#diet fic

[avida-heidia-5]

Fine Fettle Vettel | Formula 1

Starring: Sebastian Vettel, Guillaume “Rocky” Rocquelin, Mark Webber

Relationship(s): Socky (Seb/Rocky), Martian

Fic Type: Oneshot

Words: 9.9k

Sebastian has a habit of turning up late and telling fibs about his whereabouts and what he’s up to, so his race engineer Rocky decides to set up a challenge for him: He wants the little German boy to be on time and to be honest about everything he does. The reward? A fresh supply of delicious chocolate brownies.

Sebastian loves a good challenge and treats them all very seriously like it's a big competition, stopping at nothing to complete them all and come out on top. However, this challenge in particular sends him over the edge. When it comes to Seb and chocolate, it’s never ever a want, it’s a need.

This fic was written for my good friend and incredibly talented writer Tian (Tianvette on AO3). I hope you like it! 💙

Available to read on AO3.

[kikimurphys]

In Your Car

Summary: When a forbidden attraction ignites between you and Cillian Murphy, your stepfather’s best friend, a simple drive in his car turns into a dangerously seductive night neither of you can resist.

Warnings: Age gap, smut.

Notes: hi loves. sorry it took me so long to update any story. i promise im going to be more active from now on. as an apology i bring to you this smutty one shot. its pure filth! enjoy.

************

The sun was just setting, and the city lights cast a soft glow through the streets as dusk deepened into night. You leaned in close to the mirror, swiping on a touch of gloss to make sure your lips looked just right. With a final check, you dusted a hint of blush over your cheeks, giving them a warm, natural flush. Just as you finished, you heard a familiar sound from outside.

Beep. Beep.

You peered through your bedroom window to see the man you'd been waiting for. Cillian’s sleek car idled by the curb, his arm draped casually over the open window as he glanced up, looking effortlessly cool.

You had known each other for a while now, but from the moment you met his piercing blue eyes, you couldn't get him out of your head. He was Paul’s—your stepfather’s—best friend, and when your mum and Paul moved in together, Cillian quickly became a regular guest at birthdays and random Friday night dinners.

At 48, Cillian was a seasoned actor with an easy charm, and his celebrity status had always intrigued you. But beyond that, he was genuinely kind and insightful, someone who made you feel seen in a way few others did. You admired his intelligence and the way he seemed to genuinely find you interesting, not just a "kid" tagging along.

Unbeknownst to you, he saw you as more than just Paul's stepdaughter. He enjoyed your company and was constantly surprised by your wit and insight. He appreciated the way you carried yourself—so youthful, confident, and quick to laugh. But there was no denying how beautiful he found you, even if he tried not to entertain the thought.

When the weather turned warmer, and you showed up in dresses that hugged your hips or swimsuits that left little to the imagination, he couldn’t help but steal glances. Each time, he caught himself, mentally reminding himself that you were off-limits. But it was complicated—he knew you were no longer a child. Nineteen now, freshly turned, and he couldn’t resist noticing how captivating you’d become.

Ever since you met him at 17, he’d stirred something in you, a curiosity and attraction you couldn’t shake. He was the first—and only—man you ever fantasized about when you touched yourself. You’d always had a thing for older men, and unlike the boys your age, he had a calm confidence and depth that drew you in. The musky aftershave he wore had you clenching your thighs together more times than you cared to admit.

The way he carried himself—with quiet confidence, intelligence, and a touch of shyness—made your stomach flutter every time. Cillian was a gentleman to the core, but he had no idea what his mere presence did to you. Some nights, you found yourself wishing he’d just throw caution to the wind, come to your room, and fuck your brains out.

It wasn’t like you were particularly sexual before him. Boys and hookups never interested you, and you were still a virgin. But Cillian? He was different.

“Can’t you knock, like the gentleman you are?” you teased, leaning out the window with a playful grin.

He smirked, glancing up at you with that familiar glint in his eyes. “And miss the grand entrance?” he quipped, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Come on down, love. Give me a kiss.”

Butterflies swirled in your stomach as you grabbed your bag and hurried downstairs, excitement bubbling beneath your skin. You sauntered toward his car, fully aware of the sway in your hips and how his gaze lingered on you. His eyes followed every curve, heating your skin.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you leaned over to greet him with a light kiss, your lips brushing his. The tip of your tongue grazed his in a brief, teasing flick before you pulled back, leaving him wanting more.

“This is a nice ride,” you said casually, running your fingers along the smooth leather of the interior as he pulled away from the curb.

He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smirk. “Nice, is it? Wait till you see where it takes you.”

You laughed, the cheesy line making you roll your eyes even as you felt your heart race. As the city lights blurred past, his hand moved from the gear shift to your thigh, his fingers resting lightly at first, then tracing slow, idle circles against your skin. A spark shot through you, warmth pooling deep in your core.

“You always drive this fast,” you teased, glancing over at him, “or are you just trying to impress me?”

His lips curved into a slow, teasing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before returning to the road. “Depends,” he said, voice like honey. “Is it working?”

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat with a coy smile. “Hmm… maybe a little. But you’ll have to do better than that, Cillian.”

”He raised an eyebrow, his thumb pausing for a moment before resuming its lazy motion on your thigh. “Oh, I’m just getting started, love,” he murmured, his accent thickening, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me know when I’ve got your full attention.”

You often flirted and teased each other like this, the charged banter lingering between you but never quite crossing the line. Well, except for that one time on Paul’s birthday.

It was reckless, thrilling, and so deliciously wrong. You’d pulled him into a closet while the party bustled just outside, sinking to your knees and swallowing him whole without hesitation. He didn’t resist. How could he? The way you looked up at him, mischief glinting in your eyes, made it impossible to deny you.

Your lips stretched around his thick cock, taking him in with an eagerness that left him undone. His breath hitched as your mouth worked him over, your tongue and lips moving in perfect rhythm. The soft, wet sounds mingled with the muffled chatter from the next room, the risk of discovery only adding to the heat between you.

Cillian could hardly believe how perfect it felt—the way your mouth enveloped him, as if made just for him. And those eyes, gazing up at him through thick lashes, sent a shudder through his body. When he came, it was with a groan he barely managed to stifle, his hands tangled in your hair as you swallowed him down without missing a beat.

Then, as if nothing had happened, you slipped back into the party with a sly smile, leaving him breathless, dazed, and entirely captivated.

It had felt so natural, so right. Later that night, after the guests had left and the house had grown quiet, he came upstairs. Standing at your bedroom door, he kissed you goodnight—a slow, lingering kiss that left no room for confusion. With a husky murmur, he promised you more, whispering that he’d make it up to you with a proper night, just the two of you.

And now, here you were, in the car of a man twice your age, hurtling toward a situation that was anything but appropriate.

You turned your head to him, biting your lip as a sly smile spread across your face. “You already have it,” you said softly, your voice dripping with mischief.

“I mean…” Your voice was soft and playful. “I’ve waited long enough for this night. How could I not?” you murmured, a spark of mischief dancing in your eyes.

A small smile lingered on his lips as he took in your words, his hand giving a light squeeze on your thigh, and his piercing blue gaze holding yours with undeniable intensity. “Long enough, hmm?”

Your hand moved to rest on his leg, fingers grazing the muscle beneath, while you leaned in close to place kisses on his neck. “Yeah,” you whispered into his ear, your voice barely more than a breath, laced with anticipation.

Cillian tilted his head slightly, granting you better access, his focus split between the road and the feel of your lips trailing along the sensitive skin near his ear. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth radiating from him as you nibbled lightly at the delicate spot behind his ear. He let out a low hum of approval, his Irish lilt thick and husky as he warned, “Careful now. Don’t tempt me while I’m driving.”

“Tempt you?” you replied innocently, though your actions betrayed you as your hand drifted lower, pressing lightly against the growing bulge in his jeans. “I’d never.”

With a practiced ease, you unbuckled his belt, your hands deftly pushing down his waistband and briefs. His cock sprang free, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him, your mouth already watering. Wrapping your fingers around his length, you began to stroke him slowly, savoring the way he twitched in your grasp.

Cillian’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he gritted his teeth, his breaths coming harder. You met his heated gaze before leaning down, spitting lightly on his reddened tip to make your movements smoother—a bold act that earned you a deep groan from him.

The salty taste of his precum touched your tongue as you teased him, rubbing your lips over his sensitive head before dipping lower. Hollowing your cheeks, you took him into your mouth inch by inch, swallowing him whole.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair as his hips bucked upward involuntarily.

You loved the power you had over him, the way his restraint faltered under your touch. Bobbing your head, you pressed your tongue against the underside of his shaft, occasionally letting your teeth graze him just enough to make his breath hitch.

“Yeah, baby. Just like that,” he rasped, his voice rough and low, sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sound of him, his words igniting a fire within you.

Suddenly, the car slowed and came to a stop. You barely noticed until he parked at a secluded viewpoint, where the city lights shimmered across the sea in the distance. His voice was thick with amusement and desire as he leaned back, his eyes dark with lust. “You dirty girl. Couldn’t wait, could you?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen and glistening. “Mmm-mmm,” you whined softly, shaking your head with a needy expression.

Cillian’s hand slid down to caress your ass, his touch light and deliberate as his fingers traced the curve of your body. He pressed gently against your core, where your warmth had already soaked through the thin fabric of your jeans.

“Come ‘ere,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

You gave his length one last kiss before pulling back to slip out of your jeans, hurried and eager, desperate to seize this moment. You’d waited so long for this, and deep down, you didn’t know if it would ever happen again. You were determined to savor every second.

Cillian reached over, reclining the seat slightly as you climbed over to straddle him. Your lace thong was the only barrier left between you, the thin fabric doing little to conceal how much you wanted him.

You didn’t waste a second, pulling him into a hungry kiss, your hands gripping the sides of his face to hold him close. Teeth clashed as your lips molded together, your shared urgency overriding any finesse. His big hands gripped your hips, roaming down to feel the smooth skin of your bare ass. With a low groan, he guided your body to grind against him, the friction pulling a gasp from your lips.

You broke the kiss briefly, tugging at the hem of his black T-shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric to feel the heat of his skin. Cillian lifted his arms without hesitation, letting you pull it over his head and toss it aside, revealing the defined lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his shoulders. You bit your lip, eyes raking over him before pressing your palms flat against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating beneath your touch.

His mouth muffled your moans as his fingers slipped your underwear aside, brushing over your slick folds. He found your clit with ease, rubbing slow circles before sliding a finger inside you. Your head tipped back, a soft cry escaping as he added another, curling them upward to find the spot that made you see stars.

Cillian pressed kisses along your neck and chest, his stubble grazing your skin as you rocked against his hand. Each deliberate stroke and teasing curl of his fingers built a fire in your core, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second. His thumb circled your clit, his rhythm steady and maddening, and the way his fingers moved—deliberate and skilled—had you teetering on the edge.

You were so close, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. But just as the tension was about to snap, he withdrew his hand. A frustrated whimper left your lips as he used his slick-coated fingers to tease you further, running them over your folds and circling your clit again, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Do you have a condom?” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

“No… it’s fine,” you breathed, too lost in the moment to care about the consequences. The only thought in your mind was how badly you needed him. You’d deal with everything else later.

Cillian’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he eased his fingers inside you one last time, stroking slowly before pulling them away. He wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself a few times before positioning his tip at your entrance.

The initial stretch was intense, a sharp burn that quickly melted into pleasure. You hissed softly, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed deeper, inch by inch. He paused halfway, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you down onto him as you adjusted to his size.

“Relax, love,” he murmured, his free hand reaching up to brush your hair back. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he brought his slick fingers to your lips.

You parted them willingly, sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself as he muffled your soft whines. His other hand pressed down on your hips again, guiding you to take him fully, and the sensation of being filled so completely left you trembling.

You gasped sharply as he slid deeper, the stretch pulling a startled whimper from your throat. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving faint red crescents against his skin as you struggled to take him all in. The pressure was overwhelming, teetering between pain and pleasure, and your body trembled with the effort.

Cillian’s hands gripped your hips firmly, his thumbs brushing soothing circles against your skin. “You’re so bloody tight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and strained, his eyes burning as they stayed locked on yours.

A shaky laugh escaped you despite the intensity. “You… you’re not exactly small,” you managed to joke, biting your lip to suppress another gasp.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, but the heat in his gaze remained unwavering. “Is that right?” His voice was low and teasing, though his breath hitched as you adjusted around him. “We’ll make it fit, love.”

You exhaled shakily and forced yourself to relax, easing down until he was fully sheathed inside you. The fullness was dizzying, almost too much, but the way his hands guided you made it easier, his steady presence grounding you.

“Good girl,” he rasped, his grip tightening as he fought to keep still, his cock twitching inside you. “Takin’ me so well.”

The praise sent a shiver through you, and you rolled your hips experimentally, testing the friction. A gasp escaped as sparks of pleasure replaced the discomfort, and you couldn’t help the small moan that followed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head tipping back as his fingers dug into your hips. “You feel so good.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you began to move more confidently, setting a slow rhythm that had both of you moaning softly. The way his cock stretched you was perfect, hitting spots inside you that made your head spin.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as his hands roamed over your back and ass, pulling you closer. “Can’t believe how good you feel.”

His words only spurred you on, and you leaned forward, bracing your hands on the car seat as you began to pick up the pace. The friction built steadily, a delicious pressure that made you moan louder with every movement.

Cillian’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping firmly as you moved up and down his shaft. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice trembling slightly. “Ride me, baby. Just like that.”

Your nails raked lightly across his chest, leaving faint marks as you threw your head back, your hair cascading wildly around your face. “God,” you whimpered, your thighs burning as you moved faster, grinding against him with reckless abandon.

The sound of his moans only fueled your desire. Low, guttural noises spilled from his lips, mixing with soft whimpers as he tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re killin’ me,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “You’re so perfect.”

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to his in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed briefly before his tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as his hips bucked upward, driving deeper into you.

“Cillian,” you gasped against his mouth, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you fiercely, his hands guiding your movements with increasing urgency.

The pace grew frantic, both of you chasing the peak as the car windows fogged, filled with the sound of your moans and the slick, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Your thighs burned, your body trembling from the effort, but you couldn’t stop—the pleasure was too intense, too consuming.

Your hips moved up and down at a delicious rhythm. Cillian’s gaze fixed on you, awe filling his eyes as he watched the expression of pure pleasure on your face. He looked down to where you were both connected. Fuck. If he could capture this moment, it felt and looked so perfect, like it was meant only for him.

Cillian’s groans grew louder, his voice rough and raw as he murmured your name like a prayer. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hands sliding up to cup your face, pulling you into another kiss as his hips thrust upward to meet yours. “You’re so bloody perfect, love.”

The knot in your stomach tightened, the pressure building to an almost unbearable intensity. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his moans and gasps growing more desperate as he edged closer to his release.

“Cillian,” you cried out, your voice breaking as your movements grew erratic, the pleasure overwhelming. “I’m—oh, God!”

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

His words sent you spiraling, the coil snapping as your orgasm crashed over you with devastating force. Your body convulsed, your walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked your frame.

Cillian followed moments later, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep inside you. His body trembled as his release poured into you, holding you tightly as his hands roamed over your back, whispering soothing words against your skin.

You collapsed against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the aftershocks pulsed through you. His arms wrapped around you protectively, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder.

You stayed in silence for a few moments, both of you catching your breath as the haze of pleasure slowly lifted. Your chest rose and fell against his, your heartbeat echoing in the quiet intimacy of the car. Cillian’s hands slid up to your face, his touch gentle as he tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. His eyes softened as they met yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your flushed cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and tender.

You smiled shyly, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. The tenderness of the moment contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just happened, and it made your heart swell. His lips moved against yours slowly, savoring the connection, until you pulled back, resting your forehead against his.

Reluctantly, you lifted yourself off him, biting your lip as you felt the residual ache from his size. A string of wetness stretched between your bodies, a vivid reminder of your shared passion. You couldn’t resist trailing your fingers down to feel yourself, gasping softly as you realized how full you were. His release, warm and sticky, was still dripping out of you, mingling with your own arousal. The sensation sent a shiver through your body.

As you lifted your fingers, you noticed the faint tint of blood mixed in. Your breath hitched, the realization sinking in. “Is that—” you paused, staring at the evidence on your fingertips, then glanced at him, your lips curving into a sheepish, almost awed smile. “Blood?”

Cillian’s eyes flickered with concern, his brows furrowing. “Are you all right, love? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks heating. “No, it’s… it’s fine. It’s from—well, you know.” Your voice trailed off, a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “It just… felt so good.”

Relief washed over his features, though his gaze remained steady on yours. “You should’ve told me,” he said softly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your thigh. “I would’ve been more careful.”

“I didn’t want you to be,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Then, emboldened by the intimacy, you brought your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean with a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Tastes like us.”

A guttural groan escaped him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the seat as you took a deep breath, letting the moment settle around you. Outside, the city lights twinkled, reflecting off the sea in the distance. The world seemed far away, like it belonged to someone else, as you basked in the aftermath of your time together.

Cillian reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. “We should get you cleaned up,” he said, his voice still rough but filled with care. “And maybe find somewhere more comfortable than this car.”

You smirked, tilting your head at him playfully. “Comfortable? Don’t tell me you’re tired already, old man.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Careful, love. I’ve got plenty left in me, and now you’ve started something we’re not finished with yet.”

Tags:

@galactict3a @thistheivyseason @xsweetcatastrophe @mamawiggers1980 @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog @cillianmurphyfanatic

[lustnhim]

‘let’s take jesus off the dashboard’ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

‘got enough on his mind’ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

if u can’t tell by my latest fic i have a thing for…him in his car…oh well, someone please relate to me 😭

[templetogavage]

No Way to Hide

You've always tried to convince yourself that your weight gain isn't that noticeable, that you can still hide the evidence of your gluttony from the world. But who are you kidding?

It's written all over your body, in every bulge and roll that strains against your clothes. The way your shirt rides up, exposing the pale, doughy flesh of your belly. The way your chin doubles, even triples, a soft pillow of fat that betrays your lack of control.

You can feel the stares, can't you? The way people's eyes widen as you walk by, their gaze lingering on your expanding form. You can hear the whispers, the snickers, the barely-stifled laughter that follows in your wake. They all know what you are, what you've let yourself become.

And the way you move, the labored shuffle of your gait, the panting breaths you take after even the slightest exertion... it's a dead giveaway. You can't hide the toll your excess weight is taking on your body, the way it slows you down and holds you back.

Even the way you eat is a humiliating spectacle, the way you shovel food into your mouth with such greedy desperation. The way you go back for seconds, thirds, fourths, your plate always piled high with the evidence of your gluttony. You can feel the judgment, the disgust, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?

There's no way around it, no way to escape the truth of what you are. A pathetic, bloated glutton, a slave to your own base desires. And no matter how you try to hide it, to squeeze yourself into clothes that don't fit and suck in your gut, the reality of your ever-expanding body will always shine through.

Deep down, that's what you really want. To be exposed, humiliated, degraded for all to see. To have your shame on display, a testament to the depths of your depravity. Because in the end, there's no way to hide what you are, what you've become. And maybe, just maybe, that's exactly the way you like it.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[swanluvrr]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾Scary, my god, you're divine.☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Edited Murdoc because he gives me butterflies ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

[sicktember]

Sicktember 2024 Prompt-Based Resources to Help You Get Started! 💚

**Sicktember 2023 prompt-based resources can be found [Here]

Hangovers

What is a hangover [niaaa.nih.gov]

15 hangover horror stories [buzzfeed.com]

7 ways to cure your hangover [health.harvard.edu]

How to Write a Drunk Character [allwritealright.com]

Over Indulgence

Dealing with Food hangovers [health.usnews.com]

4 Ways to Stop Digestive Discomfort  [michiganmedicine.org]

I Ate Too Much. Now What Do I Do? [osfhealthcare.org]

Is It Possible… Stomach Explode? [popsci.com]

Campus/Con Crud

Crushing the Campus Crud [hercampus.com]

So What is Con Crud  [granitcon.com]

Coming Down With the Crud  [bmhsc.org]

Rogue Organs

What Is Appendicitis? [hopkinsmedicine.org]

Gallbladder Removal [nhs.uk]

Tonsillectomy [mayoclinic.org]

Spleen Problems and Removal [nhs.uk]

Dizziness/Vertigo

Understanding Vertigo [on.bluecross.ca]

Types of Vertigo [acare.abbott.com]

Dizziness vs. Vertigo [cornerstonephsio.com]

Medieval Treatment

Medicine in the Middle Ages [ncbi.nlm.nih.gov]

6 Medieval Medical Practices [guavahealth.com]

Healing Power of Maggots/Leeches (Modern) [mountainview-hospital.com]

When Medicine was Humorous [merryfarmer.wordpress.com]

Mononucleosis

About Mono [cdc.gov]

Mono For Teens [kidshealth.org]

How to Test for Mono [mountsinai.org]

Sick People Food

What People Around the World Eat When Sick [businessinsider.com]

Sick Day Foods Across the Globe  [nyubiteclub.com]

8 Best Foods to Eat When Feeling Sick [forbes.com]

Toxin/Poison

Poisons and Toxins [sciencelearn.org]

Poisoning. What The Doctors Do [thedoctorwillseeyounow.com]

Common HouseHold Poisons [cincinnatichildrens.org]

FAQs Carbon Monoxide Poisoning [cdc.gov]

Brain Fog/Spaced Out

What is Brain Fog [everydayhealth.com]

Understanding Brain Fog [henryford.com]

Causes of Zoning Out [verywellhealth.com]

Aches And Pains

What Causes Body Aches When Sick? [uclahealth.org]

5 Tips For Writing About Physical Pain [louiseharnbyproofreader.com]

Hypochondriac tendencies

Illness Anxiety Disorder [my.clevelandclinic.org]

Signs You May be a hypochondriac [centerforanxietydisorders.com]

10 Health Anxiety Myths  [happiful.com]

How To Write Anxiety [writerscookbook.com]

Anaphylactic Response

What is Anaphylaxis  [betterhealth.vic.gov.au]

Anaphylactic Shock: What You Need to Know [healthline.com]

Waiting Rooms

What happens in the emergency department [advocatehealth.com]

Triage and Emergency Assessment  [ncbi.nlm.nih.gov]

Setting Description: Emergency Waiting Room [writershelpingwriters.net]

Summer Flu

Can You Get the Flu in the Summer? [verywellhealth.com]

Leisure Sickness  [avogel.ca]

Catching a Cold When It’s Warm [newsinhealth.nih.gov]

Heart Condition/Cardiac Arrest

Types of Heart Attacks [www.healthline.com]

Common Heart Conditions [summahealth.org]

What Does a Heart Attack Feel Like? [health.clevelandclinic.org]

How to Describe a Heart Attack in a Story [writingtipsoasis.com]

Pulling a Ferris Bueller

Define Pulling a Ferris Bueller [urbandictionary.com]

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Summary [gradesaver.com]

10 Things Ferris Bueller Taught Us [dailyedge.ie]

A Note From the Mods [Tumblr Post]

Sick While Traveling

Take Steps to Stay Healthy While Traveling [cdc.gov]

Motion Sickness [sciencefocus.com]

How to Remove Vomit From Car Interior [wikihow.com]

Sick on Vacation Tips [apartmenttherapy.com]

Hospital Bed

How to Write a Hospital Scene [writersdigest.com]

Hospital Bed Components & Safety [robsonforensic.com]

9 Way to Help When Someone is Hospitalized [upstate.edu]

First Aid Kit

Make a First Aid Kit [redcross.org]

Travelers First Aid Kit [hopkinsmedicine.org]

Health Plan and First Aid for College [uh.edu]

Flushed Cheeks

Causes of Facial Flushing [verywellhealth.com]

What Can Cause Flushed Skin?  [medicalnewstoday.com]

Doctor's Note

Obtaining a Dr Note for Work [inhersight.com]

How to Get A Dr. Note for School  [solvhealth.com]

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 6.5 - Geritol

A little debrief after the lake.

Logan is finishing up putting the last of his clothes away in his closet when he’s interrupted by the loud sound of Alex and Oscar bursting into his room.

“Princess, your paupers have arrived,” Oscar announces with a grin.

Logan rolls his eyes and steps out of the closet, scanning his now mostly organized room. The scent of fresh laundry still lingers in the air, but Oscar and Alex bring with them the unmistakable smell of lake water and sunscreen. He glances at the two—Oscar sprawled across his bed like it’s his, hands behind his head, while Alex lies next to him, one arm dramatically thrown over his face.

“You guys come straight here from the lake house or what? Get up, you heathens. You’ve got the juicy details I need to hear, like, now.”

Alex groans from under his arm. “Ugh, I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

Oscar snorts. “Alex, senior citizens have better stamina than you. It was, what? Four rounds? Five, tops.”

Alex throws a lazy punch at Oscar’s side, who just laughs and brushes it off.

Logan, unable to hold back, jumps onto the bed and wedges himself between them. “I can’t believe it. So you four—this really happened?”

Oscar flashes a smug grin. “Oh, yeah, Logie boy. Your two old pals still got it. Although, one of us might need a little Geritol.” He pats Alex on the shoulder with mock sympathy.

Alex rolls his eyes, but Logan leans in closer, all ears. “This is wild. I seriously never would’ve guessed George and Carlos were a thing. But the four of you? Scandalous. Spill.”

Alex sighs dramatically, but there’s a tired smirk on his face. “Just look at Oscar’s neck.”

Logan’s eyes immediately widen when he spots the faint purple and blue marks on Oscar’s neck, barely hidden by his collar. Oscar blushes and quickly looks away, but it’s too late.

“Oh my god,” Logan laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Oscar, I didn’t know you had it in you… or maybe I should say they did? Honestly, I figured you’d come out with battle scars.”

Oscar groans and hides his face behind his hands. “Please don’t make it sound like it was a train or something.”

Alex chuckles and ruffles Oscar’s hair. “Oh, please. You loved it. Practically insatiable. You even begged for it.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping across his face. “Robo OP, begging? Who knew you were a demanding brat in bed?”

Oscar peeks out from behind his hands, half embarrassed, half proud. “It’s brat summer and look, it just… happened, okay? George and Carlos—together? Hot. And then Alex knew exactly what I like, so he made it happen. It was just… yeah.” He trails off, shooting a glance at Alex, who’s still lounging on the bed, looking tired but satisfied.

Alex stretches and sighs. “I’m done for the year, seriously. But this one?” He points at Oscar. “Couldn’t get enough.”

Logan stifles a laugh, looking between the two of them. “You wore them out?”

Oscar’s embarrassment melts away as he shrugs, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“Okay, fine I was celibate for like a year. Maybe I missed a little attention. What’s the big deal?”

Alex throws him a look. “A lot of attention. And yeah, everyone noticed.”

Oscar smirks. “Jealous?”

“Not even a little,” Alex groans, rolling onto his back. “Just don’t ask me to keep up with you next time. I’m pretty sure I nearly died.”

Logan shakes his head, laughing at the easy way Alex and Oscar banter. But as his laughter fades, his mind drifts to Max. There’s a quick flash of worry that hits him—what if Max doesn’t feel the same? He tries to shake it off, but it lingers for a second, and he can’t help but think out loud.

“You two are ridiculous,” Logan mutters, though his voice sounds a little softer than usual.

Oscar notices immediately, his teasing smile fading just a bit. “What’s up, Logs? Max still got you all twisted?”

Logan freezes, his cheeks flushing, but he quickly recovers with a scoff. “Nope. Not at all. He’s just... he's really god muscly and all that.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex presses, that familiar grin returning. “You’re telling me Mr. ‘See you soon, Angel’ shared a bed with you and nothing happened?” He dramatically mimics Max’s voice, throwing in an exaggerated swoon.

Logan groans and throws a pillow at him. “Shut up!”

Oscar snickers from the bed, clearly enjoying Logan’s discomfort. “It’s okay, Logan. If you won’t tell us, I’m sure Fernando will if we ask.”

Logan groans louder, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine, we did stuff. But only in the morning—not all night like you four.”

Oscar and Alex exchange a look before turning back to Logan, both giving him identical, curious stares.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. So why do you seem so…” Oscar starts, trailing off.

“Not excited,” Alex finishes.

Logan hesitates, playing with the pillow. “He’s perfect, guys. He knows everything I like, he’s exactly my type. Even his body—oh my god. But what if it’s like a one night stand thing? I mean, he’s so good, I think I’ll be too dickmatized once I get a taste, and what if it's just that? A taste!?”

Oscar props himself up on his elbow, looking at Logan like he’s the dumbest person alive. “Oh my god, Logan. It’s not like this is some one-sided crush. The dude only has eyes for you, calls you ‘Angel,’ and everyone can tell it’s you he’s into.”

Logan’s cheeks turn pink, but he can’t help but grin. “Really?”

“‘Really?’ Yes, really,” Alex repeats, mimicking Logan’s voice and throwing in an exaggerated dramatic sigh.

Logan grabs a pillow and whacks Alex with it, making him yelp. “Hey! It’s hard having a crush on someone so sexy, okay?”

Oscar, lying back with a smirk, casually adds, “Logs, you’re sexy too. Max is just… manly sexy, while you’re more twink sexy. But trust me, you’re both equally hot.”

Logan groans, burying his face in the pillow. “You guys are impossible.” After a beat, his muffled voice comes out. “Alex! I knew you joining us would bring some juicy insider info.”

Alex smirks, sitting up with a mock salute. “Of course. I’m your personal whistleblower when it comes to your loverboy, Logie.”

“Now that’s settled,” Oscar cuts in, fluttering his eyelashes. “Can you please bake us cookies while we pick movies to marathon?”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Oscar. But what’s wrong with your eyes? Need some eye drops?”

“What? No! My eyes are fine—I’m just batting my lashes to convince you,” Oscar says, deadpan.

Logan snickers. “Ohhh, well, you were doing it too fast to call it batting eyelashes. More like machine-gunning your eyes.”

Oscar shoots him a flat look. “Go make those cookies before I bring out an actual machine gun. Grandpa needs fuel.” He pats Alex’s stomach for emphasis.

Logan huffs playfully as he stands up. “Jeez, I’d hate to be the one taking care of you in a senior home.”

Oscar’s laughter follows Logan as he heads toward the kitchen. “Good luck, Logie! And don’t forget the rainbow chocolate chips. We can’t have Alex turning into Grandpa Rambo!”

From the kitchen, Logan’s muffled voice calls back, “That’s not even what Alex likes—it’s what you like, Oscar!”

Authors Note: I was stuck on how to continue this after the lake and suddenly school and work got super busy. but I realized I've been stuck for too long. So, here is a short little part before the next one!

Also also Max is now a 4 time WDC go king goooo

[blueteller]

Top 10 TCF Fanfics Formats

So, as far as I can tell, if you're looking up TCF fics on AO3, at least 90% of what you see will be one (or more) of these formats:

Reaction Fic ("In an Instant" fic alikes: all sorts of "divine intervention" and "watching the show" setups)

Where Cale is Not Cale (usually: KRS transmigrates as another character. Most commonly: Twin Cales AU.)

TCF Except Slightly AU (sometimes because of a ship, but generally a straight-up canon retelling with changed details)

Shipping "Ahoy!" (I don't read those, but I've seen Alberu/Cale & Choi Han/Cale tags a lot. I can roughly imagine.)

Angst Fest Under Magnifying Glass (mostly based on the colorful collection of Cale or OG Cale's traumas, but often exaggerates them to make them EXTRA depressing and basically AU)

Dimension Travel (kinda similar to reaction fic premise, except Cale and sometimes others literally appear in the TBOAH dimension)

Crossovers (usually ORV, mostly Cale ends up in a crossover and... is being Cale, but nothing status-quo breaking happens most of the time?)

Romance Game and/or High School AU (for some reason...? Usually Cale-centric, but not always)

Something Weird Happens To Cale (usually de-aging scenarios, curses & transformations)

Various one-shots (mostly Gen small what-if or canon compliant scenarios)

I'll be perfectly honest - I'm guilty of mostly writing that kind of stuff as well. I covered a lot of different fics within those categories, so it might seem unfair. But... TCF fandom can use a little bit more variety, don't you guys think?

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 08

PREVIOUS

FF knows that it might be possible to get a new flight and that the excuse of “Oh I found a flight so I could go spend the holiday with my Gran” would probably be unassailable even tot he great unknown of Andrew Minyard’s displeasure (FF has not yet figured out when the pin will drop and Andrew will come at him. The man is a stone wall but FF knows that Andrew doesn’t like him and that knowledge is confirmed every time Andrew and Captain Neil come into Nicky’s dorm and find FF there hanging out with Nicky and he sees both Andrew and Captain Neil frown at him.)

It’s just that it takes 7-10 business days for him to build up the nerve to have to call someone and deal with customer service and it would take more bravery than he currently has to press forward and actually get a flight that would WORK. He has a very limited window for when he can get to Washington. HIs Gran had called a friend to borrow a car to pick him up and that was only available during a 6 hour window on his arrival date.

He COULD get a taxi to his Gran’s house but… (“What if I get kidnapped, what if I get trafficked, how do I tell a normal taxi from a taxi that will take me to a place where I’ll wake up in an ice bath and down a kidney, what if the taxi driver doesn’t like me, what if the taxi driver wants to talk, I don’t have anything interesting to say! What if he says mean things about me in his native language on the phone and I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s SAYING?)… he’d probably die during the hour long ride from the anxiety.

He tells his Gran and she promises to get a pie out to him A.S.A.P.

It almost makes him feel better until he remembers what he had agreed to when Andrew came at him at his WEAKEST MOMENT to get him to agree to spend an entire four days at the house in Columbia he has HEARD stories about.

FF, laying face down on the floor in Nicky’s dorm as Nicky pats his back: Nicky next time you see me about to agree to something that will result in me getting killed I NEED you to run up and just punch me in the jaw. I’m begging you. You know I’m a disaster.

Nicky thinking about how Andrew has gotten weirdly protective of FF since the whole step brother incident: I need you to understand that that will result in ME being killed which I am not a big fan of.

FF misunderstanding: My grandma’s not THAT strong Nicky. At most grandmothers from across the country will frown disapprovingly at you.

Nicky thinking about all the little old ladies who dote on FF for inexplicable reasons and how some of them know he’s FF’s friend and give Nicky the grandma experience he had lacked growing up: Somehow that’s even worse than what I was thinking :(

***

Nicky coming to check on FF hours later: Are…are you watching the Saw movies?

FF taking copious notes: I need to prepare myself to survive Columbia. Do you have a basement or will Andrew be moving me to a secondary location?

Nicky walking over and shutting off the TV: I think it’s time to go to bed champ.

FF: If I don’t sleep then Andrew can’t drag me to a secondary location. I bought a 20 pack of five hour energy because that is the most the CVS would sell me.

Nicky: They cut you off??

FF: Yeah the manager there said he’d sell it as a ‘favor’ to a ‘loyal customer’ but to destroy my receipt and I had to buy in cash in case I die from a heart attack so it’s not linked to them. So if I play my cards right I have around 4 days of energy right here. I have looked up all the foods that can make you sleepy and will be avoiding them to stack the deck.

Nicky guiding FF towards his bedroom: Y’know that includes turkey. Also those five hour energy shots will be murder on your tummy. :(

FF: I am willing to make some sacrifices so I can live to see 19 Nicky. Also I figure I can just drink an entire bottle of Pepto per bottle of five hour energy resulting in a net neutral situation in my stomach.

Nicky tucking FF into bed carefully: Or result in you going to the hospital for an overdose get some sleep Smith. Andrew is not planning on killing you.

FF already falling asleep because his stress energy is running out: You have no idea how much he dislikes me and how much pepto my body can handle but you’re right about going to sleep. I’ll need my strength to power through the reverse bear trap let alone a laser collar.

***

2 of Grandma Smith’s apple pies arrive in the early afternoon of Thanksgiving via a little old lady turning up at Abby’s house who is a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of Grandma Smith. The Foxes take a moment to marvel that somehow it is still warm despite apparently having been Granny expressed across the country despite the storm.

The delivering old lady pinches FF’s cheek and says not to be too disheartened and that his Grandma loves him and will see him for Christmas Break for SURE. She hands him a little note his Gran sent with the pies and he pointedly does not read it there.

This would make FF happy if he hadn’t been swearing up down left and right that he didn’t TALK to his grandma to Andrew whose eyes he can FEEL on him.

He manages a “THANKS.” In a perfectly normal tone. He has no memory that he already told Andrew and Captain Neil that he was spending the holiday with his grandma since he had blue screened at the offer last time and had rebooted in safe mode to power walk away from the situation.

“Your grandma is really nice.” Captain Neil says. “Those pies look good.”

FF, his anxiety momentarily overridden by a soul-deep love for his grandma, “My gran is the BEST and so are her pies.” And then he hears what he has said and walks back into Abby’s house to set out one pie for everyone else and goes and stress eats the second one on the living room couch after he promised Abby he’d clean up any mess.

He wonders if he’ll make it to Christmas Break as he sees Kevin Day staring at him in abject horror while Andrew stares straight at him.

Even with the attention on him he decides to check the note the other granny had given him from his Gran. It is in her native polish so he feels his shoulders relax since no one would be able to read it.

‘For my little Chicken, this isn’t your last meal like you texted me. I know you will be fine. I am thankful for you in my life every day.’

He tucks the note in his pocket and feels a little better.

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos

[soultek]

Late To The Party - Roronoa Zoro x Female!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

💚As it's a certain someone's birthday today!💚

A/N: I feel literally late to the party myself with this - but there we are!

Also not the Zoro I ever expected to be writing for but I was just too inspired NOT to go for it!

100% inspired by 'Dance With Me?' by @alotofrandomfangirling. I read that fic, listened to this song and was like "Oh it's all fits nicely!" and then kinda ran with it! [BTW - you should OBVIOUSLY go and read her fic!]

Ahh... and also, for getting me through all this OPLA fangirling @alotofrandomfangirling this one is also 100% for you! 😁❤

Disclaimer: As usual, nothing except the reader character is mine (loosely based on my OG anime counterpart character Zoro!SO) I tried to keep him as close to his OPLA self as possible but I can't promise I didn't let a bit of his anime personality slip in but I have read this back so many times now I'm like 99.9% he's LA accurate!

Warnings etc: Drinking, mention of injury/scars, super mild cursing, established (secret?) relationship.

Premise: With a party happening in the port you happen to be calling in, you and the crew take the opportunity to be social. Zoro takes it as an opportunity to drink, but maybe that isn't the only reason he's going...

Words: 6325

Song Inspo: Late To The Party - Kasey Musgraves

---

By the time we get there Everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables And the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good But we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm Late to the party with you Let's promise when we get in That we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations Make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into Who's leaving here with who? But I just want 'em all to see me come in...

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd When you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party If I'm late to the party with you

---

Nothing was right. Every outfit you tried just ended up with a sighed 'No.', before being thrown in the corner. Everything else was done – hair and makeup went perfect; you were maybe even quick with those. But this... This was taking the time. Sure, you probably could throw on any old thing and get away with it - this wasn't some fancy dinner, or anything you had to look good for. Just a port with a party. But that was the point - it was a party. It was a chance to be sociable, dress up for a change. It was your thing. And you were late.

Snapping you from your thoughts with a jump, was a loud pounding on the door behind you. It was almost accompanied by a shriek, but luckily you saved yourself the embarrassment of that. Whipping around, you could feel your heart beating a million miles an hour - you didn't realise any of the crew were still here.

"Y/N! What the hell is taking you so long!?" Your eyes widened to the voice; now you were doubly glad you hadn't screamed. Opening the door ajar, you poked your head out and were faced with the unimpressed look of the crew’s resident green-haired swordsman. On second thought that was just his natural expression. You opened the door a little wider, halfway between asking a question and looking around to answer it yourself - was everyone else still here? Evidently, he wasn't done ridiculing you; "What the hell!? You're not even changed!? Even I got changed!" Your eyes focused back on him... Well, he wasn't wrong. He had changed his shirt. You indicated to the pile of clothes strewn on the floor, "Well I didn't know what to wear!" Now you were talking to Zoro, you might as well ask; "Wait, is everyone still here!?" His hands went to his pockets as he shuffled a little on his feet, eyes moving from yours, "No, but I said I wasn't leaving without you, now hurry up!" "…Hurry up!?" You folded your arms, eyes narrowed. You'd known him long enough to be able to read him pretty well, "Zoro, I bet you don’t even want to go!" He copied your crossed arm stance, "Maybe it's not my scene but if it’s a party, there’s alcohol." You couldn't help but roll your eyes, 'good lord.' Resisting shaking your head you turned your full attention back to him, glancing head to toe; "You’re going with your swords? Really?" Zoro was as defensive as you expected, "You never know what’ll happen." That seemed typically him. "Well…" You turned back to your clothes with a smile, finally deciding on something that would complement what he was wearing, "you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take mine." "Annnnnd that’s why I’m the better swordsman." You glanced back over your shoulder to shoot him a look. Despite how nonchalantly he'd declared it, the tiny smirk on his face said everything. “I am but a humble student, you’re supposed to be better than me.” He laughed, short, more like a bark; “Humble is the word you’d use, huh!? Interesting…” You turned your body fully back to him, hands on your hips. "Why would you even think I would debate-" You cut yourself short, realising that somehow Zoro was managing to stall time even more. So much for hurrying you up. "HEY! Will you get out of here and let me change!"

Sensing he was clearly enthusiastic; you gave him 15 more minutes before you headed back out on deck. He was standing with his hands in his pockets again, ankles crossed over each other as he leaned back on the railing. Glancing you up and down he gave a single simple nod. This was Zoro, so that was a complement and you would take it. There was silence between you for a moment, but the sound of a party was in the air. It was loud, it sounded busy. Exactly the kind of thing you liked. Exactly the reason it had taken you so long to get ready in the first place. And he knew that. The man in front of you however…

Zoro walked forward a couple of steps, slowly, looking around as if on high alert. He stopped not even a foot from you, brown eyes focusing back on yours. His voice was flat, but it was a distinct tease. "You know, a lookout not on deck is no good." You could have seen it coming from a mile off, but there was something about him that made you rise to it anyway. "Looking out for what?! We’re docked! You seem to believe you’re doing a better job, and you were still here.” He indicated to himself, "First mate. Lookout is not in my official job title." He was going to drive you insane. Your breath was deep but you held back the ‘my god, how did I end up with you!?' - for both ways he could take it and neither ending up in your favour. Instead, you cleared your throat and threw your hand in the direction of the port, “Can we just go please - if you’re so eager?! You did just rush me.” Zoro shuffled on his feet a bit more before he decided to respond with, “Fine.” That did not mean that he moved very fast at all, and you shook your head slowly, following him. Apparently, the draw of alcohol wasn't even doing it tonight. You did wonder sometimes, you really did…

Once you got down the gangplank, Zoro turned immediately left. You glanced to your right; exactly where all the light and sound was coming from. God help you now... You raised your eyes to the sky; 'idiot.' Instead of saying anything, you simply reached out and took his hand. Seemed like a natural enough thing to do... He was fine with it within the confines of a room training. Touch was okay there. But in public, you couldn't be sure. Not even on a currently deserted dock. But Zoro didn't jerk away, and even when he walked far enough for his arm to pull back when you weren’t moving, he didn't drop it. Turning back to you, standing rooted in place, staring at him. Your arm stretched as far as it would go with his doing the same, hands still together. You tipped your head in the opposite direction. Once again, not a word passed your lips. His eyes moved around you to the port, but he barely acknowledged it before walking back to you, and then in step. You let him dictate the pace - still super slow.

Zoro cleared his throat, deciding that he would comment on the situation. "I knew that, I was just taking the scenic route." You declined to comment that the scenic route was about to lead Zoro off the end of the pier. There was humour in your voice, “Every route with you is the scenic route…” You wouldn't say you struck a nerve, but there was something sharp in his voice. “What are you trying to insinuate?!” You opted to just shake your head again, amusement obvious on your features; even if it was clear, you were saying something. Zoro narrowed his eyes at you, keeping them on your face to wait for you to break. Unfortunately for you, it didn't take long to start giggling. Composing yourself a little, you came up with a decent excuse. “Hey, look, I just don’t want to lose you. It’s pretty busy.”

To your earlier point, the dock around you was dead, but the direction you were heading in seemed overly crowded. Zoro, still focused on the surrounding area, was halfway through raising an eyebrow to correct you - when he realised the joke. “HA. Lose.” Again, you said nothing, maintaining innocence. If that was the conclusion he wanted to jump to - correct or otherwise. For a minute or so you thought you'd get away with it, until you found your left hip bumped by not just one, but all three of his swords - which caught across your ankle for good measure, so his timing must have been impeccable. You paused your walk for a moment, looking across to him, clearly unimpressed. Rubbing your side with your free hand. Zoro merely shrugged, voice once again level. "Sorry." His first thought had really been to muss your hair or something, but that would have meant dropping your hand, and he really didn't want to let that go. It was also the perfect excuse when his swords were between you. In honesty you thought you probably did deserve some retaliation. "Maybe you should walk on the other side of me." "Not exactly my first thought, swordsman." Maybe you would have held his hand otherwise, but this had started practically... Now it was turning more romantic. Even if the words weren't. "If you had yours that wouldn't happen." "If I had mine things would be worse - probably for me." Considering you wore yours on your left hip you probably would have had to walk on his other side... "Yeah, that’s you up against me.” (It didn’t cross your mind he would be talking about anything except sword fighting until later.) “What!? I can’t believe you’d-” What did that have to do with anything!? “Name one time you’ve ever beaten me….” You remained silent. “Exactly.” Something within you felt determined to get him back for that comment - such had your friendship always been before it had become a relationship. “You know when I said that I bet what happened with Mihawk was awful for you and I was sorry you had to go through it?” Zoro almost smirked following your train of thought, “What? Not exactly feeling that right now?” The smile you gave him in response was crooked, “Yeaaah…”

So, his only option was to one up you, “Okay, well, next time how about I just put my sword through you instead of just barely grazing you. The AUDACITY!? This time he raised a gasp from you. You turned to retaliate, but funnily enough at the exact same time you gripped his hand a little tighter - this was play fighting. “Just barely—!? You call this just barely grazing!? I damn well needed stitches! It’s going to leave a mark!” Zoro listened, body half turned into yours, but he wasn't looking at you, continuing to stare in the direction you were walking. He simply indicated to his chest; 'really!?'. You knew you had no option but to drop it then - because fair enough. But there was still a deep cut across your left shoulder blade that he had left there. Instead, you sighed gently, turning back to the lights glittering off the water, everything was getting steadily louder as you got ever closer. You smiled again, “It’s okay. I know I’m the 5th wheel here…” Zoro frowned momentarily at your math; mentally counting the crew, before he realised you were talking about his swords. He shook his head in response, lacing his fingers with yours.

You weren’t quite sure how this had happened in the first place. It also wasn't meant to be like you were sneaking around behind the crew’s backs, you just weren't ready to be out in the open yet. You'd both been bounty hunters; Zoro mostly worked alone but very occasionally you had worked together. Had a couple of other good bounty hunting buddies too – and the four of you were a decent team. It hadn't taken long for you to develop a crush on him - and as a swordswoman yourself you were in awe of his skills. It was something you only ever strived to get better at. You'd pushed that crush back a long time ago in favour of friendship - after all, unless you were going to team up permanently (not his thing.) there was not much point in getting serious about it. Added to that, Zoro never at all seemed interested in romance. You had been content to just keep seeing him around. That was until rumours started flying around the community that the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was now a pirate himself. Had joined a crew and everything. At first you had simply laughed it off as ridiculous. That must have been some other guy calling himself 'Roronoa Zoro' because there was no way in hell the man you knew was going to do that. How wrong you were, sufficiently curious to follow the rumours along until you both ended up on the same island. And sure enough there he was - with a crew calling themselves the Straw Hats. A crew you now found yourself a part of, having practically begged him to teach you after he'd kicked your ass yet again. (Like you weren't about to miss a bounty hunting opportunity - even if it was him.) Now you were, as you had pointed out to him earlier, a humble student.

The relationship element was new. You knew you weren't sure who or what started it, but it happened and it just felt like a good natural progression. Neither of you were really pushing that relationship aspect currently. You were close for sure, and you always kept close. ALL the time. (And if anyone on the crew was suspicious, they didn't call it out.) You held hands after training... When you were alone. It never progressed much further than that. Passed a confession and the agreement that you were, indeed, a couple.

Yet here you were, Zoro was not protesting holding your hand on the way to the party. And hadn't he just been the one to link your fingers in this way? That hadn't been you.

Stepping up from the dock onto the port side you were both bathed in light. It went from just the two of you to apparently everyone else in the world who had descended on the little town. You weren’t sure where to look – there was so much to take in. The bustle of the people – of all ages – was secondary to the bright colours all around. Shops, restaurants, bars, and their patrons spilled out onto the streets – covered in bright neon decorations and constantly glittering lights. In the central square ahead of you, music played from an elevated platform; even from here neither of you could tell if it was a live band playing or simply amplified through a sound system, only that the gathering of people around it were dancing. All down either street was a collection of booths selling various foods, drinks, wears and even offering games to play, each one looking as busy as the next and all dressed in the same bright colours as the permanent stores. Happy voices called out to each other: both friends and merchant alike. It was more like a festival than a party and you wondered quietly if that was actually what you had stumbled upon. There was so much to see and do, standing up on the street you almost weren’t sure what to give your attention to first: but you knew it was going to be a fun evening. Zoro could feel the energy from the party hit you instantly; if he didn’t know any better, he would say you were vibrating – you had an entirely different buzz about you than you had 2 seconds ago walking with him down here. He could feel it all through your connected hands, see it in the way your eyes were almost sparkling (though, that could have been the reflection of the lights). This was your domain; you were as in your element here as he was with three swords.

Zoro instinctively pulled you closer - if you didn't want to lose him in the crowd this was the only way. "You know where they are?" "In case you didn't notice - which you did - I wasn't the one looking out for them!" "Right... Stay close. Don't let go." He pulled you forward, and tonight you decided you would just trust him with directions. The 'don't let go' hit different though; if he was going to drop your hand at any point it would be now - not only in a very public place, but the chance of any of the crew happening upon you at any second. You almost wondered aloud if it might have been due to him spending his time waiting for you drinking; loosening up a bit. It would have made sense, but it didn't seem like it. Zoro was going to the party for alcohol. If he had it on him back at the ship, why would he bother? Unless...

You were snapped from that thought by suddenly being pulled in another direction. Finding yourself steered towards a building labelled 'Bar.' Figures he'd be able to find that with no issue. You continued scanning the crowds; the crew must have been around, but also at this point were long gone to you. And Zoro was clearly interested in drinking, pushing the door open with the most enthusiasm you'd seen out of him all night. But he wasn't just holding your hand for the sake of holding it. He knew men. You had dressed up for this because you had a social side. If he didn't clearly indicate who you were with, you were as likely to end up in trouble as anything. Another reason to keep those swords on hand; if anyone dared try anything he was sending clear signals. In the bar the crowds were even more dense, and you moved closer to him, free hand coming across your body to touch his arm; if you were going to hold his hand any tighter it might actually hurt. Still, Zoro couldn't help his little smile. You scanned the gathering more, swallowing hard at the realisation of how many eyes were suddenly on you. Drawn not just to yourselves, but also more closely to the points of connection between you and your entwined fingers. Your gaze flicked back to him, still solely focused on leading you to the bar - if Zoro had noticed this attention, he paid it no mind. You almost envied that. You were very aware of how gorgeous he was - you weren’t blind! You were unlikely to be the first or only girl to ever have fallen for this man. You were just the lucky one that had him…. Somehow! If you were any other girl in this room, you'd be jealous, too.

After what felt like an age, you finally made it to the edge of the bar. He brought your twined fingers up to it, unlinking your hands but keeping them close, leaning forward to try to find the barkeep. At this point the aged wood was littered with empty glasses and bottles. You hoped for the sake of your partner the whole bar wasn't already dry. Without even asking you were both presented with a beer, "Ahh! What can I get the lovely young couple then, eh? First one is on the house!" Zoro was clearly irked by the descriptor - but got straight to the point, "What have you got? Bottle of your best...?" He waited for the suggestion. "Well, uh, I'll have to see, sir! I would expect most things are out by now, but I'm sure I can find something." "Okay. Then," Zoro's sigh was deep, like he was trying not to think about it being the only reason he came down here. "I'll have a bottle of whatever you have left!" He turned to you, look pointed, "Clearly, we are late to the party."

You were about to commend him on just the one - realising suddenly you were going to quickly become the 6th wheel in this relationship to alcohol - when you were interrupted by the overly loud calls of your captain. "HEEEYYY!! ZORO! Y/N!!!" You barely had time to turn before Luffy was throwing his arms around you and pulling you together in a three-way hug, "Where did you go!? We were worried about you guys!" "Ah, blame her. She takes too long!" You punched Zoro's arm playfully, but you returned your hand to resting next to his on the bar. Luffy said nothing - likely oblivious as ever; but you could bet if one person in the crew didn't care, it would be him. Luffy grinned, "Well it doesn't matter! You're both here now! Ahh you gotta try the food, it's so good!" You turned back to the busy room, watching everyone else laughing and joking together. Luffy and Zoro followed your eyeline. Zoro's hand brushed against yours for your attention before he nudged you, "Go on." "W-what about you!?" You whipped back, a little too quick to protest. Luffy looked between you. "I'll be fine here. Besides, I can keep an eye on you from the bar. That's what you want to be here for, go have fun." Fun definitely didn't seem like the word Zoro would use, but this wasn't about him. It was about you. You looked to the bottle of beer you'd been given and pushed it towards him, "Here, just in case they can't find you anything else. I think you need it more than me!" Turning to Luffy you smiled sweetly, rubbing his shoulder, "Look after him for me!" "I will do!" Luffy grinned, Zoro just shook his head. But you knew he had everything he needed right there. You let your eyes linger on his and focused on that touch for just a moment longer, before you slipped from under the arm of your captain and went to make yourself sociable with the other crew and townsfolk. Surely Usopp, Nami and Sanji were in here somewhere... Glancing back over your shoulder you watched Luffy take your place, chatting excitedly to his first mate. He had Zoro's full attention; it made your laugh to yourself. You were going to end up so many wheels back you might as well have not been in this relationship...!

You were social, it was one of your greatest strengths. It was easy to make friends. It made it easy to get information. That was how you used to do your bounty hunting. You could talk to anyone and everyone easily. You liked listening to people's life stories - hearing about all the places they were visiting. The islands you’d landed on; about what there was to do in the area, even if you never went yourself. You liked talking about the tiny East Blue island you'd grown up on. You had enough stories from sailing across the East Blue yourself. And you could twist the crews’ stories into something a little less... Pirate-y. You always enjoyed it, you always had fun. If someone asked you to dance, you would. If someone wanted to drink with you, you were down. Tonight... Tonight you realised that even in your element, you were not having fun. Not as much fun as you wanted. Not alone.

You hadn't thought about it before. Hadn't considered when you were getting ready that it would ever be the case. You expected to have a good time with the crew - your relationship and anything that might happen with it tonight was an added bonus to something you loved doing. But in the middle of the conversation, you couldn't help realising how much you didn't want to be there. At least... Not in the company of these people.

You looked back over your shoulder to the bar, and were almost surprised to see not only was Zoro alone once more (you would have put money on either Luffy dragging him along, or Luffy dragging everyone else over to him), but he was staring at you. Clearly, he wasn't going to take his eyes off you tonight. When Zoro said he was keeping an eye on you he meant it. And maybe he’d never say it out loud, but with you looking like this, that wasn’t the only reason. The two bottles besides him were finished. But whatever the bar man had managed to find him was unopened. He turned slowly to it, before wrapping his fingers around the neck and dragging it off the bar. Gesturing with it towards you, before tipping his head back towards the ship. You smiled, and suddenly it was the happiest you had felt all evening. In that moment you knew exactly where you wanted to be. And tonight, where you would rather find yourself.

He met you by the door as you politely excused yourself from the conversation, this time taking his other hand and making sure to walk on his left. The knowing smile on Zoro's face indicated he knew you were learning. A tiny piece of your felt bad, as he opened the door back into the night air - the crowd was a little thinner, but the party was still in full swing. It felt like you were bailing, you'd been late and you were leaving almost immediately. But it wasn't as if people could say you hadn't turned up. Luffy at the very least had seen both of you there. But there was something inside you that stirred in excitement at the thought of sneaking back to the Merry with a bottle...

If you had gone at a snail’s pace to get here, you practically ran back. Or you would have thought you had, considering how giggly and breathless you were, despite not having drunk at all tonight. Yet. With the bottle in his hand that was clearly going to change. Zoro removed his sword belt, propping them up against the wooden railing of the ship, before blowing out a breath and settling beside them; back up against a pillar, he stretched his legs out in front of him, placing the bottle between them. You shook your head, sitting yourself down in front of him with a grin. At least out here it was quiet, the air was cooler. Zoro closed his eyes for a moment, tipping his head back; allowing you to trace the lines of his face. His jaw and down his neck, up over his broad shoulders and down his toned arms, to his fingers. You thought for a moment about the skilful way he could un- and re-sheath his swords. How any just-so movement with his fingers would move those blades to make perfect strikes. You hadn't been present for the fight with Mihawk that had made the scar across his chest. That was a little too much to think about, but the shirt you were coordinating with tonight exposed enough of his chest for a part of it to be visible... But you still couldn't imagine Zoro losing. Even when you could imagine just how incredible the 'World’s Greatest Swordsman' was.

You bit your lip, thinking about your earlier jab, and suddenly felt terrible. "Hey, Zoro..." "Mhm..." He initially kept his eyes closed and head tipped back, but when you didn't continue, he changed his position to look at you. With your eyes and expression a little guilt ridden; he couldn't help tipping his head in confusion. You took a breath, and although it seemed like you wanted to look away from him, you didn't: "What I said earlier about the Mihawk fight... You know I didn’t mean it, right?” Zoro almost chuckled - that was debatable. But he had known you was joking with him. "Y/N, you worry too much." "But I still-" "Of course, I do." It's what you wanted to hear - so he would satisfy that. You sat back on your hands with a smile, this time voice a little sweeter; "And what I said about being with you being scenic… you know I did mean it, right?” You had realised the hilarity of saying every route with him was the scenic one, and that depending on how you'd said it, how it could have been either a sarcastic tease on his sense of direction or a very smooth romantic flirt. Internally you'd kicked yourself for not realising sooner and now - despite it being obvious at the time which you were going for - you wondered which way he’d actually taken it… Zoro cracked a grin, clearly he'd noticed it too. “Oh. You mean I am the view.” Even though, by the look on his face, you knew Zoro understood you hadn’t meant it that way. Yet, you couldn't help but blush a little, “Glad we could agree.” “That would be a first…” You were compelled; you leaned forward and smacked his leg. It was likely always going to be a knee-jerk reaction to his teasing. That just made him chuckle, and he picked up the bottle again, cracking it open. "Should I get some glasses?" "Glasses?" Zoro scoffed, "Hell no. Now c'mere." He beckoned you forwards.

You couldn't help being intrigued, but as you moved to the side of him, Zoro grabbed your waist, pulling you to sit between his legs. For a minute you struggled, both shrieking and laughing, pushing against him enough that he had to physically hold you in place. You relented, giggles still rising in your chest as his arms wound around your waist. Head propped back against his chest you looked up at him. "Okay fine, you win!" "I'll just chalk yet another one up." "Ah, keep them, I'm never beating you." "Wow." He smirked again, "Did we just agree on two things? Careful, Y/N, we might be on a roll!" You nudged his face with your palm, "Hush!" Causing Zoro to grab your hand and interlink your fingers again. The movement caused his piercings to run together, making them chime softly. You focused on them dancing for a moment, unable to help yourself from reaching out and making the gold ring together again. Zoro simply shook his head at you, picking up the bottle he'd just opened (and somehow in all that hadn't spilled everywhere.) and taking a sip. "Whatever helps you amuse yourself." "One per sword?" "I'm not even answering that." "Hey, it's a valid question!" After all, you had a multitude of piercings in both your ears and didn't carry nearly that many weapons. He ignored you, holding the bottle out. You accepted it gratefully and read the label; "Any good?" "It's alcohol, even the bad stuff is good." "Yeah, no," you sighed, "that sounds like you." You took a drink and concluded that this one was indeed, pretty good. Taking another sip, he smacked the top of your thigh, "Hey! No drinking the whole bottle, I waited too long to get that one!" You almost choked, "And you won't get any if you make me spill the damn thing!" "You do that, I'll be throwing you overboard and telling the crew you elected to stay in town." "Thing is I wouldn't put it past you..." You handed the bottle back to Zoro, making yourself comfortable against his body, "I'm just saying a good boyfriend wouldn't do that." You heard Zoro huff a laugh as he lifted the bottle to his lips again, "Ah, I never promised to be one of those." "What? A good boyfriend?" "That's the one." "Well. A girl can dream." "That's all you'll be doing." You let out a laugh then, a full-blown belly laugh. "I know you're determined to ruin this, but you can't. It's not happening. This is exactly what I wanted." "Me?" But he left it there, fingers of the hand not holding the bottle finding yours again.

You sat in silence for a moment, the only sound your breathing and the back and forth of the liquid in the bottle every time he took a drink. Further back, the dull hum of the party, and the waves lapping at the side of the Merry. Inspecting the bottle once more Zoro realised it was nearly empty. Looking down at you in his arms he realised your eyes were closed. "Hey..." He tried softly, so not to wake you if you were asleep. "Mmm?" Your response let him know that even if you weren’t, you weren’t far off. "You want any more of this?" "Oh, no." You shuffled a little more, head moving to his shoulder, opening more of your body to the warmth of his, Zoro found himself pulling his legs in closer to aid you with this. "It's yours. You said it yourself; it was hard to come by. And I know it was the only reason you were going anywhere near the party." He stared at you for a moment, and then between you and the bottle. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his next soft smile. "Well, maybe it wasn't the only reason." You didn't respond, but he saw the smile on your face grow.

By the time he'd finished the drink you were asleep, and even when he moved himself to get a little more comfortable - careful with you still in his arms - you didn't wake. He'd have to be vigilant, glancing to his swords... Just in case anyone did think they were about to come on here and try to mess with you, or the ship. Come to think of it, where were yours...? ‘Ah forget it, I could handle it myself.’ He looked back down to you, peaceful. Pressed up against him, Zoro suddenly noticed how warm you were. How the air had a distinct chill to it the later into the night it became. (Heck, maybe it was early morning now. But there was no way of knowing - especially with none of your crewmates around.) Delicately he brushed some of your hair out of your face, before pressing his lips fleetingly to your forehead. Closing his eyes, he propped his head on top of yours, position of his body protective to your smaller form. He almost laughed to himself - when the hell did something like this happen? "Goodnight, Y/N..." * * *

It was not the scene the crew expected to return to, that was for sure. Looking between each other and trying to determine who might have had any indication that you were in any way a “thing.” Clearly, you and Zoro had been just that good at keeping it under wraps. Not that it mattered much now; nothing could have been more obvious! “What. The. Hell!?” Sanji was the first one to gain anything near composure enough to talk - although not composure in general. Nami and Usopp had to move quickly to hold him back; “I’m going to KILL that moss-head!” “Sanji! No! Wait!!”

Nami internally cursed herself for not being the first one on the ship. If she had been, she could have kept the rest of them away and would have had pretty good ammo for blackmailing you both for Berri. Ah well, no good thinking too much on that now. “I, for one, think it’s sweet.” Sanji scoffed. “Maybe she’ll lighten him up a little! God knows he needs that. Always so damn serious! And unsociable! I would welcome that change.” “Not with her though!” Sanji made another noise of discontent, making Nami sigh. As if Sanji would be fine with Zoro being with any other woman – on this crew or otherwise? She looked back to the scene; cuddled up together and sleeping soundly. It was late - maybe even early - and the air was much cooler than it had been before, rolling in from the sea. “Can one of you get a blanket? Last thing we need is either of them catching a cold!” Luffy - who had just been staring at you up until now, trying to add it all up in his head; it would explain how close you were at the bar but also… - suddenly sprang into life: “I’LL DO IT!” Nami grabbed him, clamping her hand over his mouth, “Stop yelling you idiot! You’ll wake them up!” Sanji actually thought that was a great idea - but he wasn’t exactly the person who was going to go against Nami’s wishes.

Luffy’s version of quiet was more of a shouted whisper, and he sounded out his words in their syllables for emphasis. “Sorry. I’ll get it!” Nami placed her hand against her forehead watching him walk off in big slow steps - she truly was surrounded by idiots. It was a good thing she loved them.

By the time he came back, she’d managed to successfully move Usopp and Sanji on. And once he handed her what she’d asked for, she began ushering Luffy away (which, considering him, ended up only being a few feet further back.) Rolling her eyes, Nami sighed again, unfurling the blanket, and throwing it carefully over you both. She tucked it as much as she thought she’d get away with before it woke you up and stood back admiring her handy work.

Luffy looked between you and her, “Soooo… will they be alright now?!” “I think so…” Nami turned to him, and pushed, “Now will you get out of here and give them some quiet!” “Well, what about you!?” “I’m leaving too! Honestly—!” “Okaaaaay….!!” He protested as if he wasn’t protesting and walked away.

But when Nami turned back, she almost jumped. Zoro’s eyes were open, and he was staring at her. From the expression on his face, she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not. She decided she’d probably rather not enquire. After a little while of unnerving her on purpose, Zoro closed his eyes again. But he spoke, voice quiet. “Thanks, Nami.” She smirked, because this was her chance. He’d just left that door wide open and she wasn’t missing the opportunity. “You’re welcome. But you guys owe me!” He sighed - knew it! - this much more of discontent, “Of course.”

---

One swordsman down, two to go! 😁 💚🖤💛

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 3. - Sunburn

Sunscreen can be sexy

Author's note: This one is a little filthy, I'm sorry!

“Jeez, who ransacked your room, dude?” Oscar asks, letting out a whistle at the sight of Logan’s room.

“Oscar, please. The striped salmon top or my baby blue one? Or should I just wear a tank?” a harried Logan asks, shoving the two options into Oscar’s hands as he digs through a pile on his bed for his tank top.

“Uhhh, both?” Oscar answers unhelpfully, causing Logan to glare up at him. “I mean, if you’re wearing your white boardies, definitely salmon. It really brings out your… uh, nipples?” he finishes awkwardly.

“Seriously? You aren’t even trying. At least say eyes or tan, Oscar. Something normal. This is why people think we’re dating,” Logan says, shaking his head and abandoning his search for the tank to put on the shirt. Looking in the mirror, he begrudgingly accepts that Oscar is right—the salmon striped shirt does suit his tan (not his nipples).

Meanwhile, Oscar shudders, remembering the last time they were mistaken for a couple.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Log. At least tonight you won’t cockblock me. I’m ready to be someone’s pillow princess,” Oscar says with an exaggerated, dreamy sigh for effect.

“Oh yeah? You’ve never seen them, have you?” Logan giggles. “Osc, you’re in for a treat—international ones at that.”

“I better be. It’s been so dry, and if tonight isn’t fruitful, I’m either going to be a born-again virgin or drown myself in that lake, I swear,” Oscar says, pointing at Logan in the mirror.

Swatting Oscar as he turns away from the mirror, Logan says, “Shut up. The only thing you’re going to drown in is your own saliva. Seriously, just wait until you see. Alex is so lucky he’s only bicurious for the homies when he’s sloshed. I don’t know how else he’d handle working around all of them all day.”

Snickering, Oscar replies, “He definitely can’t kiss you tonight, but I’m ready for some homie cuddles and kisses if tonight’s a fail.”

“Always here for some homie cuddles and kisses,” Alex says seriously, hand up in a mock salute as he walks into Logan’s room, mindful of the piles littering the floor.

“Can you please tell Oscar that you work with too many hot people for him to end up in your lap?” Logan pleads with Alex, dashing around as he fills his bag with a change of clothes, towel, and other necessities.

“While my lap is always open to the homies, Osc, there are a couple in there who are definitely your type. I’d be a little more excited,” Alex tells Oscar with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Fine, I’ll be realistically optimistic,” Oscar sighs.

“I—uh, I don’t think that’s quite how it works, but there you go,” Alex responds, a little baffled.

“Anyway, how much are we betting that Logan’s going to pop a boner when he sees big Max all wet? Ooo ahh ,” Oscar asks, pitching his voice high to imitate Logan, even pulling his hands together and making his eyes go wide and sparkly.

“Oh, I kind of bet with the boys on whether Max was going to, so Logan, I need you to really pull through for me. I have $100 riding on it,” Alex says, putting his hands up in a "what can you do" motion.

With his hands on his hips, Logan says, “I don’t know whether to be mad that you’re all betting on us, or happy that you have so much faith in my game.”

Twirling his car keys, Alex smiles cheekily and asks, “So, are we ready to go, guys? Your prince awaits, Angel .” Alex drops his tone in a poor imitation of Max.

Logan smacks his shoulder as he grumbles past him and Oscar with a poorly concealed, “traitors.”

Oscar and Alex laugh as they follow him out. “Wait, Angel , come on! Don’t be like that now,” Oscar yells after him.

—---------------- 

The drive to Danny’s lake house is filled with their endless chatter. Once they arrive, Danny walks out to greet them, arms wide open. “Welcome! Welcome! Mi casa es mi casa!” 

“It’s ‘mi casa es su casa,’ buddy,” Logan quickly quips as he gives Danny a hug.

“I know what I said, Logie-Boy. Oscar! Glad you made it. Ready to represent Australia, brother?” Danny enthusiastically jostles Oscar under his arm. Oscar just looks at Alex and Logan and replies, “Err, sure?”

Danny delivers a warm slap to Oscar's back. “Good enough for me! And our man of the hour, Alex, are you excited for our day out on the water?”

“Yeah, Danny! And you promised me jet skis, remember?” Alex responds, his smile wide with excitement.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Alex. I’ve got you covered.” Danny flashes them all a bright smile. “Now, follow me. The boat’s docked out back; we’re just getting ready to pull out.” He leads them inside through the home’s large oak door.

“If you guys need anything from the fridge or the bathroom, feel free,” Danny says, vaguely gesturing as they walk through the kitchen and make their way to the deck outside.

They greet the other boys along the way, making introductions as they introduce Oscar as well. 

Once the trio reaches the dock, Alex promptly runs into Logan’s back, and Oscar collides with him. Their friend has come to a stop. “I think you should get your money back, Alex,” Logan whispers, eyes wide as he takes in Max in all his shirtless glory, untying one of the ropes. Muscles flexing, with a light sheen of sweat on his body, Max brushes his hair out of his eyes. And heavens above, his head is turning in their direction.

Max lowers his arm as he catches Logan’s gaze, sending a wave their way while his other hand remains occupied with the mooring line. 

Alex claps Logan on the shoulder. “It’s too late, Logie Bear. Just jump in the water when you feel your princess jump to attention. I have faith in you!” He gives Logan another reassuring clap and pushes him down the dock toward the boat.

The boys continue past Max after a brief hello, but Logan stays behind. “Hey, Angel, you ready for the boat today?”

“He-Hi Max, yeah, I uh, think so,” Logan replies, his nerves evident.

Max gives him a once-over, noting his unbuttoned shirt and his tiny white board shorts. His gaze flicks back to Logan’s face. “Did you bring sunscreen, sweetheart?” A trace of concern colouring his voice.

Logan digs through his tote bag until he triumphantly pulls out a bottle of Banana Boat, presenting it eagerly. “Yes! Did you need some?”

“No, Angel, just worried for your pretty little face.” With his free hand, Max’s thumb strokes Logan’s cheek. “Wouldn’t want your pretty face to burn out there.” He tilts his head, his thumb and index finger gently holding Logan’s chin, asking, “Now, would we?”

Logan shakes his head side to side, still holding Max’s gaze. “No.”

From inside the boat, they hear George shout for everyone to board now, directing Max to let the mooring line go. 

They head to its back, Logan looking at the slight jump to get on the cabin cruiser with trepidation. 

“Come on, Angel, I’ll help you up,” is all the warning Logan gets before Max’s hands are on his waist, lifting him from the dock and onto the boat.

“Max!” is all the protest Logan manages before he’s gently placed on the floor of the boat. Looking back, he sees Max's answering grin, followed by his hands on Logan’s shoulders, guiding him further inside.

They greet George at the helm, who stands with his white shirt unbuttoned, wearing navy boardies and a captain’s hat perched on his soft curls, which he tips at Logan in jest.

At Max’s side, Logan giggles at George’s antics.

Max’s hand travels from where it rests on Logan’s shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth as it reaches his waist with a squeeze. Pulling Logan into him, he asks, “Excited, Angel?” His lips brush Logan’s ear with every syllable.

Logan turns to him, their lips inches apart, eyes slightly looking up as he nods in affirmation before asking, “Mmhmm, you?”

Max answers with another squeeze to his waist as he leans against the cabin, pulling Logan between his legs. Both hands now resting lower on Logan’s waist, Max’s eyes locking onto his. “Of course. Are you swimming or just laying back and tanning, pretty?” His thumbs stroke Logan’s hip bones through his shorts.

Logan swallows as he feels Max’s hands overlap on his hips, large enough to wrap around him with ease. 

Logan brings his hands to Max’s bare chest, flattening his palms against the steady beat of his heart. Eyeing the golden brush of hair there, he grins. “Why are you trying to get me wet?” he teases, flicking his gaze back up to Max’s eyes to gauge his reaction.

Max simply squeezes Logan’s hips again, spreading his fingers as they brush the edge of Logan’s shorts. “I don’t know, Angel. Can you blame me?”

Logan’s breath hitches slightly as Max’s fingers toy with the hem of his shorts, their bodies pressed together in the gentle sway of the boat. The air between them feels thick, buzzing with the unspoken tension Logan's trying to ignore for Alex’s sake. But Max's eyes, dark with intent, make it nearly impossible.

"I’m starting to think you can’t help yourself," Logan quips softly, though the slight tremble in his voice betrays his composure. His fingers trace the cross dangling from Max’s neck, pressing it lightly into his chest.

Max chuckles low, the sound vibrating through Logan’s hands. "You might be right," he murmurs, leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touch, the teasing edge of his smile never quite leaving his face. “You’re irresistible, Angel. Wanted you for a while now, and now I can’t help myself.”

Logan’s face flushes, and he feels the warmth spread through him, almost drowning out the cool breeze coming off the water. He bites his bottom lip, his gaze darting away, unsure how much longer he can hold out before closing the distance between them.

Before he can think too much about it, Max’s hand slides up his back, fingers grazing his skin just under his shirt. Logan’s breath hitches again.

“Max,” Logan warns, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max smirks, eyes twinkling, his lips ghosting just shy of Logan’s. “You’re so wound up, Angel.” His hands are so big, Logan feels them branding his skin with their warmth.

Logan’s sharp inhale is cut short by a voice calling out from the helm.

“Oi! Lovebirds, we’re anchored!” George shouts, oblivious to the tension between them as he leans casually against the wheel. “I’m not watching this rom-com unfold all day. Get your butts in the water or I’m leaving without you!”

Logan pulls back quickly, startled, and laughs awkwardly as he breaks free from Max’s grasp. "Guess we should—"

But Max grabs his wrist, pulling him back for a brief moment, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Don’t forget your sunscreen, yeah? I’ll see you, Angel,” he says, voice low and promising, kissing the inside of Logan’s wrist before letting go with a smirk.

Logan swallows hard, feeling his heart race as he stumbles a bit toward the edge of the boat, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Logie bear, there you are!” Alex exclaims as he catches sight of him.

“We’re going on the jet skis first, Log, you wanna ride with one of us?” Oscar asks.

“No, I think I’ll just swim first, but you guys have fun,” Logan says, hoping the flush on his chest has subsided.

“Oh, swim , yes of course. I have faith in you, princess,” Alex teases, lifting a fist in solidarity as his eyes trail down to Logan’s shorts.

“You dic–” Logan isn’t even done swearing at his best friend before he turns swiftly to jump on one of the jet skis.

“It’s okay, Logan, I’ll splash him for you,” Oscar says, patting Logan’s shoulder consolingly. 

Logan spins on him with a grin. “Thanks, Osc. Anyway, wasn’t I right?”

“Yeah, who wa—” Oscar’s cut off as George puts a hand on his shoulder, asking, “Oscar, right? George. Your captain for all intents and purposes,” he introduces with a wink and a hat tilt identical to the one he gave Logan earlier.

Logan looks at his best friend, noticing how Oscar’s ears have gone bright red, cheeks slightly flushed—all tell-tale signs of his attraction.

“Uh, yeah. Th-thanks, Captain,” Oscar stammers. Logan snickers—it's always the British accents that get Oscar.

Not waiting around for George’s response, Logan unbuttons the remaining ones on his shirt and dives headfirst into the crystal-clear water, the coolness rushing over his heated skin.

As he surfaces, shaking the water from his hair, he looks up to see Max leaning over the edge of the boat, eyes fixed on him.

Charles whistles from the deck. “Think you’ve got a fan, little Logan.” His comment is followed by more catcalls from the other guys.

Logan ignores them, letting the water cool his flushed skin, though he can still feel Max’s gaze burning into him.

—--- 

Logan climbs back onto the boat, feeling the lingering coolness of the water and a soft fatigue setting in. Toweling off his hair and body, he spots all the boys whizzing across the horizon on their jet skis. Without much thought, Logan spreads his towel in the sunniest part of the deck and lays down on his stomach, ready for a nap.

He’s drifted off when he feels a gentle hand combing through his damp hair, followed by Max’s concerned voice. “Where’s your sunscreen, Angel? You’re already burning a little.”

Logan opens one eye, too tired from his swim to muster a proper response. He just shrugs and pushes his head deeper into Max’s hand, a silent invitation for him to keep playing with his hair.

Max chuckles softly. “Alright, Angel. You want me to put it on you?”

Logan gives a lazy nod, barely lifting his head. He feels Max’s thumb trace a slow line from the nape of his neck down to the base of his spine, sending a warm shiver through his body. The sensation of Max’s touch, combined with the heat of the sun, lulls him deeper into relaxation.

Max works the sunscreen down Logan’s back with smooth, steady movements, lingering at the base of his spine before moving up again to his neck. He pauses, then gently applies the lotion to the back of Logan’s ears, rubbing it into the soft skin. 

Logan shifts a little but doesn’t open his eyes, a contented sigh escaping him.

Max grins, squeezing more sunscreen onto his fingers. He traces a line down Logan’s nose, carefully smoothing it over the bridge and the tip. Then, he adds a generous amount to Logan’s cheeks, saying, “Can’t forget this,” with a soft chuckle. .

Logan scrunches his nose playfully in response, mumbling, “Tickles.”

Max laughs under his breath, finishing by running a thumb over the tips of Logan’s ears, leaving no spot unprotected. “All set Angel,” he whispers, as Logan drifts further into sleep, his face peaceful in the warm sunlight.

—---

When Logan comes to, there's a gentle hand threading through his hair, and his cheek rests against something solid and warm. Blinking against the sun, he gradually realises he's half-lying in Max’s lap. The steady rise and fall of Max’s breathing is comforting, and Logan can feel the warmth of his thigh beneath him, the rhythmic motion of Max's fingers softly caressing his scalp.

Groggy, Logan shifts slightly, turning his face up to meet Max’s gaze. “How long was I out?” he mumbles, still a bit disoriented.

Max smiles down at him, his other hand resting casually on Logan’s back. “Not too long, Angel. The others are still out on the jet skis.”

As Logan sits up and leans against Max, still in that sleepy haze, Max’s arm naturally slips around his waist, effortlessly guiding him onto his lap. Logan’s back rests comfortably against Max’s chest, and with a stifled yawn, he turns his face into the crook of Max’s neck, his breath warm against Max’s skin.

“Wait, Angel,” Max murmurs, his voice gentle but insistent. “–sunscreen on your front now.”

Logan, still half-asleep, grumbles into Max’s neck, “Who cares?”

Max’s grip tightens slightly around Logan’s waist as he chuckles softly. “I do, Angel. I love it when you flush red for me. How will I see your pretty little blush if you’re burnt?”

Logan, still foggy from his nap, only picks up on Max’s concern. With a sigh, he mutters, “Put it on me then.”

Max kisses his neck and grabs the sunscreen, smoothing it over Logan’s chest and shoulders, taking his time as his hands glide over the soft skin. Logan shivers slightly under the coolness of the lotion, feeling Max’s steady, deliberate touch as it spreads warmth in its wake.

The coolness wakes him up a little, and as he looks down, he sees Max’s long fingers and wide palm smoothing sunscreen over his lower stomach. The visual is enough to send arousal pooling in his navel, intensifying with each pass of Max’s fingers through his happy trail. Soon, Max bends his legs to apply sunscreen over them without needing to unplaster himself from Logan’s back.

Once he’s done, Logan realises just how compromising their position is if anyone were to climb back on board. With his thighs bent on either side of Max’s legs and his chest and head reclined against the older man’s body, it makes Logan’s breath hitch. He instinctively hides his face in Max’s neck.

Max picks up on it, dragging his hands from Logan’s thighs up his side before wrapping his arms around his chest, squeezing, grounding Logan briefly. “What’s wrong, Angel? Too much?” 

Still hiding his face, Logan manages a shake of his head, whispering, “No, m-more, p-please.” The request hangs in the air, making the atmosphere between them thick with unspoken tension.

Chapter 1 - Angel

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

[umgeorge]

george russell gets weighed after qualifying, australia - march 23, 2024 📷 mark avellino / apimages.com

[glucosegaurdian]

I’ve recently been reading ‘The Bizarre Diet Of Marine Captain Koby’ by cynaquill and I’m absolutely stuck on it.

It’s such a good storyline and amazing writing, I absolutely recommend giving it a read if you’re not too squeamish!

tw: blood and gore under the cut and mild fic spoilers

[umlewis]

ickle. wee man. tiny. diminutive. ittle bitty, even., singapore - september 20, 2024 📷 dppi / alamy