#the TA fic

[keferon]

Guys. Hear me out.

Remember when in Cyberverse everyone got their minds transferred into fake artificial digital simulation of an infinite fucking parade while their bodies were imprisoned? Now. Imagine Shockwave trying to pull that kind of move on First aid.

Under the cut:)

First aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not nausea from drugs or weird withdrawals after neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion.

It feels like he's a lab mouse running through a maze.

There's the cheese. There's the electric shocks. There's no way out and never has been.

He thinks it might be the fault of Pharma's new drug. Or his fucking pilot position is finally eating away at him, or Vortex is finally done playing with him and just broke his brain.

There are people running around him, each of whom definitely knows what their place is and where they need to go. Everyone has a purpose and a position and some important job to do. They hardly even talk to each other, just nod and run on.

Amazing synchronization.

First..Felix feels like a kid lost in the mall.

He has. He has to do something, right? What does he need to do? Fuck. What day is today anyway?

He heads over to the schedule board and stares at it like an idiot for a couple minutes. It's Tuesday. The work day is in full swing. All the shifts are here. But he doesn't recognize the names of the employees. All the pilots are accounted for, but his name isn't on their list.

Must be a mistake?

He turns away from the board and looks around the room once more, this time more carefully. He just needs to find someone to ask. Preferably someone familiar.

He can’t recognise anyone.

The feeling of strangeness doesn't get any less.

The uniforms on the people around him are similar. But not the same.

The badges are all another color.

And he's surprised by this, but at the same time some part of his brain tells him that it's all familiar and he's seen it before.

“.... then I thought, we could do something different, you know?”

Felix flinches as Swindle and Onslaught walk past him. They are clearly in the middle of some sort of discussion and don't notice Felix staring at them.

Swindle is wearing a pilot's suit. Onslaught is wearing one, too.

Screw the weird schedule. THIS is wrong.

Onslaught frowns, but when he opens his mouth there's a strange amused respect in his tone

“You slippery eel.”

Swindle smiles. His smile, Felix notices, is not the same at all. He doesn't look like an actor from a commercial. He looks like a worn-out but proud of himself man.

It's wrong, but he's seen it before, it's strange but it's familiar. He wants to go up to Swindle and ask what's going on. He wants to understand the damn schedule. He wants to...

…

First Aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not the nausea from the drugs or the weird withdrawals after a neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion.

It feels like being a lab mouse running through a maze.

You got the cheese. And here's the electric shocks. No escape. Never has been.

It's all the same.

He's not sure where he's going. Everyone around him seems very busy. Running about their own business, not paying attention to him and--

What is he supposed to do? He can't remember what day of the week it is. Shit. Is it Tuesday? He can't remember.

Does he need to find a schedule?

Everything feels weird.

By the schedule board, he almost crashes into Swindle.

“...You realize, if we can both get out of this shit, we can get others out too.”

Onslaught...still looking strange in his pilot suit instead of his usual uniform. Swindle pokes him in the side with his elbow as they both walk past Felix, completely ignoring him

“You just. Think about it. Even if you can't fire Offy from the pilots, you can at least free him from these disgusting experiments.”

Felix wants to go over and say hello. Politely and unobtrusively. And also kindly ask, “what the hell, boss?”

But you see it every day, his brain tells him. Have you forgotten?

It makes him feel wrong.

Here's the board, here's the schedule, just lift your stupid head up and see what you're supposed to be doing.

He looks at the board. It's Tuesday. It's dumb sheets that don't have his name on them. He wants to go up to Swindle, he should go up to Swindle, right?

…

It's all wrong, but it's a new kind of wrong. It's not from drugs or neural connection. And it's almost certainly not a concussion.

He's feeling.... hell, what day of the week is it? Tuesday right? He looked at the blackboard yesterday.

He stops. And makes a titanic effort to concentrate the jelly his head is now filled with instead of his brain.

Today is Tuesday because?...because yesterday was Tuesday? And the day before that, too? This is some kind of trippy shit, not a broken neural connection….

He's not looking for the schedule. He's seen the schedule a million times and he knows what's gonna be on it.

He's not sure where he's even going. The layout of the base is different. Not much, but enough to confuse him. He's still stubbornly checking out every familiar place he can find.

He doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't.

He still doesn't see a single damn familiar face.

Ambulon's gone, Pharma's disappeared somewhere too. No Tailgate or Wheeljack anywhere to be seen. And the layout is a little different and all the badges are the wrong color and Felix can't even read what's written on them because every time he tries all the letters blend into an indistinguishable blur.

He's trying to talk to someone. Anyone. But everyone either brushes him off or straight up ignores him. It's like he's a ghost or a lunatic or all of the above.

Everything is so familiar, but at the same time it isn't and his brain frantically clings to the last possibly familiar thing.

Vortex. He needs to find Vortex.

Even if it is him who is going insane and not everyone around him. Vortex is insane in his own, unique way, but he won't ignore him. He may get a good laugh, but it's still better than blindly poking around every corner by himself.

First Aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not nausea from drugs or weird withdrawals after neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion....

He snaps at himself. NO. Hell no.

Vortex. He needs to find Vortex.

The hangar looks surprisingly dark. The people look unfamiliar. And another schedule board beckons him to come over and check to see if it really is Tuesday, but he ignores everything and heads straight for his Mech.

Vortex hasn't changed a bit. Even the radius at which people avoid him is exactly the same.

And looking at him doesn't give Felix that fucking sense of wrongness.

He sees Vortex a lot. He just knows it. The thought is natural, in contrast to the others. That's good, that... It may sound strange, but Vortex is the most normal thing he can perceive right now.

He feels like he's grown little wings. His feet carry him up to the open cockpit and he barely notices the steps beneath him.

Vortex is here and he will understand and even if he doesn't, at least he won't ignore him. Vortex gets bored too quickly so he never minds distractions, no matter how absurd and...weird..they…

Huh…

Felix almost climbs into the cockpit, but freezes, right on the way in.

It's empty.

He crashes into that realization like an invisible wall.

The cockpit.... is clean.

It doesn't smell of chemicals or scrubbing agent. There are no thin streaks of old browned blood in the seams and crevices. There are no dents or stains on the edge of the visor.

The cameras are dead still and the screens are off.

There's no smell of stale blood or decay.

There's no one here.

But the back of his neck still tingles with the sensation of someone else's eyes staring at him.

“The fuck do you think you're doing?“

First Aid flinches startled and turns around.

There is a pilot standing a few feet away from him with a cigarette in his hand.

“..I’m..”

“I wouldn't stand there if I were you” smiles the stranger eying him with a suspiciously bloodthirsty smile “those things are glitchy as fuck. Might chop off something important.”

First Aid continues to stand just under the open visor. Maybe it's surprise or maybe he's too used to the idea that Vortex won't cut him in half. The pilot in front of him looks.... geez, where has he seen him???

Has he ever seen him at all? That green suit looks awfully familiar.

And the voice. There should be more mechanical notes in that voice, First Aid thinks. It should have more static and reverb and squeaks and rumbles and clicks and that quiet hum that sounds when the cockpit systems are turned on...

First Aid jumps off the Mech.

“Vortex...?”

The pilot casts him only a slightly surprised look at first, but a moment later recognition flares in his eyes.

“What the fuck....AID??”

First Aid instantly takes a swing and punches him in the face hard enough to send him wiping the dust on the floor.

“You!!!”

“Ha,” says Vortex from the floor. “Hahahahah ooooh Do it again! ”

First Aid kicks him. Vortex laughs like he's been told the world's happiest joke.

He sounds…alive. Alive and human and there’s no metal in his voice and

“What the fuck?”

Vortex stops laughing, but still doesn't get up off the floor

“What's the last thing you remember?”

First Aid still does nothing but stare at Vortex stunned. The human Vortex. Victor? Shit

“Until Tuesday, you mean?”

Vortex hums

”Till Tuesday.”

What was before Tuesday?

Another Tuesday. And another and another and another and another.

Someone from downstairs bangs loudly on the railing and berates Vortex for a safety violation, ordering him to put his cigarette away.

Vortex points his middle finger down somewhere and throws the cigarette over the railing.

Oh god. Oh shit.

First Aid swallows nervously.

“Shockwave...he used something...to control you-Mech...I mean. He did something, I think. I remember I couldn’t move couldn’t do anything. And now I’m in this hhhhplace? I don’t really recognise it.”

Vortex twitches the corner of his mouth and finally rises from the floor.

“Well I do.”

He looks like he is sick, First Aid thinks. He looks sick and he looks human and he has arms and legs and eyes and that stupid curly strand of dark hair sticking out from under his helmet and the dark eye bags.

“The bastard made up some sort of dumpster to transfer your consciousness in while he does shit to your body.”

First Aid clenches his hands together

“But there were two of us in the neural connection. And it took two of us to transfer here too...”

It suddenly dawns on him

“Wait. This base, these, everything. This is what the Mech project looked like in your time?? And Swindle and Onslaught and the staff is different and...”

Vortex raises his eyebrows smugly.

“...Here you are ...you're a human...” finishes First Aid.

Vortex pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

From somewhere below, a loud angry bang is heard again

“Tex, you bastard stop smoking in here.”

“Fuck you, Off,” Vortex yells back.

Then shrugs his shoulders

“I've always been human. No matter how hard Shockwave and his science shithole try to change that.”

He holds out an opened pack to First Aid

“Want some?”

First Aid feels awful. Terrible as if from the drugs, terrible as if from the neural connection. Terrible as if he had a concussion times two.

But Vortex is here and Vortex believes him and even if it turns out they're the ones who are crazy and not the world around them, at least they're crazy together.

First Aid takes a cigarette

“Thanks...”

_______________

Previous

[thewinchestah]

"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

-

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths. 

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you. 

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes  glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel  just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room. 

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.”  Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head 

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie” 

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming. 

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness. 

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over. 

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away. 

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place. 

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon. 

-

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it. 

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair. 

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward. 

-

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen. 

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine. 

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile. 

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.  

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first. 

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin. 

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me” 

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed  you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors. 

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”. 

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash. 

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

 if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class. 

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence. 

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out 

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room” 

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

 “I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?” 

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it. 

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission. 

“Take my breath away, Alastor” 

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious. 

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back. 

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard. 

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

 Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it. 

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him. 

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing 

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him,  making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be  begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down. 

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood. 

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started” 

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way” 

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs. 

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver. 

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control. 

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined  he would, if he had more time to work on you. 

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much. 

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more. 

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you. 

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure. 

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

 his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame” 

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this  pain of being broken feels good. 

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face. 

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth. 

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this”  Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice 

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back  when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture. 

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep. 

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

-

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

[starkspi]

Trying to bribe @morningstarwrites with these sketches so I can read the new chapter earlier ha! Thank you for the inspiration, the challenge and the absolute joy this fic brings me. I’d kiss your brain folds if I could.

[ghostbsuter]

The reason Danny– and in turn, Phantom - nearly dropped kicked Wes into the sun was, because the ginger believes that Bruce Wayne is batman.

Batman.

And with that, the entire family of Mr Wayne being the batcrew.

Them.

Which was ridiculous, Danny watched this week's episode of "keeping up with the waynes", he's seen Mr Wayne in a bathrobe, trying to drink his omelette and his children being absolute chaos gremlins.

These people could NOT be the batman and Co. Of Gotham.

[girlshadowthehedgehog]

wowzas!! here's my submission for the @sthbigbang in collaboration with the lovely writer @stillafanofsonic and the artists @vulcan-moon , @whalesharkstho , and @brobexx!! it was an absolute pleasure to work with talented artists on an incredible story. check out their submissions, too!!!! <3

fic: x

artwork: x x x

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 3)

In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she accidentally kisses him. 

+++

A perfect day for y/n includes plugging in her headphones, getting herself a little starbucks treat, and going to the bookstore. 

After her week of midterm hell, she decided that she deserved this. She hadn’t been to the bookstore in a while, and none of the books she has right now are piquing her interest. She deserves her chai latte, she deserves to take a break from studying, and she deserves to have a day to herself. 

She’s unaware of her surroundings as she walks through the fiction aisle. She has two books under her arm that she’s deciding between getting (she’s on a college girl budget, she can Not afford to be buying more than one book a week), but a third one sitting on the new release shelf catches her eye. It’s by one of her favorite authors – but it hasn’t been released in paperback yet, and hardcovers are so expensive. Maybe she could see if the library has it, instead. 

She puts it back on the shelf, and side steps along the aisle, scanning all the books displayed all organized and pretty. When she gets a house, she’ll turn one of the bedrooms into a library, and display all her books with a bunch of cozy candles and a reading nook and it’ll be perfect. That’s the dream, she sighs. 

She moseys into the non-fiction aisle… not really her go-to genre, but when she’s at the bookstore, she’ll be there all day. There’s another girl in the aisle with her, with a book cracked open, reading the author’s note. Y/n is careful not to get too close, staying a couple steps to the side and looking over all the titles. Another figure joins the girl standing to her right – a tall male who looks oddly familiar. 

Suddenly she’s smelling vanilla and smoked wood. 

She peaks over discreetly, and recognizes the curly brown hair and hunched shoulders instantaneously. Harry stands close to the other girl, his chest brushing her arm as he looks over her shoulder at the book she’s holding. He’s got a book of his own tucked under his arm, and his signature smirk dimples his cheek as he whispers something to the girl. Y/n wonders what they’re talking about, feeling a pang in her chest as he quietly giggles with this other, pretty girl. He's dressed much more casually than his usual button ups and slacks that he wears to class. Nike shorts and a gray hoodie, with a brown pair of sunglasses pushing his unruly curls out of his face. 

This is the Harry that exists outside of class. He wears hoodies and goes to bookstores on the weekends and has friends that she doesn’t know about. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with how much she doesn’t know about him. For example – is this pretty red-headed girl his girlfriend? 

She swallows thickly and averts her eyes, pretending like she didn’t notice him. She doesn’t think TA’s enjoy seeing students outside of class (even if they are also the kind of TA to drive students home when it’s rainy or late at night). Plus, what would she even say? Hi Harry, is this pretty girl your girlfriend? Because I was actually hoping you were single and also I have a huge crush on you and sometimes I think about what it’d be like to kiss you– but I’ll try to keep all that to a minimum if you are actually in a happy relationship! 

She takes a couple quiet steps back towards the romance aisle – not only her favorite genre, but a safe escape route from any possible awkward encounters – but of course, OF COURSE she’d accidentally knock into a display table and knock a few books down. 

She quickly bends down to pick up the books and pretend like nothing happened, but she’s not quick enough to escape Harry who curiously calls out, “Y/n?”

She smiles nervously. “Hello.” 

The look on Harry’s face is one that could light up the darkest room. He smiles excitedly, his bunny teeth on display, and his eyes brighten with familiarity. He turns to the girl next to him, bursting, “Madeline– this is her!” 

“Y/n?” Madeline chirps, her voice light and fluttery like a bird. 

“Um, yeah?” Y/n’s eyes flicker between Harry and red-headed Madeline. Does Madeline know who she is?

Her confusion is obvious, her head tilting slightly and her lips pinched to the side. “Madeline is another one of the graduate students in my year–” Harry explains. “She TA’s for one of Dr. Richmond’s other sections.” 

Y/n nods, still confused.

“I’ve read your essays!” Madeline bubbles. “Harry and I always talk about our favorite students and send each other the really good essays!” Harry’s cheeks turn pink as Madeline exposes his favoritism towards y/n, but he supposes it’s not that much of a secret. Y/n’s eyes glance towards him curiously, who stands with his lips curled in a bashful smile. 

“Oh,” y/n doesn't fully know what to say, feeling shy and nervous but flattered at the same time. “That’s so nice, I… I didn’t know TA’s did that.”

“Oh yeah, we also send each other the bad ones…” Madeline prattles on, while Harry brushes his knuckles against his nose, almost embarrassedly. What a coincidence to see her here, when he’d literally just been telling Madeline all about his favorite student — the only student to show up to his office hours, who had so many good thoughts on the books that they were reading, and who wasn’t even an English major! The two graduate students always complained to each other how the students that they TA-ed didn’t seem to appreciate the books they analyzed together – how hard it was to get students to participate, which is silly since they literally signed up for those classes voluntarily. It’s rare to have students who genuinely want to talk to them about whatever they’re reading in class.

Madeline rests a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go check out this book and then we can go back to yours, yeah?” He has no idea what else she might’ve said within the past minute, too caught up in his own thoughts, but he nods as she walks towards the register. That leaves him alone with y/n. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and y/n tucks her books to her chest protectively. She’s silently analyzing what Madeline might’ve meant when she said that they’d go back to his place. He nods his chin towards the books, “What are y’getting?” He genuinely can’t control the way his eyes glimmer with fondness when he looks at her. 

She reveals the covers to him. “Well, this one’s called Rebecca… and this one’s called Bunny.”

His lips twitch, “Bunny?” She nods. He thinks about the way y/n’s nose tends to twitch like a little bunny. What a fitting book. 

“What book are you and… Madeline getting?” 

“Er– just a book Dr. Richmond wanted us to pick up for him. For the section Madeline TA’s for.” 

She nods. He rocks back and forth on his toes, staring at her with that fond glimmer still in his eye. 

Madeline comes skipping back a few seconds later. “Ready?”

With a wave, Harry and Madeline head out. Y/n carries on with her book shopping, Harry lingering in the back of her mind. 

+++

“Okay everyone, that’s all for today,” all the students in the room start shutting their laptops and zipping their bags as Dr. Richmond closes his own book. “Don’t forget to do this weekend's reading, check the course site for the next essay prompt… and, um… yeah, that’s it.” Harry quickly stands from his corner of the classroom, tapping Dr. Richmond lightly on the shoulder. “Oh!” Dr. Richmond exclaims into the mic, “Wait– everyone pause, Harry has an announcement.” 

The shuffling and murmurs die down, as Harry stands in front of the lecture hall with his hands folded behind his back. “Um– Just wanted to let you all know that your essays have been graded. Scores will be posted by the end of the day, and if you have any questions or want to go over your papers, you can come to my office hours. Thursdays at 5.” 

He gives a soft, close lipped smile, and everyone resumes their chattering. Y/n is the only one who approaches Harry’s desk.

“Hi,” she fiddles with the straps of her bag nervously, “Can I know how I did?”

Harry, who’s packing up his books, gives her a teasing side eye, a sly smirk on his lips, “Didn’t I just say come to office hours?”

She shrugs, “Was hoping you’d tell me early. Since I’m your favorite and all.” 

He breathes a laugh through his nose, looking around the classroom to scour if anyone’s still there other than the two of them. He can’t even bring himself to deny it. “M’not supposed to have favorites,” is all he has to say. His cheeks tint pink and he smiles bashfully, both of them knowing fully well that his favoritism is undeniably there, even if he’s technically not supposed to let it show. 

“Come on Harry,” she pleads, wide eyed and pretty, “I worked extra hard on it since I had that extension. I literally spent all weekend on it.”

He clips the buckles on his briefcase and looks at her with an exaggeratedly heavy sigh, “I suppose I could make an exception. Only ‘cos you worked so hard on it.” She beams at him. “We’ve got t’go to my office though. There’s a discussion in here right after us.”

“Okay,” she starts toward the door, trotting eagerly ahead of him like an excited little bunny. “Do you mind if we stop by Starbucks first? It’s on the way to your office.”

+++

The Starbucks line is short. Harry goes first. “Could I have an americano, please?” he orders. He then looks back at y/n, “And um… also one of those chai drinks? With the pumpkin spice?” he smiles charmingly at the barista, and ignores the way y/n rushes to his side. 

“Wait– Harry, you’re not getting that for me are you?” she whispers, tugging on the sleeve of his coat.

The barista asks Harry what size he wants the pumpkin chai. He turns to y/n, “What size d’you usually get?”

“No, Harry– you can’t–”

“A medium should be good, I think,” he says to the barista, brushing off y/n’s complaints. 

She pouts as he whips out his card and taps it on the reader. “Why are you allowed to get me drinks if I’m not allowed to get you drinks?”

He shrugs, walking away from the register. “Because I said so.”

+++

It’s exactly when they settle down in Harry’s office that Madeline makes another appearance.

“Hey Harry,” she says, knocking on his door and peeking in. “Oop– Hi y/n. Did you see Dr. Richmond’s email about the grad panel? Do you think you’ll go?”

“Umm,” Harry sits in his chair and unlocks his computer with pursed lips, “Dunno. Don’t really want to. S’not mandatory, is it?”

“No. I’ll only go if you go. It’ll be boring, otherwise.”

“Nah,” Harry scrunches his nose. “Lets not. M’tired. And m’having some office hours right now,” he says with a nod towards y/n. 

“M’kay,” Madeline shrugs. “Nice to see you, y/n!”

Y/n has no reason to dislike sweet, kind, bubbly Madeline, other than for the fact that she seems to be exceptionally close with Harry. She feels a pit in her stomach when she sees the pretty girl bounce away, carefree and happy. Of course, she has no good reason to be jealous, because Harry is just her TA, and he’s just nice to her because she comes to his office hours, and that she should have absolutely no expectations of anything to come of her crush.

Harry pulls out the folder of all the graded papers, and shuffles through the names until he gets to hers. He hides her score from her, staring at her teasingly. “You sure you wanna see it with me right here?”

She nods eagerly, eyes wide and excited.

“Okay…” He drags it out, looking down once more at her paper before revealing the big 100% written at the top of her paper.

Her jaw drops. “Really?” 

“Mhm,” he says with a big smile. Leaning in, he whispers, “the only perfect score in the entire class, too.” 

Her smile grows wider, and she’s speechless, staring at her score. She was proud of the essay, of course, but she’s always nervous about getting grades back. There’s always room for improvement, she knows, but most professors are pretty ruthless with the criticism.

“S’not that surprising, is it?” he asks with a quirk of his lip. Surely she must’ve known that she’s a good writer, no? 

She shrugs. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was going to get a perfect score.” 

“It was brilliant, really,” he says, “And not just because m’playing favorites. I showed it to Madeline too, and she thought it deserved a perfect score as well. You’re so cohesive and elegant with your words… s’well deserved. You’re writing is on par with some of the graduate students in my year, honestly.” 

Y/n feels her cheeks heating, flipping through the pages. Despite the fact that he gave her a perfect score, it doesn’t mean that her paper is empty of any criticism. He’s made little notes all over the margins, playing on her ideas and telling her ways he thinks she could build upon them in the future. Her eyes lightly skim through his notes and the generous amount of praise he’s written for her. “Love this,” he wrote, highlighting a certain section of her essay. “Wish you talked more about this in the intro,” he writes at another point. He’s still advising her on how to get better and what she could improve on, but… “You met all the rubric requirements. By our grading standards, it’s perfect.”

“No deductions for submitting it late?” she asks nervously.

“Y’didn’t submit it late. Dr. Richmond gave you an extension. I told him how many units you’re in, and how you’re not even taking this class for any credit towards your major – and he agreed that you deserved some slack.” He takes one of the papers from his stack of essays and uses it to playfully smack the top of her head, “stop worrying about that.”

Her chest bubbles with relief and she smiles. “Well… thanks for letting me get it back early,” she says. “I, um– I’d love to talk about it more in depth but I don’t wanna bother you… like, if you wanted to go to that thing with Madeline, we can be done.”

Harry groans, “oh my god, please no. I don’t wanna go to that panel. I’ll take any excuse not to go.”

“Are you sure?” y/n tilts her head. “Madeline seemed– like it just seemed like you two were… like…” she doesn’t know how to end that sentence, and has no idea where she was going with it in the first place.

Harry tries his best to fill in the blanks for her. “Madeline and I just usually go to these events together ‘cos they’re boring and it’s awkward to go alone. She’s my thesis partner so we usually stick together.” Harry rubs his eyes tiredly, “I really don’t wanna think about my thesis though. I spent all weekend grading, I just wanna go home and nap. Not go to a panel of a bunch of thesis advisors. That sounds miserable.”

Y/n nods, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Oh. Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun.” 

“Yeah,” he lets out a deep, tired sigh. “Anyway.” 

Y/n’s lips kiss her teeth as she rolls her lips inwards. “Well– I should head out then,” she stands up quickly, suddenly feeling awkward, “I don’t want to keep you here if you’re tired.” 

“S’no trouble,” he says, sitting up. 

She turns about herself, grabbing her bag from the floor and her jacket from the back of her chair. “No, honestly I’m kind of tired too,” she rambles, “I’ll look over the notes you left for me and come back during office hours.” She reaches forward to grab her essay from the desk, unaware of the way the sleeve of her sweater is dragging across his desk and snagging onto the lid of her half full iced chai, sending it onto the floor. The lip pops off of the drink when it meets the ground, and she gasps as his hardwood floors are suddenly covered in her pumpkin spiced drink. 

Harry rolls back from the splashing drink quickly, trying to avoid getting his nicely pressed pants stained, while y/n gasps, having no idea how her drink ended up on the floor. “Shit!” she exclaims, dropping her paper back on the desk and checking for the culprit of the mess. She nearly facepalms when she realizes it was her own hanging sleeve and unawareness that made her coffee spill to the floor. She drops her things back on the floor, “Oh my god, Harry, I’m so sorry.” She frantically looks around and sees a roll of paper towels on his bookshelf, rushing to his side of the desk where the majority of the mess is and kneeling down. She lays a ton of paper towels down on the floor, letting them soak up the drink, and looks on his desk to sadly find that her drink stained the edges of a few of his graded papers. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, s’no big deal,” Harry’s quick to reassure her. He rolls back closer to her, a hand on her shoulder. “Just an accident.”

“But the papers–”

“S’just the edges. I once spilled an entire cup of soup on a stack of ungraded papers and had to just give everyone 100%.” He smiles, “That’s not what happened with your essay though, obviously.” 

She huffs out a laugh. He always manages to make things better when she’s stressed. 

He gets out of his chair, kneeling down next to her in his well pressed trousers to help with cleaning up the soaked paper towels. “No, Harry, I can do it,” she resists, leaning forward at the same time as him. Their foreheads nearly collide as she pushes his hands away, wanting to clean up her own mess. His chocolate brown curls have flopped onto his forehead, and his face is so close to y/n’s that she can actually feel them brushing against her forehead. He looks at her through his lashes, his eyes bright green. Her own eyes are wide and round, staring at him sweetly. Their faces are extremely close, her hand is encasing his, and they are both incredibly aware of it. 

Y/n’s lips part, as if she wants to say something, but she finds herself unable to create any coherent sentences. Harry similarly, stares at her through his lashes, his breath bated, his chest tight. 

Her eyes flicker down to his mouth. She stares at his pretty, pink lips, not curled into their usual, charming smile. He’s serious and deep in thought, his eyebrow furrowing. She’s too distracted by his lips to try and figure out what he might be thinking about. The air around them is tense, and neither of them say anything.

 There’s something so magnetic about him. She doesn’t realize that she’s leaning in… closer and closer to those pretty, heart shaped lips. 

Suddenly, y/n has inched so close that their noses are brushing. She can feel his gentle puffs of air against her lips. She’s so close that Harry has to flutter his eyelashes shut in order to not get cross eyed from staring at her. His heart thumps in his chest, and he swallows thickly. In a moment of weakness, he finds himself leaning towards her, and for the briefest moment, their lips brush, his bottom lip tickling her cupid's bow. His hand reciprocates her embrace, his fingers tightening around her palm. 

They both know they shouldn’t. “Y/n,” Harry croaks, and her heart flutters. “We shouldn’t…” Her heart immediately deflates, and she pulls back, embarrassed. Her gaze drops to the floor disappointedly, feeling stupid and foolish.

Harry can’t bear the distance between their lips– can’t bring himself to refuse the pleasure of having her soft lips against his. He likes her – of course he does! She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s kind… but she’s his student. That’s the only thing that’s hindered him this entire semester. The guilt of falling for one of his students, when he knows how wrong it is. 

The guilt isn’t strong enough, apparently. He follows her forward with enough force to connect their lips in a kiss. 

It’s soft and harsh at the same time – their lips are gentle, but his stubble is scratchy. The kiss is sweet, but the tension behind it is rupturing like an overflowing dam. He’s caught her by surprise, kissing her just seconds after telling her that they shouldn’t. But she’s not upset about it. She’s too busy reveling in the taste of his mouth, experiencing the feeling of his lips against hers for the first time, after daydreaming about it for weeks. 

It doesn’t matter that they’re both sitting on the floor, hovering over a spilled chai tea latte. 

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what she imagined. 

He feels warm, his skin soft, his lips sweet. His woody vanilla scent drenches her senses, and she’s lightheaded from how magnificent it is to finally be kissing Harry. Wonderful, amazing, charming Harry, with his dazzling green eyes and his soft, brown hair. Those boyish dimples and pretty pink lips, the same pretty pink lips that are puckered against hers right now. 

He brings a hand up to cup her jaw, his fingers gently making their way to tangle in the hair behind her ear. She feels his thumb on her cheekbone, caressing her softly, and it sends a blaze down her entire body. His rough, calloused fingertip, worn down from all the writing and papers he graded, grazing her soft cheekbone as if he’s afraid to break her. As if she’s the most precious thing on the planet.

Leaning forward on her knees, she inches closer to him, pressing herself more firmly to him and reciprocating the eagerness in which he initiated this kiss. His fingers tighten in her hair and his eyebrows furrow. Her lips are the sweetest, softest thing that he’s ever tasted, cloud-like pillows that he wants to kiss on for the rest of his life. 

He’s desperate to get closer to her – he wants to kiss her until she’s breathless and whimpering his name. Lean forward so that she’s lying on the floor and he’s hovering above her, his hand on her hip. Teasing his palm up her leg, under the edge of the skirt she’s wearing, while he fits his hips between her legs. He wants to pick her up and get her on the couch, spread her legs and kneel between them. Kiss up her pretty thighs, suck marks on her pretty skin–

Footsteps echo in the hallway outside of his door. They both jolt away instantaneously. The headrush of their magnificent first kiss starts to fade, and the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

They are in his office. The door is unlocked. She is his student.

Harry’s chest rises heavily and his eyes flutter open, hoping to meet her pretty irises – but her gaze is firmly on the floor, where she’s wiping up the last of her spilled drink and bunching up all the used paper towels together in her fist. She dumps them in the trash under his desk quickly, and stands before he even has the chance to move.

“Hey…” he tries to say, but he can barely find his voice. He’s stuck in a trance.

“I should go, Harry,” she says quickly, avoiding his eyes. Her lips are still swollen, a reminder of how not even five seconds ago, he’d been kissing her without a care in the world. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks up at her like a confused little puppy, distraught and wanting more affection. 

But it’s so wrong. Her heart aches, a mix of regret for being so stupid, but also regret that she pulled away. It’s too much for her to process.

She grabs her bag from the floor, and is out of his office, without another word. 

Harry’s fingers graze his lips. He’s left alone with his thoughts, and the lingering taste of her on his lips.

+++

For the first time in seven consecutive weeks, y/n doesn’t show up to Harry’s office hours. 

Harry spends the hour grading essays, alone. A cup of black coffee on his desk, and his floors sticky with the remnants of pumpkin syrup.

+++

Y/n spends the hour that she would have spent in Harry’s office hours, alone in her room. She’s glued to her phone, an incognito tab pulled up as she tries to calm her racing mind.

“Is kissing between a student and a TA prohibited?”

“Student-TA relationships”

“Rules on dating TAs”

“Will I get in trouble for hooking up with my TA?” (Yes, it was just a kiss. But hypothetically… if they were to hook up… would she get in trouble?)

None of the search results do much to calm her guilty conscience.

She wishes she could just appreciate her kiss with Harry for what it was – a sweet kiss with the most attractive, amazing, wonderful, perfect boy she’s ever interacted with. But there’s just the small, annoying fact that he is her TA and she’s scared that she’s gonna get expelled for that sweet, innocent little kiss.

She’s spent days worrying herself over it. Biting her nails and picking at her cuticles and tugging at her hair. Some people on reddit say that it’s no big deal, that graduate students and undergrads date all the time! But other people tend to disagree, saying it’s a bad idea, NO MATTER WHAT. No matter how sweet or handsome or kind that graduate student might be. No matter how much you might like him, no matter how innocent it all really is – just two people who like Frankenstein who get along swimmingly well.

The whole TA thing is just… a minor detail. Only partially relevant. 

Despite her reluctance, she still does show up to class because Dr. Richmond takes attendance and she doesn’t want to hurt her grade just because of some stupid, silly mistake.

She wonders how Harry feels about it all. He probably has more at stake than her – he’s the graduate student, after all. Does he regret kissing her? Or, like her, does he only regret the fact that she’s his student, and how risky it is? They’re playing with fire. 

Whatever the case may be, y/n decides to put the fire out. Her crush on Harry was meant to be a silly thing, something to keep her coming to class and motivate her to stay on top of her work. This has gone too far. 

She needs to wake herself up from whatever fantasy world she’s living in, and come back down to reality.

+++

Harry’s eyes are on her for the entirety of Dr. Richmond’s lecture.

He’s discreet about it, of course. It’s not like he’s outright staring at her. But he watches her from the corner of his eye, has her in the back of his mind as he tries to pay attention to whatever Dr. Richmond’s rambling on about.

He needs to talk to her. Needs to sort this out and make it right. He knows that she’s in her head about this – he can tell from how she refuses to even look in his direction. But he needs to tell her that it’s alright, that she’ll be okay.

Y/n bolts out of the lecture as soon as it’s over. Harry, as quick as he tries to be, can’t manage to pack up his things and follow her out fast enough. He tries to get past the students as quickly as he can, giving half-hearted answers to their questions and telling them all to come to his office hours instead – but it’s not fast enough. 

By the time he’s out of the classroom, she’s halfway home already.

+++

The same thing happens at the next class, too.

The normally active y/n, who eagerly participated in discussions and answered all of Harry’s questions was quiet as a mouse today – feigning a headache to the classmates around her. She kept her head low, kept her eyes away from Harry. 

And when class was over, she was out the door before Harry could even look in her direction. 

+++

there's part 3!! pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! 

Prose (part 4) is already posted on patreon! 

Prose Masterlist

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This?: Chapter 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/N talks about how she met James Barnes and how she found herself in the modern world. Follow on from this fic.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

"I'm sorry, what was that? Wife? You two are married?" Sam asked, looking between Bucky and Y/N.

"Indeed we are, aren't we darling?"

Y/N looked at Bucky first with a smile then with dead eyes. "I'm still pissed with you," Sam couldn't place her accent. It was a strange combination of Brooklyn, southern and English.

"Babydoll," Bucky sighed, as his wife got up from the couch and walked to the kitchenette.

"No. Don't you babydoll, me. I had two officers with a telegram in their hand as they flat out told me you had fallen off a train in the Alps of all places, whilst you were on some stupid mission with Steve, they never went looking for you, they simply declared you were missing and you were most likely dead."

Bucky's face falls, realising how much she had missed him after he fell off the train. After he had escaped to Bucharest, his memories came back in flashes - her face had always been there front and centre. He never had the time to sit Steve down and ask him about the gorgeous girl in his memories. It had taken another trip to the Smithsonian Institution - and that's when he saw her further into the exhibition, her arms in both Bucky and Steve's as she looked up at him in awe. Bucky and Y/N were married on January 15, 1941 - four weeks after Bucky signed up.

He gets up also, leaving the blanket which once covered them in a ball on the couch. "Sweetheart," he said softly.

"They told me on our fucking anniversary as well!" The tears couldn't be held back as they started rolling down her cheeks.

"It may be late, but happy anniversary," Bucky says, which gets a watery sob out of Y/N - who returns the sentiment.

Sam walks around the couple and into the kitchenette. "How long have you two now been married then?"

They looked at each other. "If you don't count the time we were separated, three years."

"And if you do?" Sharon asks.

"Eighty-three."

"Seems like I owe you a lot of anniversary presents. And birthdays, and Christmas..." Bucky trails off. "Seeming like I'll always be in debt to you, doll."

She shakes her head, "I have you here now. That's the only present I need."

"So how did you two meet?" Sam asks.

August 3rd, 1922

It was the first day at Brooklyn Heights Elementary School. Winnifred Barnes held her eldest son's hand as she took him to school.

Little James Barnes was terrified, it would be his first full day away from his ma, he didn't know anyone and he had a strong feeling like he wanted to cry (his father George had firmly told him men don't cry).

The mother and son duo were stood in front of a little peg, which had his name stuck to it, he was in between someone called Steve and someone called Y/N (the little girl had already taken her coat off - which her mother was hanging up for her, as she dug through her backpack on the floor).

"Y/N what have I told you about sitting on the floor like that?" Y/N's mother said, cupping her hands underneath her armpits and sat her on her knees.

"I can't find my crayons, mama!" Y/N exclaimed, looking up at her mama.

James looked down into his backpack and saw the small pack of crayons his father had brought back home one night. "We can share mine," he tells the little girl on the floor, sitting down next to her.

She looked at him with a big smile. Even at four years old, he couldn't help but think she was the prettiest girl in the world.

"That's how you got your girl? Crayons when you were four?" Sam asks.

"No, I had always known she was beautiful, but it took me a long time to persuade her for a date."

Y/N looked at her husband with a singular raised eyebrow. "You went from girl to girl with no consideration of their feelings. I didn't want to be put on the same list."

"Not a chance, since we locked eyes on that cold floor in elementary school, I have always been yours."

January 15, 1940

"Please, doll," Bucky nearly begged, as Y/N made her way around the counter at the local diner where she currently works. "Just one date."

"No, James, you can't ask me just because you don't have a date for the night."

Bucky sighed, he loved how she was the only one (apart from his ma when he annoyed her) who still called him James. "But, doll."

"And what have I told you about calling me doll?"

"I could take you to Coney Island," which was shut down saying that was his and Steve's 'place to hang out without her'. Bucky denied it, saying that it wasn't right that he and Steve spent time together without her. "What about the movies?"

"The three of us have already seen everything at the movies right now."

Bucky looked at the ceiling, as he fiddled with his ice cream float. "You don't want to go to Coney Island, we've seen everything at the movies and you don't want to go to a diner..."

He heard someone make a passing comment that the river in that park upstate had frozen over and was perfect for. "Ice skating! That's it, I'll take you ice skating!"

Y/N looked over at him, "Will it shut you up?" He nodded. "Fine, you can take me ice skating."

Bucky let out a loud cheer. "I promise you, you won't regret it, babydoll."

Bucky leaned over pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran out of the diner - he missed Y/N rubbing her cheek with a growing smile on her face.

"You were smitten with me?"

"Since day one, babydoll."

They shared a kiss when the door was pushed open by someone who looked like he had a homemade costume Steve used to wear. "What the hell?"

"Alright, that's it. Your time is up. Tell me where Zemo is," someone came storming in, dressed like Steve, shield in one hand as he pointed at the other people in the room. Y/N looked from Bucky to Sam to Sharon and then back to Bucky.

"We know you're hiding him," his sidekick added, crossing his arms.

The Captain America wannabe ordered them to turn over Zemo, which Y/N countered with a comment about the Captain America wannabe running his mouth.

"How did I miss you?" He flirts.

Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, then looked up at Bucky (who whispered into her ear that they were trying to get the shield back). "Give me a second," She puts on a look on her face and makes her way over to the Captain America wannabe. "Oh my God, is that the shield?" She could see him preen at her words. "Can I have a look at it?"

Stupidly, he hands her the shield, Y/N looks it over, and then up at him. "Thanks," and makes her way back to Bucky.

"What are you doing with my shield?"

"I think you mean, my shield. Considering that it technically belongs to me."

Captain America wannabe looked at her confused, what the hell was she talking about? "Who even are you?"

"Who am I? He doesn't know, James!" Y/N looked up at Bucky.  "He doesn't know!" The couple laughed. "I'm Y/N, Steve's half-sister, and this muppet's wife."

"Wait, so how did you end up 80 years in the future?" Sam asks as the trio settles in for the night.

"Howard wanted to make another Super Soldier after the war after Steve had 'died'," she puts quotes around died, then turns her head to look at Bucky. "Yes, I know what happened to Howard and Maria," Bucky's face fell - she knew what he had done as the Winter Soldier(the war crimes he had committed had been plastered all over the news during his trial). 

Sam looked between Bucky and Y/N as he asked. "What happened? I presume you volunteered."

She nods her head. "I did. But, something went wrong. They gave me the serum, and I remember collapsing to the floor and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the year 2019, Steve's face over the top of mine, tears in his eyes, saying he was so happy to see me."

"Steve knew you were alive?" Bucky asked, looking at his wife in surprise. There were about two weeks between the Battle of Earth and Steve went back to the past. 

"I don't remember much from when I woke up, because I was falling in and out of sleep, for a long time." She says, looking up at the ceiling.

[romanreignsbae]

My little bookworm - J.U

thanks for the request boo! 💗

Readers POV:

It was a lazy Thursday morning in May, and I was lost in my favorite activity - reading. I was lying on my stomach in bed, my face buried in a book, completely oblivious to my surroundings. The soft cotton of Josh's old t-shirt that I was wearing brushed against my skin as I turned the pages, absorbed in the story.

Suddenly, I felt the mattress dip as Josh joined me, his strong body settling on top of mine. I felt his warm breath on my ear as he nuzzled my neck, his black hair falling forward, tickling my skin. "Hey bookworm," he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I smiled, my body starting to respond to his attention, but I was determined to finish this chapter. "Hey yourself," I replied, my voice a little breathless as I tried to focus on the words in front of me.

Undeterred, Josh began to kiss and nip at my neck, knowing how sensitive I was there. His beard scraped against my skin, sending little sparks of pleasure through me. I gasped, my book forgotten as he sucked on that sweet spot just below my ear.

His hands started to wander, sliding up my sides, underneath the t-shirt I was wearing. I felt his calloused fingertips grazing the bare skin of my hips, making me arch my back slightly, pressing my ass against his hardening dick.

Josh chuckled, his warm breath now on my shoulder as he kissed along my collarbone. "That book must be really good if it's holding your attention when I'm doing this," he teased, grinding his hips gently against mine so I could feel his growing erection.

"Mmm, it is," I murmured, my eyes finally tearing themselves away from the pages. I turned my head to look at him, seeing the desire burning in his brown eyes. "But I think I might have found something even better."

I placed the book aside, finally giving him my undivided attention. Josh smiled, a sexy, cocky grin, and pulled the t-shirt up over my head, leaving me bare from the waist up. I loved how his eyes darkened with desire as he looked at my naked breasts, his gaze burning into my skin.

His hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs brushing against my already hard nipples. I moaned, my back arching, offering myself to him. He leaned down, taking one tight bud into his mouth, sucking gently as he teased it with his tongue.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him to me as a moan escaped my lips. "Josh, oh god," I breathed, feeling my body getting hotter and my pussy getting wetter with every touch.

He switched his attention to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, his beard tickling my sensitive skin. His hands moved down my body, his fingers skating over my ribs, making me squirm with anticipation.

Then, his fingers found the waistband of my panties, and with slow, deliberate movements, he peeled them down my legs, over my feet, and off. I lifted my hips to help him, now completely naked and exposed to his hungry gaze.

Josh's eyes devoured me, making me feel desired and wanted as he took in my naked body. His big hand reached between my legs, one finger tracing my slit, collecting my wetness. I was so turned on, my pussy was soaked, and I moaned as his finger teased my clit, making little circles that had me squirming.

"Josh, please," I begged, my hips bucking up, seeking more contact.

"Please what, baby?" He teased, his finger still circling my clit, making me desperate.

"Fuck me, please. I need you now," I pleaded, my body on fire, my pussy clenching with need.

With a growl, Josh finally gave me what I wanted. He positioned his hard dick at my entrance, and in one smooth thrust, he slid inside me, filling me up. I gasped, my eyes rolling back in my head at the sensation of him stretching me, claiming me as his own.

He paused for a moment, giving me a chance to adjust to his size, before beginning to move. His hips thrust slowly at first, setting a steady, deep rhythm that had me moaning and my nails digging into his shoulders.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his eyes clenched shut as he moved in and out of me, his cock sliding in deep. "So fucking tight and wet."

I met his thrusts, my hips moving in time with his, our bodies creating a sexy, slick rhythm. "Harder, Josh," I begged, wanting more. "Fuck me harder."

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more powerful, his hips slapping against my ass as he drove into me, faster and harder. The bed creaked beneath us, the sound of our skin slapping together filling the room, along with our moans and gasps.

I felt my orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in my belly. "Josh, I'm gonna cum," I gasped, my fingers finding my clit as I rubbed little circles, sending me over the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his own voice strained as he pounded into me. "Let me feel you cum on my cock."

I did as he said, my pussy clenching around him as my orgasm washed over me. I cried out, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure racked me. Josh followed soon after, his own release hitting me deep as he filled me with his hot cum.

We lay entangled for a while, our hearts pounding and our breathing ragged. Josh nuzzled my neck, placing soft kisses there as he played with my hair. "Best way to get your attention, huh?" he teased.

I smiled, feeling satisfied and loved. "Definitely," I agreed, turning my head to kiss him softly. "Anytime you want to distract me like that, I won't complain."

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 28 - No-holds-barred beatdown, exposure, used as bait

CONTINUATION TO DAY 13 go read that one if you haven’t (or if you need a refresher it’s been so long lol)

Hi I'm still kicking <3 only three left after this, I WILL be finishing these, NO MATTER WHAT RAAAAAH. my goal is to be done before the 15th but we'll see how that goes. I'm going to try 😓

The prompts used aren’t the best, but they were the only ones that even vaguely fit lol. The third one doesn’t even come into effect until the very end. Also this was only going to be one more part. but. they kept talking.

Warnings: violence, injury, a handful of previous warnings from day 13

Day 13

ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sky and Warriors woke up at the same time.

Twilight stirred from his spot on the ground, having let his mind wander as he’d waited. His body still ached a bit, and it wasn't helped by his stint on the cold floor, but he sat up anyway as Warriors’ eyelids fluttered, and a squeaky moan came from Time’s back, Sky’s tail flicking. Twilight looked between the two, then went to Sky first, since strangely enough it seemed like he was waking up faster.

Legend sat next to Warriors, saying something to him as he woke, and Time watched the two with slightly narrowed eyes. He looked at Twilight as he walked up, flicking an ear as Warriors let out a disbelieving noise and Legend squawked angrily.

“Here,” Time said, carefully leaning over and sliding Sky off his back. “I’m going to go make sure Legend doesn’t bite him. And that the captain doesn’t stomp our veteran by accident. Or on purpose.”

Twilight nodded, and sat down next to Sky as his blue eyes flickered open.

“Easy Sky,” Twilight woofed as he moved a little, and Sky twitched his nose.

“Ow...” he groaned, and Twilight gave his ear a gentle lick. “...Oh, hey rancher... why’re you so big?” he asked blearily, squinting as he tried to sit up. His paws slipped out from under him though, and Sky stared at them in bewilderment, the expression honestly adorable on his furry face. He wiggled a few toes, and stared at the fur and claws, blinking in shock.

“Rancher?” Sky repeated in more of an alarmed voice. “What’s going on?”

“Short version? We all got turned into animals,” Twilight admitted, giving Sky a little push with his snout in order to help him sit up when he tried again. “We fell down here and all transformed somehow. You’re one of those cat things on your island, a... was it a remake?”

“A remlit,” Sky corrected, sounding a little calmer, but still disturbed. He studied his paws, and tilted his head back, trying to look at his ears and tail. “Huh. Just like Legend that one time. Those... women did this to us?”

“Yep, the creepy voice ones. Or something down here did, we’re not exactly sure. But it’s their fault somehow,” Twilight confirmed, and watched intently as Sky shakily stood up, paws trembling. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m— yeah. This is just... weird,” he admitted. “I... this was dark magic, wasn’t it?”

“We think so, yeah.”

Sky frowned and looked around the dark cave, large ears swiveling, and both he and Twilight jumped as they heard a distressed whinny. Twilight whirled around, and saw Warriors attempting to get to his hooves, his legs wobbling underneath him.

“Easy Captain, don’t move too quickly,” Time warned, and Warriors snorted, tossing his head.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me, I’m not staying like this a moment longer than I have to!” Warriors said, nearly falling over. “Horses are fine, I like horses, but I don’t want to be one!”

“Actually you’re a unicorn,” Legend said helpfully, and Warriors huffed angrily as Time moved to his side, helping to steady him.

“Right. I’m a horse with a big pointy stick on my head. Wonderful.”

“At least you can stab things,” Legend continued, nose twitching in amusement. “You didn’t have a weapon before, and now you do. Besides, I think the horn really compliments your flowing locks.”

“I could almost say the same,” Warriors snorted. “Flowing locks indeed. Finally the mystery of the pink hair is solved. I wouldn’t have guessed a bunny rabbit would be the cause but you—”

“Now see here—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Time said with a sharp look at the both of them. “Captain, are you feeling all right? We all saw how rough that transformation was.”

“I’m fine,” Warriors mumbled, pawing at the floor.

Twilight glanced back at Sky, who was sniffing at the scratches on his side with a wince on his face. He’d managed to stand by himself though, and so Twilight moved over to Warriors, the captain’s legs still wobbling.

“Relax Captain, we’re going to fix this,” Twilight reassured, and Warriors made another annoyed sound, his tail swishing.

“So long as we don’t need opposable thumbs,” he said. Twilight sighed.

“We’ll manage, Captain. I know this isn’t ideal, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to having four legs,” Warriors said in a sharp voice, and Twilight flattened his ears in annoyance.

“I’m stuck like this too, Captain. Just because I’m more used to four legs doesn’t mean I don’t want my regular ones back,” Twilight snapped, his worry and fear at the whole situation abruptly bursting out. “Now if you’re done arguing with Legend we still don’t know where half our group is, so if you’re able to walk without falling over let’s get going.”

Warriors blinked, obviously taken aback, and Twilight turned away from Time’s frown and stuck his nose up in the air to sniff for any more familiar scents.

The faintest hint of one that wasn’t rock or cave smell wafted by his nose, and Twilight turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint it. He caught a bigger whiff, and gestured with his head.

“I think I found someone else,” he said, and Time hummed in a growly way.

“Are you guys ready to move?” Legend asked, looking askance at both Sky and Warriors. Sky hesitated, his legs still wobbly, but when he walked around in a small circle he was able to keep his footing. Warriors gave a curt nod, his legs looking steadier, and he didn’t look over at Twilight.

Twilight felt a little sting of shame, but he swallowed it back. He could apologize later.

“This way,” he said, turning into the darkness, and the others followed along behind him, Warriors’ hooves clicking against the stone floor.

They kept the pace slow, in respect for both small and unsteady legs. Twilight felt impatience simmer under his fur, but he knew he couldn’t just run ahead. He was currently one of their few lines of defense, and who knew how many monsters might be around down here?

Sky and Legend walked together beside him, Sky asking questions about being an animal, Legend answering as well as he could. Warriors was obviously listening in as well, and Twilight even noticed Time’s ear swivel back when Legend started in on ways he dealt with fights.

Twilight... probably ought to be giving tips as well, he certainly had plenty of knowledge to draw on. But he was intent on following the scent, keeping a nose out for any others, watching for monsters, and also looking for a way out. Legend could handle the crash course in being an animal.

What a disaster.

Twilight sighed and kept sniffling, trying to identify exactly who’s scent it was he was following. He stepped past a couple large rocks that glowed faintly green, and as the scent grew steadily stronger, Twilight suddenly paused, his stomach sinking. Even with the strange overtone to it, he suddenly knew exactly who’s scent he was following.

He bolted, leaving the others behind, knowing the source of the scent was close. Twilight turned a corner, intently sniffing, and sure enough a few moments later his paw bumped into a small, grey-blue creature.

Twilight froze, and lowered himself to the floor, almost not believing what he was seeing.

“Oh boy... champion?” he asked, nuzzling gently at him. Wild don’t move, unconscious, and Twilight gave his head a small lick. “Hey, wake up for me?”

A chirrupy groan came from Wild’s still form, and his eyelids flickered, blues resting hazily on Twilight’s face.

“Mm... Twi?” he mumbled, ears twitching. “Where... ow... why does my whole body hurt?”

Twilight winced. “Well, it ah... might have to do with the fact that you’re a squirrel.”

Wild blinked slowly, his gaze still bleary. He flicked his ears again, twitched his tail once, then jerked to his feet with a completely flabbergasted expression.

“A WHAT?!” he yelped right as the others all rounded the corner and caught sight of him. Legend took one look at Wild’s bushy tail before his face cracked into a huge grin.

“Champion you’re— you’re a squirrel!” Legend spluttered, then burst into uproarious laughter, looking at Wild with pure glee on his face. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Wild screeched, his fluffy tail sticking straight up. He looked a solid mixture of offended and freaked out. “WHAT’S FUNNY ABOUT TURNING INTO A SQUIRREL?!”

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Legend cackled, wheezing as he fell backwards, nearly tripping Sky. “A squirrel! No wonder you’re such a hoarder!”

Legend burst into another peal of laughter, and Wild stumbled backwards, every bit of him tense. Twilight moved towards him, and Wild let out a panicked little chirp.

“Wild, it’s okay,” Sky said, and Wild twitched his nose as Twilight gently nuzzled his head. He could hear Wild’s tiny heart beating like a drum.

“Are you hurt at all?” Time asked, and Wild shook his head, his tail lowering a little.

“No, I’m fine. I just... no. Don’t like this.”

Wild swiped a paw over his face as his nose twitched again, and Twilight very firmly held back the urge to laugh. Now was not the time, even if Wild being a squirrel was admittedly... rather hilarious. At least on par with Legend being a rabbit.

Maybe Farore has a sense of humor.

“Hey, you’ve just gotta adjust,” Legend said as he gave himself a shake, finally getting ahold of himself. “Just think how it could be worse. You could be a bug or something.”

“But I’m a squirrel!” Wild chittered frantically, his tail whirling all over the place. “I’m tiny! I’m defenseless! I can’t even hold a weapon like this!”

“Wow. What a hardship,” Legend said in a deadpan. “Being a small mostly-defenseless woodland creature.”

Wild opened his mouth to retort, then slowly closed it again, staring at Legend like he hadn’t truly looked at him until now.

“Oh. Uh... you’re... a pink blupee thing?”

“A rabbit. We all got transformed, Wild, calm down. I’m sure we'll be able to fix it,” Twilight reassured, and Wild groaned, pulling his tail over his face.

“I hate this. No thank you. Nope.”

“Join the club,” Warriors sighed, and Twilight sat down beside the little ball that was currently Wild, giving him another lick. Wild uncurled a little, looking at Twilight with thinly-hidden panic in his eyes, and Twilight’s chest tightened. Wild rarely looked so rattled.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, and Wild nodded.

“Just sore,” he said quietly. “That transformation was awful. Is... everyone else okay?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t found everyone yet,” Twilight explained with a sigh. “No sign of Hyrule, Wind, or Four.”

“But I’m sure we’ll find them,” Sky said hopefully, his large ears spread wide. “If nothing else I’ll be able to hear them with these big old things.”

Time chuckled, and Wild’s tail flicked around, the champion obviously still distressed. But he took a deep breath and sat up, determination in his eyes. Sky watched Wild’s tail swish around as he studied everybody’s animal forms, Sky’s pupils going wide, and suddenly shot out a paw to bap at it.

Wild jumped, and Sky immediately drew back, spouting apologies.

“Sorry! Sorry It caught my attention and I was just going to watch it but then I... I don’t know why I did that,” he finished in bewilderment.

Time let out a huff from nearby. “Instincts. Never know when they’re going to kick in. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve eaten rocks without thinking.”

Twilight wasn’t the only one who gave him a strange look at that.

Unfortunately none of them got to press the question, since right as Twilight opened his mouth to ask, a loud rumbling sound came from somewhere in the cave, the ground shaking under their feet.

Warriors stumbled, and Sky and Wild both fell over, the cave shaking so violently Twilight wondered if it was about to fall on their heads. He quickly positioned himself over the smallest members of the group, but the shaking abruptly stilled, and the cave went deathly quiet.

Then Twilight growled as a familiar voice suddenly spoke.

“You have all faced the magic and come out unbroken. You have passed the first stage,” the croaking voice echoed through the cave. “The second stage still remains. Survive and we will collect the chosen downstream at the crystal waters.”

“Good luck! I can’t wait for you to finish,” the other voice said excitedly, and Twilight saw Warriors flinch.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Legend growled, and Twilight saw Sky’s claws slide out.

“Return us to our normal bodies!” Warriors shouted, the whinny echoing off the walls.

“I don’t think she can understand you,” Wild pointed out, then raised himself to his hind legs, showing off the sword-shaped patch of white on his belly. “Here— RETURN US TO OUR NORMAL BODIES YOU CULTY FREAKS!”

There was no reply.

“I doubt she liked being called a freak,” Time said dryly.

“Yeah, probably not. But still. Rude,” Legend sniffed. “Guess we’ll just survive phase two then.”

“We need to find the others,” Twilight spoke up, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Now.“

“She said we all survived the magic though, doesn’t that mean they’re all okay?” Wild spoke up, and Sky’s tail flicked worriedly.

“She didn’t say anything about other dangers, though.”

As if summoned, a monster’s howl rang through the tunnels, and everyone stiffened, heads turning toward the sound.

“Wild, Legend, on Twilight’s back, Sky, you sit on Time, we’ll save the most time,” Warriors said quickly, and Legend helped Wild scramble up onto Twilight’s back, Sky carefully moving to sit on Time’s. “I’d... take one of you, but I don’t know how steady I can keep myself.”

“I’ve got them,” Twilight reassured, noticing the frustration on Warriors’ face. Warriors met his gaze, and Twilight lowered his head, ears flicking down. An apology for earlier.

Warriors looked at him a moment, then nodded back, apologizing as well.

Twilight breathed out, a little of the nauseating emotions rolling around in him easing a bit. He may be tired, cold, hungry, in pain and worried, but that was no excuse to take it out on Warriors.

They needed to work together to get out of this mess.

They all rushed off, Warriors having trouble going at a pace much faster than a walk, but pushing himself anyway. That had been a victorious sort of monster cry, and they didn’t have time to waste. Even if Warriors kept tripping on his hooves and barely catching himself.

“So,” Wild said after a minute, and Twilight flicked an ear to show he was listening. “How come you and the old man are wolves while the rest of us are... everything else?”

“I was wondering that too,” Legend spoke up. “...I still think it’s beyond unfair.”

“I don’t know why,” Twilight admitted. “Your form says something about your person, they reflect your spirit... or it does in my case. Even though the circumstances are weird, I’m guessing it’s the same for the rest of you. I guess mine and Time’s just happen to be similar.”

“And I’m a squirrel,” Wild grumbled, and Twilight sighed.

“Yeah. Squirrels aren’t so bad though. They’re hardy, smart, good at climbing, jumping... besides, we can’t all be unicorns,” Twilight pointed out as he hopped over a rock, and Wild and Legend both let out small huffs of laughter.

“I guess not. Still pretty strange there’s so much variety,” Wild hummed. “I would’ve guessed we’d all be wolves.”

He was quiet for several seconds, and Twilight turned his attention back to navigating through the dark cave.

“...Wait a second, if our animal forms reflect us, and Legend is a bunny—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought.”

Wild chittered out a laugh.

His amusement faded when another snarl echoed through the caves though, and Twilight exchanged a glance with Time, trotting even faster. If anyone was hurt because they couldn’t get to them in time, Twilight didn’t know what he would do.

The green rocks increased in frequency around them, the darkness of cave a bit less intense. Twilight could hear water now, and regular grumbles and snorts that sounded like monsters. Time caught Warriors when he tripped again, and they all ran down the sloping passageway.

They turned a corner, and Twilight’s eyes went wide.

An underground stream flowed in front of them, wide, but fast, water a crystalline blue so bright it looked unnatural. More of those green rocks were scattered in and around the water, and though Twilight couldn’t see colors the best as a wolf, he could tell the mix of them was rather pretty.

But more important than the water or rocks was the group of moblins on the other side, one dragging a motionless deer behind it, another trying to bat away something running around by its feet.

“Hey!” Wild shouted, and leapt off of Twilight’s back, rushing over to the stream and attempting to hop across the rocks. His paws skidded on the slippery stone, but he managed to hang on and keep going. Twilight barked for Legend to hold on, and jumped into the water, quickly swimming across.

The water was achingly cold, but Twilight ignored it and Legend’s small squeak of dismay, paddling as fast as he could. The current wasn’t too fast for him, and Twilight leapt onto the shore right as a moblin kicked the small figure at its feet, making it squeal in pain.

Whoever it was went flying, and Twilight lunged for the moblin, teeth bared. Legend clung to his fur as he bowled the moblin over, and Twilight heard Time snarl as well, a different monster screeching in pain.

The disgusting tang of monster blood got in his mouth as he snapped at the moblin, but Twilight didn't let go until it let out a dying gurgle and went limp. He raised his head, watching Time struggle with his own moblin, Sky trying to help where he could, and also saw Warriors hurriedly trying to cross the water beside Wild.

Nobody had reached the moblin dragging the deer by the leg though, and Twilight whirled towards it, leaping at the beast with his fangs bared.

It saw him coming, and dodged his lunge to its neck, Twilight’s teeth closing around its arm instead. It snarled in anger as it dropped the deer, then raised a large club above its head, eyes glinting maliciously. Twilight knew he wouldn’t be able to move in time to avoid it, but then Legend leapt off his back, attaching himself to the moblin’s face and scratching and kicking at it furiously.

It screeched, and Twilight bit it on the wrist, making it drop its weapon. The moblin gave its head a violent shake and Legend went flying, but the opening was what Twilight needed to leap forward and finally bury his teeth in its neck.

He heard a splash behind him, fear ratcheting into his throat, but he couldn’t let go until the moblin fell still and it was stubbornly refusing to do so.

Come on, die already! Twilight thought with a snarl, abruptly twisting his head to the side.

A sickening crack rang out, and the moblin finally fell still, its tongue lolling. Twilight felt a lurch in his stomach at the more violent instinct he’d given into, but he swallowed it back and spat blood from his mouth.

He turned back to the water, and felt a quick flicker of relief as he saw Time standing over Legend's limp form, viciously attacking anything that came nearby. There were only three moblins left now, and Warriors was attempting to handle the other two, Wild goading them on and distracting them while Warriors attacked with his hooves and horn.

Which just left the question of where Sky and the other animal had gone.

Twilight whined anxiously, looking around the bloody shore for any sign of them. There was a lot going on, but he was sure that he would’ve noticed one or the both of them being hurt.

Twilight suddenly saw splashing, and he hurried over to the water, ears pricking as he saw a lithe shape struggling towards the shore, Sky’s large ears visible beside it. Twilight leaned way out, prepared to jump in if necessary, and when both heads dipped below the water, Twilight quickly splashed in and gently snatched them both by the scruff.

He dragged them to shore and set them down, then frantically sniffed the both of them, Sky's scratches reopened, the other animal's tail bleeding.

“Are you two okay?” Twilight barked urgently, and the lithe, creamy colored animal nodded shakily as he scooted closer to Sky.

“I’m good,” Wind’s voice chirped tiredly from it, turning his head so that Twilight got a good look at the swirl of blue on his head and back. “Or good enough. This... is so weird.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, then turned his attention to Sky, the poor remlit panting with exhaustion in a soggy heap on the ground. “You good buddy?”

“Give... me... a sec...” Sky coughed, a shiver running through him.

Twilight nodded, and glanced back at the battle just in time to see a moblin charging for them, eyes crazed.

Wind squealed in alarm and Twilight leapt to intercept the monster, snapping at its neck. Somehow it managed to dodge the attack, and abruptly slammed its club into his side, making Twilight yelp in pain.

He was knocked to the ground, but despite the pain he got back up almost instantly. The moblin was running for Sky, and a feral snarl escaped Twilight as he leapt back at the moblin again. This time he managed to knock it off-balance, and Twilight and the moblin went sprawling to the ground, snarls and the snapping of teeth ringing through the cave as they struggled.

Twilight ignored the sharp ache ringing up his side and focused only on taking down the moblin that had been charging for Wind and Sky. It gave as good as it got, and Twilight was already scratched and kicked and sorely aching when the moblin suddenly raked its claws into his muzzle.

A sharp sting ripped across his face, and Twilight yelped in pain as he reeled back, tears welling in his eyes.

“Twilight!”

Something snapped in Twilight, and despite the sharp pain, he lunged back in again, snapping ferociously at the moblin’s neck. He clawed and tore and shook the monster under him, and it wasn’t until something pressed against his side and shouted his name that Twilight realized the moblin had gone still, and it was silent in the cave once more.

Twilight stumbled back, panting as blood dripped from his face and mouth, staring at the ripped-up moblin below him. It was barely recognizable, and bile rose in his throat, shame and disgust slamming into him. Something suddenly butted gently against his side, and Twilight wearily raised his head, seeing Time looking at him with alarm in his eye.

The older hero was gently supporting him, and Twilight wondered why before he suddenly realized his legs were trembling.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said finally, sitting down with a whine at the pain in his side and face. At Time’s incredulous look, Twilight huffed. “Seriously, I am. Nothing’s broken, just bruised, I can tell.”

“Bruised ribs are no joke,” Warriors said as he walked by, but he didn’t stop to bother Twilight about it further. He was making his way over to the deer, who was still lying ominously still on the ground. Legend at least had stirred nearby, but he looked a little dazed, a paw held close to his chest.

Fear lurched through him and Twilight struggled back to his feet, Time still supporting his side, and he walked slowly over to Legend and the deer.

Time didn’t further question his injuries, but Twilight could feel his gaze on him as they made a brief detour for Twilight to wash some of the blood from his mouth.

I get it old man, you’re worried.

Twilight swallowed, the taste of blood still in his mouth.

I am too.

They made it to where Warriors had gone, and Twilight sat down with a huff, the others all gathered around in a loose circle. Twilight looked around at them all, bloody, disturbed, weary and damp, and lowered his head down to rest on his paws.

Are we anywhere close to getting out of here?

Twilight breathed out slowly, and tilted his head to look at the deer, a light brown and with a few speckles of pale green scattered around on his back and face. Warriors knelt beside him, and gave the deer and Legend both as much of a look-over as he could.

Wind scampered past, his feet making little paps on the floor, and he sniffed at the deer, then looked fearfully at Warriors.

“Is Hyrule okay?” he asked, fur still a little damp.

“Yes, Hyrule is okay,” a voice groaned, and Twilight turned to see the deer raise its head, blinking dizzily. “Ow.”

"Traveler!" Legend and Wind said at the same time, both looking relieved.

“Careful,” Warriors warned, but Hyrule shifted around anyway, moving like he was going to stand up.

He immediately toppled over when he tried, his hooves going everywhere, and Wind let out a sympathetic little noise. Hyrule blinked, attempting to correct himself, and when he failed, stared up at the near zoo standing around him.

“Um. So why do I have four feet and feel like I got doused in dark magic?” Hyrule asked, sounding surprisingly unconcerned. “Also... why’s there a unicorn just standing there?”

“That’s me,” Warriors said grumpily, and Hyrule blinked.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Weird cult ladies, we were dumped in a cave, dark magic stuff,” Legend summarized from where he'd moved to sit beside Sky, and Hyrule nodded, accidentally hitting his antlers on a rock.

“Ow. Yeah... I remember now. I thought I heard Wind when we fell, and I got up to go find him, but then I felt all that dark magic and blacked out,” he reported with a scrunch if his nose. “And now I’m a... deer?"

“Looks like it,” Warriors said, and Twilight heard the grim smile in his voice. “Welcome to the hoof club.” Hyrule looked around, then blinked, staring at the eclectic pile of animals gathered near Sky. "...Is that rabbit wearing a vest?"

Warriors snorted out a laugh, and then attempted to give Hyrule a crash course in who was who, and also how to walk with hooves. While they stumbled around, Twilight took the opportunity to look around at everyone else, making sure they were all still accounted for. Time was beside him still, a few scratches on his leg, some blood staining his muzzle. Legend and Wild were huddled beside Sky, trying to warm him up while Legend nursed his injured paw, and Wind and Warriors were cheering Hyrule on as he tried to raise himself up on wobbly legs.

That meant the only one missing now was Four.

Twilight looked at the stream, remembering the croaky voice’s mention of water. The exit must be somewhere near here if they were going to be... collected, but they couldn’t leave without Four.

Where could he be?

“...okay, so I know Twilight and Time are the wolves,” Wind said, and Twilight looked back to see him moving to sit next to Sky as well. “Wild’s... a thing? Furry thing?”

“A squirrel,” Wild sighed. “And Warriors is the unicorn, Sky is the cat thing I forget the name of, Legend is the rabbit,” he said with a snicker, and Legend glared at him. “And you're a... I actually have no idea what you are.”

“He's an otter,” Legend said grumpily, attempting to tie his vest into a sling with one arm. “They swim around and eat clams.”

“What’s a clam?” Wind asked.

“Shellfish.”

“That’s not very nice of him,” Hyrule said as he wobbled over, and Wild and Wind joined in on his laughter while several of the others rolled their eyes.

“Enough goofing off, we still need to find Four,” Twilight spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. "And any ideas on how we're going to deal with these witches or whatever they are?"

"We head downstream and see what happens I suppose," Time sighed. "Our smithy must have heard that message too, he’ll know where to go."

"He could be hurt though," Wind chirped worriedly, rubbing a paw over his whiskery cheek.

"And what if he was unconscious somewhere and we missed him?" Legend added.

"Twilight or the old man would've smelled him though, wouldn't they?" Warriors pointed out. "Twilight's been looking for scents this whole time, surely he would've gotten some sign of him."

"Wait, what if he got turned into a fish or something?" Wind suddenly gasped, looking at the water. "What if he's down there and—"

"Quiet!" Sky suddenly shouted in a croaky voice, his wide ears held out.

All of them went silent, and Sky swiveled his ears around, looking ruffled, but a little less like a drowned rat as he carefully sat up. Twilight pricked his ears too, and for a moment, all anyone heard was the noise of the stream rushing by, and blood and water dripping softly from wounds.

Then Twilight heard a pained cry so soft he could barely make it out.

"That was Four," Sky gasped, obviously able to make it out better than him. "He... wait."

He pricked his ears, and then his eyes went wide.

"I can hear those women, they have Four!"

Twilight jumped to his feet, biting back a whine of pain as his side sparked angrily. "Then we need to go help him, come on!"

“We can’t just rush in there without a plan,” Warriors whinnied, stomping a hoof. “Rancher you’re injured, Hyrule can barely walk, Sky practically drowned, we need a plan if we’re going to be able to—”

“Then I’m going by myself!” Twilight snarled, and whirled around and took off, ignoring the others’ shouts and cries to come back.

Twilight’s paws pounded against the stone as the others’ voices faded behind him, every step sending a jolt up along his injured side. Blood was drying on his face, sticky and uncomfortable, but Twilight only ran faster, listening for any more signs of Four.

He knew he would need the others’ help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take them on by himself, and Twilight especially knew he was being incredibly stupid by running off alone.

But he didn’t care.

Every moment could matter for Four.

[bayfuzzball7050]

⚠️VOLUME WARNING⚠️

This is about WWM/TA

I’ve been like 3 hours animating exactly 6 seconds

I LOVE YOUR FIC @cassyapper PLEASE IT MAKES ME SO HAPPYA ND SAD AND AAARRRGHHHH

[xxoolii]

i very much view them this way, i really do.

[johnslittlespoon]

8k words of fwb modern college au clegan getting it on at a halloween party for the wota server's halloween event? more likely than u think :)) (posting at the end of the month sry lol)

[buckymorelikefuckme]

sweet, sugar, handyman

steve rogers x bimbo reader

words: 3.9k

warnings: **18 + ONLY** smut, light daddy dom steve, unprotected sex (don’t do that), creampie. if i missed anything pls let me know!!!

a/n: any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & welcomed <3

part 1 ❀

It's been a few days since Steve took you out on a date. Even though he got the clear and undeniable message that you would one hundred percent be down to fuck afterward, he felt that he still wanted to wine & dine you more first. He wanted to work for it; earn it, so to speak. So when the date was done and he opened the door to the cab he hailed for you, he only kissed you goodnight. Admittedly, it did turn into a little bit of a make-out session, which only stopped because the cabbie cleared his throat pointedly.

You were absolutely not making it easy for him though. In the span of four days, you’ve made every possible innuendo when given the chance, and sometimes even said outright explicit things to him. Steve is losing his goddamn mind. He's beginning to question why he’s so hellbent on being a gentleman.

Even at work he’s not able to concentrate. He's had to restock the same shelves three times now because he keeps putting the wrong items in the wrong places.

He’s grumbling under his breath about how fucking pathetic he is when he gets a whiff of your perfume and immediately stiffens.

“Hey there, big boy.”

He has to shut his eyes at the sound of your voice. It’s just so…

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some good hardware around here, huh?”

Teasing. Your voice is sexy, no doubt, and cute in the worst way, but above all it’s teasing. Steve can hear your smile as you speak. He takes a calming breath before slowly turning to meet your siren stare. He doesn't feel any calmer when he gets a look at you.

Your hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, the ends curling upward adorably. Unsurprisingly, your makeup is beautiful, highlighting your features perfectly, and your outfit is nothing short of incredible. You’ve got a cute, little strapless sundress on—pink, of course—with tiny flowers all over, leaving your collarbones and shoulders on display. Steve’s mouth waters, his desire to bite and mark the skin rushing to the forefront of his mind.

A sweet grin spreads across your glossed lips the longer he stares at you like an idiot.

“Steve?”

He blinks, coming back to the present. “Hi,” he finally says.

You giggle. “Hi.”

He clears his throat. “What, um… What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for some tools,” you reply, putting emphasis on the last word in a way that puts Steve on guard right away.

“Well,” he starts, clinging to his sanity, “you’re certainly in the right place.”

You smirk. “Do you think I could get my hands on your tools then?”

Steve curses under his breath and you're giggling again, making him feel a confusing mix of endeared and aroused.

“Why do you do that?”

Steve does not whine. And he didn't whine just now. Nobody can prove it and nobody would believe it.

“Because you make it so easy and it's fun to see you get all flushed,” you answer honestly.

He tries to glare, but even he can tell it's weak. You step into his space, curling your fingers in the belt loops at the front of his jeans, right above his groin, peering up at him through your fluttery lashes. Suddenly, his palms are sweating.

“Steve?” you start softly. He hums in reply, not trusting his voice. “Will you come over tonight?”

“Tonight? To–for what?”

You smile innocently. “I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you?”

He swallows roughly. “N-No, you are, I just… Do I—Should I bring anything?”

You tilt your head as you pretend to think. “You're a handyman, yes?” At his hesitant nod, you grin. “Then all I need is you and your big hands.”

Ah, shit. Steve is in for some trouble, isn't he?

You lean up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He barely resists letting out a groan when your breasts brush his chest. Now he knows you're not wearing a bra because he can feel your nipples through your dress.

“See you later.”

“Uh huh,” he replies dazedly.

Yeah… He’s in deep shit.

~

Steve fiddles with the sleeves of his black henley, the cellophane encasing the bouquet of daffodils in his clammy grip crinkling noisily as he shuffles awkwardly on your doorstep. Inhale for three, exhale for three.

He knocks and waits. It only takes a moment for you to open the door. And then Steve’s stomach promptly attempts to fall out of his ass.

You're wearing a skintight, blood red mini dress, sleeveless and low cut enough to show off your ample cleavage. Your legs, toned and perfect, look positively sinful. You've got on a matching pair of strappy heels, and there, on one of your cute toes, sits a gold toe ring. Why that detail makes his heart race faster is beyond him. Your hair falls in soft waves around your face.

You're glowing as you lean your hand against the doorframe. Steve's never seen you in red before, but damn you wear it well.

“Wow,” he whispers.

You bite your lip to tamp down on your smile. “Thanks. You're pretty wow yourself.” You step aside. “Come on in, handsome.”

There's just enough space for him to squeeze past you. He gets a whiff of your perfume and, fuck, you smell divine. It's not your usual soft perfume that he's gotten used to already; it's something slightly darker, spicier. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

“Are those for me?” you wonder as you shut the door, gesturing at the bouquet.

“Oh,” he says, thrusting them towards you, “Um, yes. For you.”

You take them with a small smile. “Thank you. They're beautiful.”

“So are you,” Steve mumbles shyly.

He's pretty sure he notes the tiniest, pleased curl of your lips and counts it as a win.

You go about putting them in a vase, arranging them just so before placing them on the kitchen counter. Steve watches you flit about your home and something warm spreads throughout his body. When you're not flustering him and making him stumble over his words and feet, you're pretty fucking cute.

“Would you like something to drink? Wine? Water?”

“Water would be great,” he replies

He accepts the glass with a nod of thanks after you hand it to him, taking a sip then sitting it on the table beside him. You stare at each other, Steve assessing while you're happy to just look.

“Why did you invite me over?” he questions.

You shrug. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Slowly, Steve shakes his head, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets.

“Bullshit,” he accuses. “That's not the whole reason.”

“I'm not sure what you mean,” you respond defiantly.

He backs you into the counter, hearing your light gasp and feels his lips twitch. “Don't act coy,” he admonishes. “You didn't wear this dress to sit on your couch and watch a movie.”

He trails a finger along your side, down the fabric of your dress, then toys with the hem of it. He's not sure where this burst of confidence is coming from, but he's going to go with the flow and see where it takes him.

“No, you chose to wear this to drive me crazy. You couldn't just wait a little bit longer.” Your breathing picks up, eyes becoming heavy-lidded as he speaks. “Do I need to teach you how to be patient?”

You remain silent as you hold his gaze, seemingly at a loss.

“What, no smartass remarks? That's a first. This is what you wanted, isn't it? You want me to give in and fuck you like the needy little slut you are, yeah?”

A short, choked off noise escapes you, your expression shocked, and Steve smirks in satisfaction.

“Not so fun on that side of it, huh?” he teases.

You clear your throat and try to gather yourself. “It's not that bad. Maybe you're just a pussy.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You're really testing me. I’m starting to think you want more than just a quick fuck. I think you might need to be bent over my knee and taught a lesson.”

“Fuck, Steve…”

You grab his hand and hurriedly walk out of the kitchen, leading him down the hall. You open a door at the end of it without stopping. Steve finds himself in your bedroom, which is just as frilly and pink as he imagined. You whirl around after you reach your bed, facing him with determination and lust in your eyes.

“I wonder if it's all talk, or if you can actually deliver,” you goad, though your voice does waver.

It's clear you're trying to get a rise out of him, and he would absolutely hate to disappoint you.

“Careful what you wish for.”

In a blink, he's got you wrapped in his arms, lips lightly grazing your neck and shoulder. Your hands fly up to squeeze his biceps as you begin squirming. He presses a whisper of a kiss to your collarbone, smiling at the way you try to push into it more. His lips trail up to your ear where he briefly tugs on your earlobe with his teeth. You whine, tilting your head back to give him more access, but he only lets his breath fan out across your skin for a moment, watching goosebumps appear before pulling back entirely.

“What—” you start, frowning, trying to pull him back to where he was.

“Do you have a safeword?”

You swallow thickly. “I like the color system.”

He nods. “What's your color now?”

“So fucking green, Steve, please just fuck me—”

“You need to learn patience,” he decides. “I'm gonna take my time, gonna explore every inch of your beautiful, sacred body, and you're going to lie there and take it like a good girl. Understood?”

You nod, but that's not what Steve wants. He grips your chin, his fingers and thumb pressing into your cheeks.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. Use your words.”

You exhale shakily. “Understood.”

Steve grins, letting go. “That's a good girl.” You let out a quiet moan. “Now. Where should I begin, hm? Part of me wants to rip this dress right off of you, but another part of me doesn't want to ruin something so stunning.”

You fidget under his observation. He's sure your cheeks are warm beneath your beloved pink blush you always wear. His eyes finally settle on your collarbones, remembering earlier that day and how he wanted to mark them. Without a word, he pushes the straps of your dress down your arms. Then he runs his thumb along the jut of bone, reverent, wondering how and why he got so lucky.

He leans down and attaches his mouth to your skin, sucking and licking and biting until he's positive blood has rushed to the surface under his ministrations. Your small hands are clutching at the sides of his shirt as you moan. And damn, that's a sound he's already growing fond of.

He switches to the other side, biting a matching mark on that collarbone, then decides it's not enough and moves up to the point where your shoulder meets your neck and sucks a mark there too. By the time he's done you're panting and wriggling in a way that tells him you're searching for relief.

“Take the straps off all the way, but don't take the dress off,” he instructs. You're quick to obey and he hums, pleased, when you wait for further direction. “Such a good girl.”

You nod. “Yes.”

As a reward, he pulls down the cups of the dress, exposing your tits to the cool air of your room and watching in delight as your nipples harden. He brushes his thumbs over them, smirking when you twitch and whimper.

“Does my little slut want my mouth on her tits?” he asks as he continues playing with them.

“Yes, please,” you rush to say, “Please, daddy.”

Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click. It's clear you hadn't meant to let that slip.

He pauses, raising his eyebrows. “Daddy? Oh baby, I should've known.” You whine at his mocking tone. “Don't you worry, sweetheart, daddy will take good care of you. Sit down for me.”

Despite your embarrassment, you do as you're told and sit on your bed. Steve kneels on the floor in front of you, pulling you to the edge of the mattress so your tits are directly in his face.

“So soft. So pretty,” he murmurs, cupping them in his hands.

He takes one nipple into his mouth and you let out a high pitched whine, hands coming up to bury themselves in his hair. He gives your nipple the same treatment your collarbones received, sucking harshly and flicking his tongue back and forth. Abruptly, he shifts to the other side, not giving you a chance to catch up. You tug roughly at his hair as you push your chest closer and closer to him.

He pulls off, blowing across your spit-covered breasts, seeing you shiver and whine with a twisted sense of gratification. With a sudden urgency, he determines he needs his mouth on your pussy now. He spreads your legs and pushes up the hem of your dress at the same time. If he wasn't already on his knees, he'd have fallen to them when he sees you're not wearing panties.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he chides, voice gruff.

Your pussy glistens with your wetness and you start squirming as he stares.

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he wonders and meets your desperate gaze.

“Daddy, please, want your mouth.”

He tilts his head. “Where, baby?” You whine again, fingers twitching where they still rest in his hair. He runs his forefinger down your wet slit and you cry out. “Here? You want daddy there?”

“Yes! Please, daddy,” you beg, hips trying to meet his hand.

Steve hums. “I don't know, sweetheart. You weren't wearing any panties. Is that something good girls do?”

You whimper, brows furrowing as you bite your lip and shake your head.

“Think I’m gonna have to spank you, after all.”

“Daddy—”

“Are you gonna be a good girl or not, sweetheart? I can stop here.”

He definitely cannot, but you don't seem to be in the mindset to call his bluff. You whimper loudly.

“No, no, please, I'll be good, daddy, I promise!”

“Color?” he checks in.

“Green,” you reply, eager and breathless.

He grins. “Alright, sweetheart, up you go.”

He rises to his feet and helps you stand before taking your place on the mattress. He pats at his lap, raising an expectant brow. You only hesitate for a second, carefully draping yourself across his lap, making a small noise when you feel his erection pressing into your stomach.

“How many spanks do you think I should give you? Three? Five? Ten?”

You fist your blanket tightly. “However many daddy thinks is appropriate.”

He coos. “Look at that. You can be a good girl. I'll do five this time, okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper.

“Count them out for me,” he directs as he pushes your dress up past your hips, swiping his large hand over your plump ass.

He lifts his hand and brings it back down in a firm smack. With a wicked grin, he watches your ass jiggle with the impact. The only sound you let out is a small gasp.

“One,” you mutter shakily.

Each time he spanks you, he soothes the sting by softly rubbing his hand along your heated flesh.

As he lands his fifth and final spank he's almost upset to be finished. But then he pulls your ass cheek to the side and leans over to look at your dripping pussy, and his mouth waters with want.

“Five,” you whine, squirming, fists clenching and unclenching.

Steve hums. “Perfect.”

“Daddy…”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he coos.

He maneuvers your pliant body until you're on your back, legs dangling off the edge as he makes himself comfortable between them again.

“Since you were good for me, I’ll give you a reward,” he murmurs, pushing your thighs apart and back so you're on full display for him.

You're already writhing on your bed and he hasn't even touched you properly. It makes his cock throb where it's pressing against his zipper. God, he wants to fuck you, and he fully plans on it, but he has to taste you first or he’ll go crazy.

With that thought in mind, he leans in and sucks on your clit, making you inhale sharply and arch your back. He kisses your pussy sloppily, letting your wetness coat his tongue. He groans deep in his chest; you taste unlike any other and he's on the fast-track to becoming addicted.

“Daddy,” you whine, tugging at his hair, “daddy, please, please fuck me.”

He ignores you for a moment, thrusting his tongue in and out of you, bringing his fingers down to rub messily at your clit. You cry out, a sob forcing itself out of you.

“Steve,” you plead.

Reluctantly, and with a final suck and lick, he pulls his mouth away from your delicious cunt. He stands to his full height and quickly removes his clothes, eyes never leaving your prone form. The way you're spread out is indecent, downright sinful, and the way your stare is already going glazed makes his spine tingle.

When he shoves his boxer briefs down and frees his cock, he sighs in relief. You moan at the sight of it, spreading your legs even wider.

Steve gives you a half grin, stroking himself, “Want daddy’s cock, sweetheart?” You nod, which makes him raise an eyebrow in expectance. “Words, darlin’. Use them.”

“Yes, please,” you whimper.

“Please what?” he taunts, joining you on the bed, manhandling you so that your legs are no longer hanging off.

He makes no move to finish removing your dress or your heels.

“Please, daddy,” you groan.

“Good girl,” he intones. He kisses the inside of one of your knees. “Condom.”

You lick your lips, biting them anxiously. “Can I… I wanna feel daddy’s cum drip out of me,” you whisper, your eyelids getting heavier.

“Jesus,” Steve exhales. “Are you sure? Color?”

“Green, it's green,” you assure quickly.

You're gonna be the death of him.

He pushes two fingers in your cunt without warning and you whine, long and loud enough that he wonders if your neighbors can hear. Part of him hopes they can.

“Mm, so tight with only two of my fingers inside you,” he observes, teasing, “Are you sure you can take my cock?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, “Please, daddy. Wanna feel you split me open, wanna feel full.”

He groans. “Fuck, baby. You're not just a slut, are you? You're a cockslut. A greedy one at that.”

“Yes, yeah, ‘m a cockslut,” you hurriedly agree, “your little cockslut.”

The flare of possessiveness that spreads throughout him is sudden and ignites his desires even more.

“Mine, huh? I like the sound of that.”

He teases the head of his cock along your slit, loving the way you squirm and whimper but still wait so patiently. Finally, he takes mercy on you and pushes in. Your mouth falls open on a silent moan, your eyebrows scrunching together in the sweetest way. Steve groans deep in his chest as he sinks deeper and deeper into your tight, wet heat. When his hips are flush against yours, he only waits a beat before pulling out and thrusting right back in, setting an immediate, steady rhythm that has your knees hiking higher and higher on either side of him.

You're restless with pleasure, unable to be still, head tossing from side to side, hands grappling at nothing and everything. Steve is so big inside you, hitting all the right spots, plus some you didn't even know about. A constant flow of moans, whimpers, and pleas fall from your bitten lips. A light sheen of sweat covers your neck and chest, your nipples hardened into peaks.

“God, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, watching the way his cock slides in and out of you.

You nod in agreement. “My–oh–my pussy was m-made for you,” you whine. “Fit me just right, daddy, fuck! Never… Never had anyone feel this perfect.”

“Yeah? Is daddy ruining you for everybody else?” Steve goads.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, don't want anyone else, ever, please,” you beg, hips twitching up into his next thrust.

Your heels bite into the skin on Steve’s back, but he welcomes the pain. He wants to wear your marks just as much as he wants you to wear his. He thrusts into you harder, loving the way your back arches beneath him, the way your tits bounce with the movement.

You're about a million percent sure if Steve changed the position now you'd punch him in the throat, but you're also just as sure that he knows this, if the way he's looking at you is any indication. His eyes are sparkling, lips tilted up on one side. The apples of his cheeks are pink from exertion, and it makes you bite your lip.

Steve cups his hands under your knees, pushing them up and open more, adjusting the angle of his thrusts just so and making you nearly scream.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chant, “Steve, daddy, fuck!”

He grins at your babbling, feeling you clench around him as you near your climax. He's not far behind, heat pooling in his lower abdomen quickly. He lets go of your legs, letting them drop to his sides, reaching down to hold your pussy lips open as he spits on your clit. A ragged moan comes from you at the action. Wondering how far he can push, Steve lightly slaps your clit, and fuck. You cry out and clench around him so tight he has to pause.

“Again, again, please, daddy, do that again, don't stop,” you ramble, words blurring together.

Steve does it again. And again. And again. Until you're clamping down on his cock, body locking up as your orgasm hits, your breath halting. But then you're jerking, letting out a throaty gasp, followed by long whines as you ride out what's got to be an intense high. The sight alone is enough to bring Steve to completion, grinding into you as his cock throbs and releases inside you. He groans, closing his eyes, feeling beyond sated and happy.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

Steve huffs a laugh. “Agreed.”

He looks down at you and you’re the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hair is splayed out messily around your face, some pieces sticking to your clammy cheeks and forehead, the sheen of sweat making you glow in the low light of your bedroom. Your eyes are still heavy-lidded, but you're smiling in complete bliss, arms stretching above you.

“That was incredible,” you rasp. Your smile goes wonky. “Thank you, daddy.”

His cock twitches where it's still buried inside you and you giggle.

“You're a menace,” he accuses, the gentle way he brushes your hair off your face softening the accusation.

You preen. “Yep! But you like me anyway.”

Steve sighs heavily. “God help me, I do.”

[youremyonepiece]

anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[complexraspberry]

Roku Week Day 4: Ta Min

[id: a digital illustration. The top half of the drawing has Roku sitting on the edge of the bed, back onto the viewer. He's looking fondly down at Ta Min who is lying down and hugging his lower back, keeping him from getting up. The bottom half shows chibi versions of both characters. Roku holds his hands in front of him with a devious smile while Ta Min, looking more awake and dishevelled, points accusingly at him with the text 'No bending in the bedroom' above her. /End id]

I enjoy all the headcanons I've seen of these two and think they make a cute couple. Can't wait to learn more about her. This was inspired by @azuzula's fic