuckled and unlocked her phone and opened Instagram before directing her camera at him, “Smile!”

His eyes scrunched at the corners as he offered her a toothy grin through his next bite, tomato sauce in the corners of his mouth, and a few stray curls escaping from the space above the clasp of his orange cap. She snapped the picture and then tagged Lando’s account and added a gif of (whom she assumed was) Oscar Piastri in a matching orange race suit giving a thumbs up. She posted it to her story and silently swore she could totally be part of a successful PR relationship if she really wanted to. She was going to have people fooled. She set her phone aside on the table and then leaned in to grab a slice for herself. 

Lando raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaware of the sauce in the corner of his mouth, “Did you just post that?”

“Yep,” Rosaline smirked, “I even tagged you.”

“Wow, instagram official on the first date. That’s serious.” Lando hummed playfully, “I feel honored. You don’t give me the vibes of a girl who posts about a guy unless it’s serious.”

Rosaline hesitated for a fraction of a second before playing along with a small chuckle, “My gosh, well it’s not like I posted anything incriminating or racy. It’s just you eating pizza.”

“Mhm,” Lando reached for his drink and took a lengthy sip before setting it back down and asking, “So what was the deal with that mystery guy your friends were talking about the other day in the library? Are you, like, broken up then?”

Rosaline almost choked on her bite of pizza at the unexpected question. She swallowed roughly and reached for her drink to wash it down with a hoarse, “What?”

Lando shrugged, completely unaware of the way her stomach flipped, “That day in the library when we were working on the project—your friends were grilling you about some guy. They seemed pretty intense about it.”

“Oh,” Rosaline forced a laugh despite her downset gaze, waving it off, “They were just being dramatic.”

He was watching her as he took another bite, speaking through it, “But there was someone then?”

“I mean, kind of? It wasn’t really a thing.”

“Damn, so I’m the rebound?” he teased, nudging her foot under the table.

She nudged him back with a small smile, “Hardly.”

There was a pause before he added more seriously, “But, like…you’re over him or whatever, right?”

The question caught her off guard. She had never been a wonderful liar but she had written liars enough to hopefully be able to get by; not too dismissive to appear suspicious but not too sentimental either. So she gave a nonchalant shrug as she lifted her drink with a simple but effective, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Fair enough,” Lando let out a small laugh, smiling through his next bite, and then shrugged, “His loss then.”

She offered a barely audible “Yeah” in reply.

The rest of their dinner progressed smoothly and once the pizza was finished and their drinks were empty and the excitement after a long afternoon had started to fizzle, the date seemed to reach its natural conclusion. 

Lando stretched his arms above his head and then let them fall back against the tabletop with a sigh, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to run to the toilet before we leave,” Rosaline said as she got up from her chair, “Be right back.”

As she had her moment of privacy in the washroom of the restaurant, her mind was whirling with the realization that the date had gone so well. Outside of George, this was her first date with someone her age and the fact that she had gone through the entire process from formulation to completion arguably all on her own merit filled her with this sense of pride. And she had enjoyed it. Sure, she took it more as a friendly hangout than a date but a win was a win.

She returned to their table and Lando was slouched back in his seat, glancing at her as she approached. She picked up her phone from the table top and took her purse from the back of her chair to drape it over her shoulder, “Okay, all set.”

“Okay,” Lando rose from his seat and slid on his sunglasses as he led the way to the door. 

The bell above the door tinked as they stepped out into the late afternoon sun and Rosaline followed behind him into the parking lot. She checked her notifications on the way, seeing a text from George front and centre:

G: I hope it’s going well today. I know you don’t want to be out with him but it’s just to keep the suspicions away from us 🤍 Come round to mine after and I’ll help you forget all about it xx

Lando unlocked his car and glanced back at her as if to make sure she was still following as she typed out a quick reply:

-It’s been nice. I’ll have him drop me on campus and head over to yours xx

Sliding her phone into her purse, she opened the passenger side door of the car and climbed in. Lando turned the key in the ignition and fiddled with the Bluetooth for a minute before his music started playing again.

“I’ll drop you back at Pembroke then?” he asked as he backed out of the parking spot.

“Actually, if you could drop me off at Worcester College, that’d be great. I’m meeting a friend.” Rosaline asked casually. 

“Yeah, sure.”

They drove in calm silence to nothing but the sound of Lando’s music playing through the speakers, the windows down and Rosaline’s hair flying around her head. She was itching to get to George’s to tell him all about it, especially since she hadn’t seen him in a few days and she was itching for something else too. Worcester College was only a few blocks from his street so it wouldn’t be too much of a trek to get to his house and Lando would be none the wiser. 

As he pulled up into the gates of the College on the westernly outskirts of the city, Rosaline gathered her purse, “I had a really lovely day. Thank you.”

“Me too,” Lando offered, sending her a tame smile once he parked by the curb.

She reached for the door handle, “See you on Tuesday?”

“Yep, see you then.”

In a fit of bravery, Rosaline leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek…just to play the part. Before he could reply, she was opening the door and climbing out and shutting it behind her. He leaned over to give her a final goodbye before pulling away from the curb and she waved after him, lingering there until she was sure he was out of sight, and then she turned on her heel and walked right back out the college gates. 

If George could taste the strong tinge of Lando’s aftershave on her lips, he didn’t speak to it. Or, rather, there was no space to speak to it as her feverish kisses she planted on him the moment she walked in the door rendered him mute. She was a woman on a mission and more than desperate to take him up on his offer to help her forget all about it. And he was more than willing to do just that.

They ended up on his living room couch, bathed in the late afternoon sun through the front windows, a tangle of limbs and lips and lingering touches and pulls on clothes. It had been a week since she had given him her virginity and six days since they had last had sex; to say Rosaline was starving for it would be an understatement. As clothes were shed, George pulled away from her swollen lips just long enough to run upstairs to grab the new box of condoms he bought, taking the stairs two at a time while she waited [im]patiently on the couch. 

The second he returned and set the twenty-four pack on the coffee table, he had already taken one out of the box and was leaning down to kiss her again before he even sat back down. Clothes littered the living room, tossed blindly to the rug or across the floor to the chair in the corner, stripping them both down to comfortable nudity between tongue-led kisses before he was easing her flat onto the couch. 

Rosaline couldn’t help but giggle up at him as she got herself comfortable with her head on one of the cushions against the arm of the couch, watching how he ripped open the condom wrapped to hurriedly put it on. Her sweet sound had him glancing down at her with that polite, handsome smile of his, despite the way his eyes were dilated with lust all for her. She could never get enough of the way he looked at her; she swore that no one else ever looked at her that way, not even Lando. 

George nudged her legs apart and shuffled a little closer, one foot anchoring him on the living room rug with his other knee bent on the seat of the couch to angle himself properly. She could feel those familiar butterflies in the pit of her stomach as he situated them into position, how he took control to make sure she was where he needed her and where she was comfortable. 

Their eyes locked as he leaned down over top of her with one hand firmly on the arm of the couch and the other between their bodies to help guide the head of his cock between her legs. He pressed into her slowly, cautiously, and his eyes moved all over her face as if he were reading her every minute expression, especially as her fingers pressed into his biceps and her breath hitched. After almost a week of going without, it ached again to accept him all, but he kissed over her cheeks and her lips and her nose and she breathed through it as he treated her like porcelain. 

“There we go…” George breathed comfortingly, his voice tinged with the effort of holding himself back, “Nice and slow…that’s it…”

Rosaline let out a little hum, eyes fluttering shut, her hands splaying across his back to hold him close as he filled her completely. Despite the slight ache, it was still much easier than the first time and almost right away she was giving him the go-ahead to start to move. He sealed the agreement with a kiss as he started to roll his hips against hers in precise, curling motions that had her fingers pressing into the muscle of his back. 

“Mmph, fuck, please—” she stumbled out. 

His eyes locked on hers as he made love to her on his living room couch, turning her brain to mush so the only name on her lips was his. They kissed sloppily like that, tangled together and desperate for pleasure from the other, and when George sped up a little more, she certainly didn’t complain. 

Her head arched back against the arm of the couch with a pretty whine, legs parting wider until she could get them wrapped around his waist, needily pulling him closer, deeper, anything. He was the only one who could satisfy that hunger within her. She just kept breathlessly asking for more like she was insatiable, wanting every ounce of him to herself until everything else fell away. And he kept asking ‘are you sure’ like she was too precious, too delicate, and he dared not hurt her. 

Rosaline trusted him more than anyone else in the world, happily giving her everything to him and trusting him to give everything back in return. She trusted him to get a little rough with her until her fingers were scratching across his shoulder blades and she was crying out to his living room ceiling through a messy chant of ‘yes, yes, yes’. His breath was hot against her neck, tied in with handsome muffled grunts of pleasure as he took her as she so desired, and, beside her head, his hand found a white knuckled grip of the arm of the couch to hold himself upright. 

She stared up into his eyes like that, filled with pleasure she never before knew possible, taking his every firm thrust with eager encouragement; little nods, sweet sounds, anything to keep him going, knowing that she was enjoying it. Then, as if speaking behind her natural filter that was hazed by pleasure, her mouth formed words in a barely audible breath, “Please come inside me.”

Of course, they both knew he was wearing a condom but the concept of him claiming her without felt all the more shiver-worthy. George moaned warmly above her, “Yeah? You want that, darling?”

“Fuck, uh huh,” Rosaline whimpered, clutching onto him tighter as she stared up into his steadfast gaze, “Please gimme it. I won’t tell anyone.”

Something flashed in George’s eyes, something full of want, like she had reached into his very soul and grasped onto something he had been trying so hard to push down for her sake. And then, knowing how she’d liked it before, he wrapped his fingers around her throat, just barely squeezing, and he spoke down to her, “You won’t tell anyone? You’ll be a good fucking girl for me then?”

Her eyes fluttered as his large hand found its home around her throat, “Yeah…please, sir.”

“Yeah, you will,” George groaned out tightly.

He barely made it a few more thrusts before he released hard into the condom, burying himself as deep inside her so she could feel every inch of him throbbing against her tight muscles as she clutched onto him. Rosaline’s lips parted in a silent breath at the feeling, eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle, trying to imagine how feeling him naturally would feel. She couldn’t get too ahead of herself. 

She barely had a second to blink herself back to reality before he was easing out of her and slipping off the side of the couch so he was keeling on the rug, clammy hands wrapping around her thighs and yanking her closer to the edge so he could lean down and get his mouth on her. More sensitive than anything, the simple touch of his tongue against her aching clit and the warmth of his slightly breathless pants had her back arching off the couch and a gasp tearing itself from her lungs almost completely involuntarily. Her fingers pressed into the expensive leather upholstery while George slid three fingers into his mouth to moisten before sinking them inside her, just to keep her stimulated with a nice bit of stretch. 

“Yeah…” she whimpered as he started to thrust his fingers inside her in short, precise little jabs while his tongue lapped purposefully at her clit. She dropped a hand down to rake through his hair, tugging on the roots as if to equal parts pull him closer and push him away.

He made her come in no time, almost like he was an expert of her body, groaning against her cunt as she creamed around his fingers and he cleaned her up with his tongue. It felt like fire was pouring through her veins and her thighs trembled with the influx of waves of pleasure tearing through her. She genuinely smiled to the ceiling through it, fingers tight in his hair like she never wanted to let him go.

When she was pleasantly finished, they took a second to catch their breaths. George was still kneeling on the floor and had rested his cheek against her thigh while she stayed splayed out over the couch with her arm draped across her forehead, chests heaving. After a moment, he kissed her knee and looked up at her and when she glanced down to meet his gaze, they shared soft smiles. 

George then asked a cheeky, “So…how was the date?”

They had barely even spoken a proper word to each other since she had stepped over the threshold, much preferring to make up for their six days of lost time instead. So, now, satisfied and spent, she let out a soft laugh and answered, “It was fine. I beat him at mini golf.”

Through a proud smile, he gave her calf a squeeze, “That’s my girl.”

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[staghunters]

It's the last time running through snow

'Cause the fire can't last and the winter's cold

Yellowjackets Appreciation Week Day 2: favorite character

[thebayclans]

Prologue pages 12-14

Blue-orange torbie: Thrushflame, she/her

Black and white cat: Loonshadow, she/her

Horizonpaw: our protagonist, she/they

previous | next

[aetherean-alchemist]

Ma meilleure ennemie c'est toi

[liyuviq]

HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAYYYY OYAAAAAA @oya-oya-okay 🎉🎉🎉🎉💕💕💕💕💕💕💞💞💞💞

i would have never imagined tht so many things happened since i posted tht art gift for u like almost two months ago?? wait wht it’s been two months???

being mutual with u have made so many of my days with the interactions we had. u r always so sweet n supportive. i still remember the day i received my first shin fanart from u ☺️☺️

u even introduced me to so many more wonderful people in this community. it was amazing to see how involved u r in this fandom on tumblr and see how many people support & care for u (esp through this event). u rlly inspired me to step out of my shell more and interact with others instead of lurking around like i used to do <3

lets keep having many more good memories moving forward! dont stop being the wonderful person u are!! once again, happy birthdayyy 🎉🎊🎂💕💕💕

no text ver:

[paperultra]

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

[matcha-b]

happy 11th anniversary vflower!!

[beatcroc]

soooo pissed this was supposed to be MY weekend to draw old bot yaoi and then my supervisor called and was like hi 🥺🥺 can you come in for some overtime w/ a project in the freezer🥺🥺🥺our main guy needs help and youre like our best lift driver 🥺🥺, and i was like ohhh yeah ok sure i don't mind lift work for just a couple extra hours that's chill ^_^. AND THEN THE MAIN GUY CALLED OUT AND IT ENDED UP TAKING ME 20 HOURS ALONE. completely ate my weekend and im only barely into the first panel or so of the robot yaoi

[chill--cat]

🍰 Happy Birthday Shouto! 🍰

[cloudinal]

Day 1 - Fated Meeting

[fruitsyrups]

May I request a vampire world Marcy?

you may. (I threw in a little vamp world Bonnie for you as well 🦇)

[riboku]

happy tanabemas @birdmenmanga! — prompt roue's eyes + vocaloid producer nulut

Roue, your right eye is so pretty. It's the color of the sky.

[glass-warehouse]

oooouuughhggh,,, halloween,,

oh my god, I've got wip images too?

[butmakeitgayblog]

which fic of yours started out as a silly quick piece then just blew up?

Fucking all of them

[hplonesomeart]

Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3

…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol

BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!

I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.

Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)

Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!

I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)

[insecateur]

sharing some of my yume nikki art from 2019 because it's still good

you can see them all (alongside some .flow stuff i might repost later) on my pixiv here!