#this has been sitting on my drafts for so long...

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

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“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think���” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don���t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

[cupidsdolll]

pairings: best friend!Harry x fem!reader

summary: Y/N's having a bad day and who better to help than her best friend

word count: 2.2k

authors note: hi hello!! here’s something that’s been sitting in my drafts for a whileeeee while i work on chapter three! :) hope you enjoy!!

TW: for a mention of self harm but the only thing she does is pinch her arms over and over again, please read with caution or don’t read if it triggers you or make you uncomfortable. i love you❤️

----

Y/N’s always been such a happy person, always there for all her friends, always having a smile on her face and making sure her friends are okay. She’s always been that one friend that no matter what time it is, she’ll always be there to lend a listening ear and provide the needed solace. 

She’s always been that friend that’ll give the ones she cares about the last of her anything, always willing to give the last of her money to help a friend in need, willing to give the clothes off her back if it was necessary. She’s just a giver by nature. She’s always been the friend to go to whenever you need advice, always taking care of her friends, giving them whatever’s needed. 

Because she’s grown to be able to mask her emotions, it’s hard to tell whenever she’s not able to fully give as much, whenever she starts feeling down and gets in her head. No one notices as she starts becoming quieter, smaller, less. 

She very rarely has bad days, her sunshine personality weeding its way through the dark clouds and allowing her to smile and laugh her way through the day. It’s easy to forget why her day was bad when she’s around friends, but it’s especially easy when she’s around him. Her best friend, her right hand man, her everything in a sense. 

Her and Harry had become friends when she stumbled into him and spilled her tea all over his cream flared pants and she over-apologized until he laughed it off and rubbed her head gently. After that, they became inseparable, always attached at the hip. They were close, close enough to where whenever they were out by themselves they were constantly asked how long they’ve been together, they were constantly mistaken for a long term couple. At the question, they’d both blush softly and deny the question by laughing and shaking their heads as they smile and say they’re just friends. 

They’ve always been just friends and neither have entertained the thought of becoming more, not seeing the point of appeasing everyone else as long as they were happy. He’s always noticing her, takes in the small details and keeps them all in a special folder in his brain and his heart. 

He notices how she’ll sway lightly in her seat whenever she’s happy, he notices how her nose scrunches whenever she genuinely laughs, he notices how she never leaves without a hug and ‘I love you’, how she puts her hand over a sharp corner when her friend bends down to get something, how she makes sure to never split the pole and to always give a little snack to any cat or dog she sees on the street. 

He also notices when she starts distancing herself in conversation, how her lip will quiver and her eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit when she’s upset but can’t sneak away, he notices that when she starts playing with her rings that means she’s in her head or she’s uncomfortable, he notices how her glossy eyes will lose the light in them whenever she’s having a bad day. He notices things that she doesn’t even notice in herself and he prides himself in knowing her so well. 

She’s his complete other half, his soulmate, he can’t imagine his life without her and refuses to even think about that. He can just feel whenever her energy shifts ever so slightly and he’s always been there to help her. 

But he knows that when she has the bad days she prefers to deal with it alone, she’ll start excusing herself from the friend group when she’s asked to hang out. Her most used excuse is she’s on her period and her cramps are just killing her, and he knows that’s when it’s bad, when her pain is at its worst and she can’t bother to attempt to mask. 

Her body aches, she can feel the pain rooting itself deep in her bones, she’s tense as her muscles scream at her. Her bloodshot eyes sting painfully as fat and heavy tears stream down her pink cheeks, her lips chapped no matter how many times she licks them. She can feel her head pounding and throbbing from how long she’s been crying, her throat sore and tight as she hiccups. 

Her arms are beginning to form a slight hue of red and she can feel bruises beginning to form as she pinches them quickly, trying to distract her mind from the intense feelings of her own emotions flooding through. The muscles in her stomach are tense and uncomfortable at the amount of heavy sobs and pants that flow through her body and out of her plump lips. 

She can’t remember what triggered all of this, her brain too fuzzy to even remember if she grabbed her list to ground her. As she cries and screams into the empty space, she can feel her lungs expand as she breathes, she can feel the light touch of her loose tank top brush lightly against her skin, she can feel the loose strands of hair brushing against the back of her neck. 

She feels as if she can’t breathe, it feels like her bedroom is caving in on her, the small room only seeming to grow smaller and smaller as her breath gets stronger and shaky. Her hand scrambles around her messy bed, searching for the list containing ways for her to calm down and a shaky sob racks through her body when she realizes she can’t find it. 

She closes her eyes tightly as she brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, burying her face into her legs she can’t help as she shakes her head. She doesn’t know how long this has been going on, how long she’s trapped herself in her room, but she hopes it’ll be over soon. 

She grabs her phone from her beside table and with shaky hands she unlocks it and clicks on her messages app. She quickly taps on the conversation she’s looking for and attempts to write out a message. 

——

Sweet Girl: H, can u come over please

She doesn’t have to wait long for a response from him as her phone dings a couple seconds later.

Haz: Of course sweet girl. Do you need/want me to bring anything for you? Some food maybe?

Sweet: Girl: if u want, just want you rn

Haz: Ok bug. I’m gonna get us some food and then I’ll be over. See you soon x

Sweet Girl: kay, thanks H. love u

Haz: I love you sweet girl, just try to breathe for me, I won’t be too long and I’ll use my key so you don’t have to get up. 

——-

As she tries to focus on her breathing, attempting to take slow and deep breaths, she wipes her face to clear away the tears on her cheeks. She sniffles and wraps her arms around her torso gently as she lies in her bed, the soft material and warmth from her cover enveloping her and makes her smile softly. 

She’s only able to enjoy a couple moments of peace before another painful sobs rack through her body. She sobs into her pillow, the pain searing through her body as the tears stain her cheeks.

She hates this, she hates not knowing why she’s so upset, she hates everything to do with her bad days. She wishes she was able to ask for the help she needs but she’s so much of a people pleaser, she can’t bear the thought of not being there for her friends when they need her. 

A soft knock at her bedroom door jolts her gently from her thoughts. She quickly tries to wipe her face from any tears and snot streaks before telling the person to come on. Her door squeaks softly as it opens and his face appears in the small space. 

As he walks into her small bedroom, he smiles sadly at her in which she returns the favor. Her eyes light up just a bit when she spots the brown takeout bag with her favorite Mexican restaurant logo printed onto the cheap plastic. He leans down and kisses her forehead before sitting down on her bed gently and placing the bag next to him. 

“Hi” she whispers and he smiles 

“Hi, feelin’ any better?” He says and she nods 

“Not really, thank you for uh coming over” she says as she leans her head on his shoulder.

He hums softly as he wraps one arm around her shoulder and squeezes once. 

“Y’know m’always gonna come. You don’t have to thank me. Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently and she shakes her head lightly.

“Not much to talk about, dunno why it happens. I just get really sad out of nowhere.” She closes her eyes gently as she relaxes into his hold. 

He nods in response and they sit in silence for a couple minutes before he reaches over to the bag and holds it out to her. 

“Here, you should eat it before it gets cold.” She smiles in response as he nudges her hand with the bag. She thanks him quietly as she grabs the bag from him, smiling bashfully she begins to open the bag and the styrofoam box inside. 

As she eats in silence, she’s not able to eat as much as she normally would. She takes a couple decent sized bites before she begins to move the food around. 

“M’gonna put this in the fridge, I’ll be back.” He says quietly as he makes a way to grab the box, she sighs softly before looking at him. 

“Sorry..” he shakes his head in return.

“Don’t be sorry lovie. M’proud of you for eating as much as you did.” He says before walking out and setting the box in the fridge before walking back to her room. 

As he comes back into her room, he hums a soft song as he makes his way to her bed and wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly. He kisses the top of her head before whispering into her ear. 

“M’so sorry you’re feelin’ like this lovie. But you’re not alone okay? You have so many people who care for you and love you.” He can hear her sniffle softly and be squeezes her once. 

“Not your fault Haz. I know I’m not alone but I don’t wanna burden anyone.” She says and he shakes his head.

“You’re never gonna be a burden. We want you to be happy, be okay, we want you to not have to suffer alone. All of us worry about you, it’s okay to ask for help, angel. We’re not gonna judge you.” Her quiet tears slowly become louder as he speaks, she shakes her head and he rubs her back.

“It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be in pain. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to accept the love you give out, angel. You give and give and give to everyone else, and I know you don’t give yourself the love and energy you deserve.. let us love you how you love us, let us help you. Let us care for you. We’re not gonna judge you sweet girl.” He says and she grabs his t-shirt tightly before sobbing into his chest. 

She can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting his shirt as she cries into him. She can’t find it to be embarrassed at how loud she’s being and how she looks, not with his hand rubbing small circles on her back and how his words have sparked a sense of warmth in her stomach. She can feel it fluttering throughout her body while he whispers all these soft and sweet words in her ear. 

She can’t remember how long she’s been crying, and she goes to move away from him and he stops her. 

“Y’okay now? You don’t have to move if you’re not ready yet.” She nods before scooting closer to him, their thighs mashed together and her head resting on his shoulder as he rubs her shoulders softly. 

They stay like that, sitting in the comfortable silence for a while before she yawns softly and catches his attention. 

“Y’tired?” He asks and she nods 

“Sorry you spent your day with a crying mess.” She says with a sad chuckle.

“You’re my best friend Y/N. I’d gladly spend however long with you no matter if you’re sad or happy. As long as you’re okay, I’m happy. Want me to stay with you tonight?” He asks and she shakes her head. 

“Uh uh, go have fun with your other friends. I think I’m okay now. Thank you for everything H.” She says as she squeezes him softly before moving to the head of her bed and getting under the covers. 

“Text or call me if y’need anything angel. I mean it.” He says and goes to tuck her in, resulting is a soft giggle to breeze past her lips.

“Okay, dad. I love you.” She says a smile playing on her lips as he leans forward and kisses her forehead.

“I love you sweet girl. Sleep well and have sweet dreams.”

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @cuips-not-cute! cuips_not_cute has six fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @cuips-not-cute:

he could be brave

blood is an aphrodisiac

honeyed affection

blinking red light

cyclical

"cuips is a master of taking the reader on an emotional roller coaster ride. The amount of times I've laughed and cried at the same time reading his fics have been too numerous to count. Especially the depth of the sex scenes and the character beats and growth they portray are gorgeous to read - and also very titillating. I love Steve and Eddie in every one of cuips stories, adore the little mannerisms they are given and the way they interact with each other and other characters. Besides the inspiring prose cuips can pull off a plot like few other people I've found so far - since blinking red light is still ongoing, I'll just point to cyclical for that. I'm very thankful to cuips for writing and posting these stories and for being a very active part of this lovely fandom." -- anonymous

Below the cut, @cuips-not-cute answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

i don’t even know. i was happily in the ofmd fandom when i watched season 4 almost three years ago now (oh god) and then the characters… they got me. i fear they’ll never leave.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

god, so many. they’re all kinda the same flavor though so i’ll list out what i’m always filtering for to find a new fic: bottom/sub eddie, creature/monster eddie, post s4, canon compliant, soft dom steve, sex pollen, spit kink, rimming (perhaps my FAVORITE ever thing to read), switch eddie/switch steve… the list goes on.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

probably also rimming. there’s just something so romantic about eating ass. and i really love to stick with post s4 canon compliant aus, too, i don’t think i’ve written an actual for real au yet, though i do have an idea for one after brl.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

i don’t know if i can pick!! my ao3 bookmarks host my many all-time faves, but if you wanna go by the fic i’ve reread the most it’s probably the affliction of the feeling. it’s so fucking good.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES!!! i have never written omegaverse!!! which is crazy, ‘cause i like it a LOT. i have a post-s4 omegaverse au kicking around in my head currently, and i cannot wait to sink my teeth into all the messy biology and politics that come with the omegaverse.

What is your writing process like?

chaotic, in a word. usually, i’ll get a fic idea while i’m balls-deep in writing another fic so i’ll shove it to the side and let it simmer while i finish that first one, then i’ll spend a good long while planning it out in ridiculous detail, and THEN i’ll start actually drafting. i like to have a fully fleshed out outline and a couple chapters written and edited before i start posting, and once posting begins i tend to deviate quite a bit from my outline but it’s all good fun.

Do you have any writing quirks?

definitely. i don’t like pointing them out for fear of other folks seeing them in everything i do, but they’re there. one that i don’t mind so much is my absolute abuse of the word “little.” everything is “a little�� of this, “a little” of that, but i try to cut my usage down significantly while i’m editing.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

i always TRY to keep a schedule but… yeah. it never works. i’m far too busy for one, but attempts are made. i’d like to one day write a fic in full before posting it, because i think it’d be a whole lot better if i let it sit for that long but lord, i sure do like getting ao3 comments on every chapter. they make the writing motivation go WAY up.

Which fic are you most proud of?

brl, definitely. that fucker is LONG and i’m barely halfway through it. i think i’ve done a lot of cool things with it and i’m going to do some more cool things and i’ve made a lot of really awesome friends in the process of writing it so it’s got some pretty insane sentimental value to me. it’s definitely going to be a fic i’ll miss writing once i finish it, but that’s what the epilogue series is for!!!

How did you get the idea for blinking red light?

from another fic!!! @racketghost is the author of one of my favorite things i’ve ever read, which is the good omens zach and miri au, closed set (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320960/chapters/55862155 <- hyperlinked), wherein crowley has been lying about the existence of some angelic sex tapes to all of hell, and then he and aziraphale have to actually make the tapes. it’s awesome. it’s gorgeous. brl is one big giant love letter to this fic, because it means so fucking much to me and i think about it ALL the time. 

When writing honeyed affection, what was something you didn’t expect?

hmm, i don’t know? ha is, i think, a pretty easygoing fic with lots and lots of porn stuffed inside it, and that was all i intended it to be so i cannot think of anything i was surprised by!!

What inspired blood is an aphrodisiac?

i just wanted to write vampire eddie. it was july ‘22, kas theories were everywhere, i had to try it. these days i think i would change a LOT about it because my ideas and hcs surrounding the characters have evolved significantly, but i’ll write vampire eddie again and “fix” everything i no longer like about biaa.

What was your favorite part to write from he could be brave?

…the fisting. i genuinely think some of my best writing is in that scene, and while i feel the same way about this fic as i do biaa, the fisting scene will always hold a special place in my heart. i’m very, very excited to write the fisting chapter in brl because of this scene. fisting rules.

How do/did you feel writing cyclical?

i wrote cyclical during a very weird few months of my life, so writing it was sort of my way of dealing with all the insane shit going on around me, and i think it shows. in a good way, though, because cyclical is a timeloop fic so it needed to be a little angsty and insane. i’m stupidly proud of that fic. @ryeallytired actually BOUND it into a PHYSICAL BOOK and SENT IT TO ME and when i tell you that is the singular most precious object i own, i mean it.

What was the most difficult part of writing blinking red light?

PLOTTING THAT BITCH. GOD. i’m so happy to be actually WRITING it now, the planning was genuinely so brutal. my issue was that i was sticking too close to the plot of closed set (<3) which just… did not work for steddie. closed set’s premise centers around crowley lying about making sex tapes, yes, but he lied about them to PROTECT aziraphale, which is the messiest, kindest, riskiest fucking thing ever. and it’s awesome. in the early planning stages of brl, i was trying to put eddie in the crowley role of lying about having made sex tapes with steve, but it reallyyy didn’t work. there was an oc and i absolutely hated him, plus i didn’t like what that premise was doing to eddie’s character… ugh. it was a MESS. it took several rubber duck-ing conversations with my brilliant friend @lollaika and a rewatch of zach and miri to finally realize that it had to be STEVE who brings up the idea of sex tapes so that he could protect eddie, rather than eddie bringing it up to save his own hide (yikes).

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

oooh, lots. reallyyyy loved chapter 8 of cyclical with all of the pov shifts, that was super fun to write. i also really enjoyed writing the dry humping/sex tape convo in the first chapter of brl, and i’m stupidly excited to write chapters 12, 13, 15, and 17, because of specific scenes that will happen in each.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

i do!! after brl is completed i’ll have to choose from two story ideas (because i cannot have two wips at once or i’ll get SO stressed), one being a semi-realistic steddie cowboy au based off my own experiences with growing up on a farm and featuring messy, earnest cowboys and not-fully-human eddie, and the other being the omegaverse au i want to write, which will have a very fun mix of vampire eddie, dubcon bitching, and accidental mating bites!!!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

i cannot think of anything!! this was super fun :D

Thank you to our author, @cuips-not-cute, and our anonymous nominator! See more of cuips_not_cute's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[florieta]

　　　　　⚘　　🎄❁　make my wish come true

　　　　⚘　　🦌❁　all i want for christmas is you

this has been sitting in my drafts for so long.

[nataliesscatorccio]

What do you think is going to happen in season 3?

i've been sitting on this ask for a long time continuously adding to it (and retracting from it) in my drafts with every re-watch, and i want to post it now that filming has started for season 3 before any behind the scenes, announcements, or promo can sway my thoughts.

1. akilah will wear the pink converse, implying she is one of the final survivors. i don't think it will happen until later in the season, so an adult casting wouldn't come until season 4 imo

2. travis and shauna will hook up. i think the reasoning here is pretty straightforward, but i will go a step further and say one of them will be wearing the virginity dress at the time (and i actively hope it won't be shauna)

3. callie will be responsible for jeff's death in the same type of "avoidable but fated" way shauna killed jackie, setting callie and shauna up to confront themselves and each other and the parts of themselves that are each other (and jackie) in a new suburban wilderness. i always go back to the pilot, and i can't ignore shauna threatening jeff that she'd raise the baby out of spite to become a killing machine that hunts him down if he got her pregnant.

4. misty is doing something weird with nat's remains. i'm leaning more towards snorting the ashes than cannibalism though

5. and if i'm wrong about akilah's pink converse, then i think she'll refuse the card draw and face those consequences

And about a hundred other little things, but these are the points i keep coming back to. we'll see!!!!! 💛🐝💙

[bunni-v1]

hi! congratulations on 500 followers! could you make the full nsfw alphabet list with Idia please? (sorry for the bad English)

🍓I POSTED!!! I've had this sitting in the drafts for a week and I finally decided to post it (YAY!!!). I've also got Jade's qued up for later today, and I'll be working on Azul and Floyds in my free time (when I get free time that is). Sorry I took so long to post, life has been tough on me and I just didn't have the tools to deal with it. I'll be back and posting irregularly until December when I can actually take time and write again.

Idia NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare: Idia Shroud is the WORST at aftercare, and I say this with so much love and kindness to the walking punching bag that calls himself a man. Genuinely though, sex overstimulates him so badly, so he cannot handle anything after the fact. He’s the kind to roll over off you (more like slide you off him) and fall asleep immediately. Of course, he mumbles out something about it feeling good and all that stuff, but 9 times out of 10 he’s out like a light.

B = Body part: He is a thigh man. He doesn’t care if it's thick and meaty, he just wants to rest his head on it. Maybe give it a nibble, if you’d let him of course (consent is key, even for a dirty Otaku like him). For him… he doesn’t like most things about himself, but if you seem to like something about him a lot, he grows to like it too. So if you like his hair, it’s probably his hair, if you like his lips or teeth it’s them. (What can I say, he’s weak for you).

C = Cum: SALTYYYYY! He doesn’t take care of himself what did you expect. It’s unpleasant to taste, and there’s A LOT of it to taste. It’s a pretty thick consistency and really sticky, fun to play with and watch dribble down your stomach and face. 

D = Dirty secret: He wants you to peg him. I wouldn’t say that’s much of a secret, but he thinks it is. 

E = Experience: NONE. Zip, zero, zilch. I make fun of Malleus for being a Virgin, but IDIA IS A VIRGIN. He’ll blush to hold your hand, it’s that bad. However, he does watch a LOT of Porn (Hentai specifically), so he has… an idea of what to do. He’s really nervous first time around, but once he gets comfortable with you he’s pretty good, just a little unrealistic in his expectations sometimes.

F = Favorite position: Doggy! Especially if you’re wearing cute little puppy or kitty ears! He likes watching the way your back arches, and he’s a big fan of pulling your hair or squeezing your hips. Other than that, he loves face-sitting. Surrounded by your thighs, oh that’s a good death for Idia Shroud.

G = Goofy: Initially, he is entirely on accident. He wants to be serious and cool about it, but he’s like a blushing schoolgirl and making a million mistakes. His line delivery is so… cringe and embarrassing you can’t help but laugh. It humiliates him, but eventually, he learns to just embrace it, and he becomes pretty goofy. He loves cracking jokes just to see you smile, cause the one thing he loves more than your thighs has to be your pretty little smile.

H = Hair: I know it’s blue flames too, I just know it. That shit is not tamed either. Like he trims, but honestly it’s hard to control something that's constantly shifting and changing. And, before you ask, yes it does flare up with his emotions like his hair does too. 

I = Intimacy: Depends… Idia isn’t someone I would ever describe as romantic, but he is a sweetie. He likes it hard and rough so it’s hard to say it’s very romantic, but he does like you close and he loves looking at you. You catch him smiling down at you like you’re some kind of goddess sometimes. You won’t catch him saying cheesy lines like how much he loves you or how pretty you are (cause it will actually kill him if he does).

J = Jack off: Mastrubating champ of NRC. He’s alone in his room 90% of the time with unlimited access to the internet and is also an Otaku. Sorry if you disagree, but you’re wrong. I know he gets off at least once a day, more if he has the time. 

K = Kink: Another biter, he just loves marking you up and sending you off with a pretty bruise for everyone to see. He’s a sadomasochist too, depending on whose topping. He wants you to push him around and hit him, make him feel helpless, it’s his favorite thing. Also into pet play, cosplay, roleplaying, and… any kind of play honestly. The weirder the better for him.

L = Location: His room and his room alone. Maybe yours, but he does not trust anyone in your dorm to respect your privacy. Besides, if he’s in his room he knows where everything is, and he can ensure no one will be getting in and seeing you that way.

M = Motivation: Most things, honestly. Be nice to him? He’s hard. Be mean to him? He’s hard. Beat him in his favorite game and act all smug (he let you win)? He’s hard. Lose and pout about it? He’s hard. He’s a sensitive guy, okay, and he thinks everything you do is super hot. Not his fault.

N = No: Share or let someone watch. Absolute nos from him. The idea of sharing you with someone and you like them more? Hah, he’d kill himself. He’s also not a fan of anyone seeing either of you in such a compromising position. He’s too nervous and possessive to let that out of the privacy of his room. Also, this might be controversial, but I can’t see him being into any kind of sibling shit. Too weird for him, he’d never want to think of his precious little brother like that, so why would he want to think of you like that?

O = Oral: He prefers receiving because watching the way you tease him with your sultry gaze as he sinks impossibly further down your throat is… heavenly. Though he isn’t bad at giving either. His tongue is long and boy can that thing move, it can reach places you didn’t even know were possible. Plus his teeth nipping at your most sensitive areas? Praise the seven, that’s good shit.

P = Pace: Fast and rough. He likes to just go at it, and he doesn’t like to stop for anything. Prepare to be pounded into next week with no stops!

Q = Quickie: He likes them, and they’re pretty common, but they’re not his favorite. When he has sex, he likes going for more than one round, and the whole point of quickies is that they’re quick so he doesn’t prefer them.

R = Risk: Yeah, he’s game to try some more risky things, but he’ll back out so fast if he’s uncomfortable for even a second. There are some things he wouldn’t consider, like bringing it out of his room. He’s a big fan of risky texts though. Like, a video of you fucking yourself in the bathroom while he’s in a meeting with the other housewardens? No one’s gonna know if he takes care of himself quickly. 

S = Stamina: He goes for multiple fast and quick rounds. He can usually do about four of them before he’s done for the night, but he’s willing to keep going if he doesn’t satisfy your needs along with his (sometimes).

T = Toys: He has a collection, actually, of really wild shit. Tentacles, ‘alien’ dicks, and even the infamous horse cock. He likes to put a bullet in you and control it from his room, watching you struggle to talk to your friends on the cameras he’s definitely allowed to have access to. 

U = Unfair: He likes to tease, but he forgets to sometimes lol. He gets so caught up in his own pleasure that, occasionally, he’ll just forget he wanted to tease you and make you all sensitive and whiny. He also likes to be teased, so please feel free to torture him when you’re topping <3

V = Volume: He tries very hard to be quiet, but bless his soul he is not. He’s so whiny and whimpery and pathetic, it’s very cute. He wants you to make as much noise as possible so that he can hide his shame, but he’ll still cry into your ear since he can’t contain himself.

W = Wild card: He sometimes prints out the pictures you send to him (with permission) and keeps them in his desk. There’s no real reason why, because he has all of them digitally, but something about having physical pictures is more thrilling to him.

X = X-ray: Hehehe, oh Idia. It is long and it is thick, bless his dad’s genetics. I’m talking like almost seven inches big, like… he’s big. It’s veiny, with one really prominent one on the top that runs from the base to just below his tip. Which, by the way, is blue like his lips. 

Y = Yearning: High, if that wasn’t made obvious before. He craves sex a lot, and it only seems to get worse after he gets with you. You’re just so pretty and perfect he can’t help it <3Z = Zzz: I said it at the start, but it’s near immediate. He gets tired easily after all that physical exertion, he just wants to nap and cuddle, you can clean up in the morning. Let him hold you :(

[0catiiyori0]

some headcanons for @zeivira's crack au "No sleep for the wicked" that is invading my head and is living rent free and is stoping me from writing my own au (and study) so ya let me release the drain

I honestly can't stop thinking abt how garfiel would first react to Subaru's "illness". maybe because I don't know if the information that the witch cult members are also always sleepy is widely known, but if it is- my boi Subaru must have the strongest coffee in his disposal because that boy won't be sleeping for 3 days straight (or was it two?). I imagine that he'll sleep the first two loops but then his scent is so strong and to add to that his sleeping "illness" would make ryuzu's alarm bells skyrocket and it'll be way too harder than the og white rabbit loop lmao. but if it isn't I think that'll make garfiel think of Subaru to be way less harmless. can't really do anything if he's unconscious for a couple of hours everyday ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯. but i don't think he'll sleep anyway in the winning loop, just like in canon the difference is that he'll keep trying to stay awake for as long as he can. and when things calm down beatrice would force him to sleep and then garfiel would panic cuz he beat the shit out of him, him the same person who he has gained respect for and now after all that he had done turns out he has the same deadly illness that took the Royal family yet is doing miracles, I used to think that garfiel won't be able to stan subaru more than he already does, but that? ya well I'll be damned if he didn't.

now I didn't read the novels cuz I'm waiting for season 3 to end but I've gotten spoilered pretty good to know the general idea of what's going to happen (cries) . so rainhard, MY BOI IS GOING TO BE SO SAD THAT HE DIDN'T KIDNAP SUBARU WHEN HE HAD THE CHANCE LMAO. like yeah he was able to find the supposedly last royal member alive (*cough*we will act like cappella doesn't exist*cough*) and he's happy to serve them again, but Subaru has the same illness that took them in the first place, so i think he'll feel some kind of responsibility to help him even if he can't have him in the same camp, that sense of responsibility to be able to defeat the illness that took them and that might take his friend too, he couldn't protect the people he was supposed to protect, so the least he can do to them is getting rid of what took them. He needs to help Subaru, because of him now, because he couldn't beat the illness Subaru is suffering, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone succumb to it again. I know that the felt camp would be also heavily included in the research along crusch camp now lol.

"The tale of a hero fighting the world, cursed with the same fate as the people of the throne, the royal family. The Sleeping Beauty Illness. Yet is still making miracles after miracle, serving his lady, fighting monsters, saving lives. Truly, for he is the tragic hero"...ya you'll hear this in a bar lol. (or sung by Liliana lol).

Y'all... we're missing something here... THE PILLOW LAP XHJAJXBSJ, EMILIA WOULD BE SO TERRIFIED OF THE BOY WHO CRIED ALL OVER HER ONLY FOR HIM TO FAINT SUDDENLY JSJDJJS "wdm you were sleeping??? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD ARE YOU OK?? ARE YOU SICK??? that's it we're taking you to a doctor" and subaru would be so panicked cuz he's ok he doesn't need a doctor!!! there are way more important things such as THE SHAMAN THAT'S GONNA TARGET THE VILLAGE SOON. rip my guy...

I want to point out more but this has been sitting in my drafts FOR A WHILE so ya hope you like it sensei <3

[aquaregiaart]

Haleth & Caranthir.

[nohr-selphias]

"I love you, Zevran. I hope you know that."

"Yes... Yes, I know that."

— commission art by @sinizade, posted with permission

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[girldadbuckley]

S04E05: Buck Begins // S04E14: Survivors

[rafey-baby]

hidden 2

cw: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe getting injured and reluctantly letting pogue!reader clean him up, suggestive & him being sleazy

wc: 2k

hope u enjoy xx

part 1 & part 3 part 4 part 5

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

It’s past midnight and Rafe is driving over the speed-limit. He had said something about handling business and then more or less shoving her into the passenger seat of his truck before she even had the chance to open her mouth in objection.  

The island sky is as dusky as the bottom of the ocean as he races through the soundless highway that reminds her of the yellow brick road; never-ending and with no certainty of what’s looming at the finish line. 

She sits silently on the passenger seat because even if she was curious as to where exactly they were headed to, she’s well aware that he wouldn’t tell her if she asked.    

Her heavy lids fall closed to the calming noise of the wind picking up outside the vehicle and she’s so exhausted she falls asleep within minutes. Therefore, she’s not sure how much time has passed before she’s jostled awake to him turning off the engine in an empty parking lot. 

“Don’t even think about opening the door, alright?” A heavy warning lingers in his tone as he’s tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants and grabbing a thick wad of cash from the glove compartment.  

She hums her acknowledgment and watches his actions; wandering eyes filled with questions. However, he merely offers her a brief glance and then he’s throwing open the door and disappearing into the eerily serene night; leaving her alone in the dimly lit space with her nervous inhales and exhales the only thing keeping her company.  

She tries to peer through the window, squinting in order to see where he’s run off to but the faint glow of the street lamps provides little to no help, making her impatiently tap her nails against the center console as she waits for him to return. She presses her ear to the window but unfortunately no sounds other than the rustling of the leaves in the trees surrounding the area reach her eardrums.  

She sighs.  

What if something happens? 

She knows that he doesn’t need for her to worry over him but she can’t help it. No matter how terrible of a person he is, she doesn’t wish for anything bad to happen to him. After all, she’s not a carefully programmed robot entirely void of human emotions, is she?

The mellow memory of him reluctantly trying to soothe her after her outburst the other day still lingers at the forefront of her mind and turns her initial thoughts regarding him into something softer. After all, she was certain he was going to kill her because she had threatened him with his gun. However, he merely seemed entertained by her stupid bravery, opting to mock her instead of showing a single ounce of actual fear.

And she doesn’t know why, but there’s this peculiar flutter in her tummy whenever her brain decides to mull over the moment of him wrapping his big arms around her shaky body in an almost gentle manner.  

She wants to forget about it, ignore it and simply despise him for forcing her to help him, but she can’t. Can’t help the fact that even if she’s utterly terrified of him, there’s also something about him that almost fascinates her; lures her in and makes her want to figure him out and she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to think of that.  

There’s something enticing about the way he’s such a polar opposite to her; not only is he a Kook but he’s also violent and hostile whereas she doesn’t even have the heart to kill a bug. His demeanor is aggressive and she thought that was all there was but then he goes on and practically hugs her when she’s a trembling mess with salty tears streaking her cheeks. 

All of it confuses her to no end; disarranging her cerebrum and making foreign emotions bubble in her chest like molten lava. Or maybe she’s just touch-deprived; starving for whatever attention Rafe is suddenly offering her so generously.  

She doesn’t necessarily want to think about any of it right now though; opting to stare out into the gloom of the night and forcing her mind somewhere else entirely when all at once, the driver’s side door slams open and her head snaps towards it; eyes startled and heart jumping in her chest at the instantaneous intrusion.  

“Calm down, ‘s just me,” Rafe mutters, sounding out of breath; exhales harsh and chest rising and falling like a madman as he slumps down on the leather seat, eyes flitting over her tense form.

“You seriously didn’t move?” He huffs out. “Such a good little puppy, huh?”   

At that, she comes to the conclusion that she’s definitely craving a very specific type of attention when her thighs involuntarily press together at his twisted notion of praise.   

“You— uh…you okay?” She cautiously asks, ignoring the warmth scattering along the apples of her cheeks.   

“I’m fine,” he mumbles before starting the engine and speeding back out onto the road that’s still sound asleep; the pitch-black sky beginning to fade into a darkened navy blue with the dim glimmer of the street lamps illuminating their journey.   

She then gets a better look at him and notices a few cuts and bruises adorning his tired face. There’s a particularly deep scrape on his cheekbone; crimson transferring to the back of his hand when he mindlessly swipes over it.   

“Rafe…you’re bleeding. What happened?” She exclaims, uneasiness coating her tone.

“Don’t worry, okay? Just had some, uh…disagreements. Should honestly see the other guy,” a lazy smirk paints over his face as he lets out a dry chuckle.  

“Rafe, those could get infected or something. Do you want me to clean them up for you?”  

“It’s just a few scratches, you’re acting as if I’m bleeding out,” he rolls his eyes, turning exasperated.  

“I’m being serious, you can’t exactly go to the doctor if those actually end up getting infected, can you?” She argues with a pout.    

”Shit, are all Pogues this fucking stubborn or just you? Told you, it’s fine,” he snaps in disdain, knuckles turning white from their grip on the steering wheel.  

“It’s not fine, though. Can you just…can you just let me help you? It’ll take like ten minutes and then you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” she rakes a hand through her hair in frustration because in her opinion Rafe is the one being stubborn right now.   

“I’m not worrying about it!” His gravelly voice thunders from his chest, making her flinch.  

“Well, I am,” her tone is quiet now; slightly regretting bringing the topic up in the first place.    

At that, he lets out an irritated sigh and then he’s abruptly pulling over to a parking lot next to some gas station.  

She turns to look at him with a surprised expression.   

“Don’t have all day. Get the fucking first aid kit from the glove box,” he grumbles out a harsh demand.   

“O— okay,” her face begins to light up in victory as she scurries to open the compartment in front of her, rummaging through it and trying to not pay attention to the plastic baggies filled with white powder or the wads of cash her hand comes in contact with.   

At last, her tentative fingertips find the small red bag she was looking for. However, when she turns to face him again, he’s not initiating any sort of movement, simply spreading his legs out in front of him in his slouched position and peering down at her expectantly.  

She hesitates.   

“You’re not gonna…move?”  

“If you wanna play nurse so fucking bad then you have no problem sitting on my lap, right? Not gonna reach all the way from there, are ya?” His tone is mocking and she can practically feel the cherry blush crawling up her face.  

“Oh, right. Um— yeah. I’ll just…” She blinks and then she’s clumsily climbing over the console and awkwardly lowering down to stumble into his lap. He merely looks at her with a bored expression; annoyance swimming in the lagoons of his eyes as he glares at her, clearly bothered by the fact that he has to waste his precious time on something as trivial as this.   

She huffs before timidly opening the first aid kit and trying to settle down on his lap. However, with his long legs sprawled out in the legroom he’s not exactly making it easy for her; being petty and difficult on purpose as she takes out a clean cotton pad and dampens it with some antiseptic spray.   

“Can you just…” she trails off before gingerly taking ahold of his jaw and lifting his face in order to examine the injuries better.  

He lets her freely maneuver his head as she pleases and despite the sting, not even flinching when she gently dabs over a smaller cut on his jaw. Merely letting his gaze flicker over her features; making her grow nervous under his curious eyes as she tries to concentrate on the vermilion spots on his face and not the way he’s soundlessly observing her.  

Or the fact that she’s currently closer to him than she’s ever been before. Can feel the even breaths from his nose tickling the skin of her lower face when she leans down to get a better angle.  

“So…you’re a drug dealer or?” She decides to try her luck, not being able to sweep the cocaine in the glove compartment under the rug so carelessly.   

“What did I say about questions, Puppy?” He scolds her instead of answering.   

“Right, sorry,” her eyes drop down. At least she tried.  

She doesn’t say anything more, instead focuses all her attention on cleansing the scrapes and tries not to pay any mind to the fact that as an afterthought, this position is incredibly improper and she’s not entirely sure why she agreed to it so easily.  

Upon careful consideration, she thinks she’s entirely too aware of his sturdy muscles underneath her and it’s turning her respiration more labored by each wipe over his face.  

“Thinkin’ about going to Guadeloupe next week,” he utters out after several minutes of silence.  

“You are?”   

“Mhm. My family owns a house there,” his low-pitched tone is calm; almost relaxed.  

“But, how are you—” her brows crease in a question.   

“I have a private jet,” he states as if it should be obvious; he is a proud Kook, after all.   

“Right. Of course you do,” she shakes her head when the corners of his mouth tug up.   

“How long are you gonna stay there?” She asks as she lifts her hand to swipe the saturated cotton over the deeper wound on his cheekbone.   

“Don’t know, ’til I figure something else out,” he shrugs.   

She hums and then shuffles around in his lap some more, trying to wriggle upwards in order to not fall off. However, as she’s shifting into a more comfortable position, he suddenly lets out a low grunt from the back of his throat.  

“Shit, Puppy. You really gotta move around so much?” He murmurs, promptly resting warm palms on her hips, halting her movements altogether.   

“S— sorry,” her eyes round out when she can suddenly feel a slight bulge in his pants. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re tryna get me hard on purpose, hm?” A breathy chuckle escapes his lips along with amusement glittering in blue gemstones as he inspects her flushed face with intrigue.   

“Oh, no— I’m not…was just— trying not to fall,” her words are rushed; thoroughly embarrassed as she blinks repeatedly.  

“Just, uh…stay still, yeah? Need me to steady you?” He rasps before strong arms are holding her upright by a firm grip on her waist.   

“Thanks,” her voice is a muted whisper and she tries not to seem so affected as she gets a new cotton pad and begins to scrub off some of the dried scarlet from under his bottom lip; not daring to shift an inch after that.  

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Lala...

[isezrahomeyet]

OUR BOY IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

[geekgirl-1717]

Cuddling with... One Piece Characters!

Part 2 (Franky, Nami, Robin, Ace, Sabo, Shanks)

TW: Non-sexual nudity for Robin's part and slightly suggestive jokes for Shanks' part, but otherwise SFW. Gender-neutral reader, no use of (y/n)

I kinda got carried away so some of this is just how they express affection in general ? But also there's cuddling too lol

How (more) One Piece characters would cuddle with you!

Franky: At the beginning of your relationship, he’s a little hesitant to cuddle with you. He’s much larger than you, not to mention that most of him is made of metal, which makes him worry. What if he accidentally hurts you? Is his body too hard or cold to cuddle you “properly?” But with enough reassurance, you’ll turn Franky into a cuddle machine! Due to his sheer size, he usually ends up spooning you or holding you in some way, like against his chest, but he will never turn down a chance to be the little spoon. This man is absolutely shameless in everything he does so he has no qualms about cuddling in front of others either.

Sleep was a precious luxury when sailing the seas. Getting a proper rest each night was never guaranteed, as any number of threats could have you springing out of bed and into the heat of battle at a moment’s notice.

It was a perfectly calm night. No freak weather incidents, no resonate booms of cannonfire, no stomps or shouts from your lively crew. Even better, you were curled up in the embrace of your boyfriend. You laid against his sturdy chest, his massive hands engulfing nearly your entire body.

Which only made it all the more frustrating when you couldn’t fall asleep.

You suppressed the urge to let out a groan, instead directing your gaze up towards Franky. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was somewhat shallow, leading you to believe he may not have been asleep either. You decided to take your chances.

“Hey Franky, are you awake?”

You whispered softly, absentmindedly tracing your finger across his collarbone.

His eyes didn’t open, but a large thumb started stroking up and down your back.

“Yeah. Can’t sleep either, baby?”

You let out a hum in affirmation. Franky slowly opened his eyes, flashing you a sleepy grin, one that you happily returned.

You both remained like that for a while, basking in the silence and each other’s love-stricken gazes. Finally, you spoke up.

“Can we switch? Wanna hold you.”

Franky chuckled, jostling you slightly from your position on top of him.

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.”

He gently slid you off his chest, shifting so that he was laying on his side. You wrapped your arms around his waist, smushing your face into his broad back.

You never minded that your boyfriend was a cyborg, but you secretly loved moments like this. His back was so warm and soft compared to the rest of his metal body, and you couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into him.

Franky was enjoying himself just as much as you were. Franky was someone that radiated confidence from his very being, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t ever worry about how you perceived his unusual body. Feeling your warm breath fanning across his spine, your hair tickling his skin, the sensation of you pressing into the more sensitive flesh of his back, made him feel truly human again.

A large, imposing, audacious cyborg being spooned by his lover, whose arms could barely reach around the length of his body, would be a ridiculous sight for anyone else to behold. But the two of you were in absolute bliss, your prior sleeplessness forgotten as you both drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Nami: She loves to cuddle with the both of you facing each other, especially when you’re sleeping together. There’s been too many times in her life where she’s woken up alone, away from anything that’s ever felt familiar to her. Now, you’re the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes, reminding her that everything's real, that she’s safe now. She also likes any cuddling position where you’re holding her, whether she’s sitting in your lap, being the little spoon, or laying against your chest. She views cuddling as something more intimate and vulnerable, so she prefers to have it happen in private.

Sunlight slowly began to filter through the little porthole, scattering sunbeams across the room.

Nami was roused from her sleep as the offendingly bright light hit her eyes. She frowned in discomfort initially, wishing she could have gotten a few more precious hours of sleep. But as her vision adjusted and she took in the sight before her, her heart softened.

You, still slumbering peacefully. Your hair was a little mussed from sleep, your mouth hung open slightly as you breathed deeply, and your sleepwear was ruffled and wrinkled. But to Nami, you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on, more precious than any treasure she could dream of.

Your arms were wrapped around Nami’s waist, but she pulled back slightly from your grasp so she could get a better view of you. Unable to help herself, she reached out to brush her hand softly across your cheek, almost as if to affirm she wasn’t still dreaming.

The action stirred you from your sleep, but just you smiled and leaned into Nami’s touch.

“Good morning, love.”

Your voice was a bit raspy, but it was music to Nami’s ears.

“Good morning to you, too. Sorry for waking you.”

You shook your head, your eyes finally fluttering open.

“It’s okay.”

You pulled Nami closer to you, placing a kiss on her temple and resting your chin on the top of her head. She eagerly snuggled into your embrace, her arms coming to circle around your waist as well.

“Wanna just go back to sleep?”

You asked softly.

You weren’t quite ready to leave the warm comfort of your and Nami’s shared bed. Luckily, Nami seemed to feel the same way. She merely nodded in response, already drifting back to sleep.

This little routine of yours has become so normal, so mundane, and yet Nami cherishes every morning she wakes up next to you like it’s the first. To hold and be held by you reminds her that she’s finally escaped the horrors of her past, that she’s living out the dreams she’s had since she was a young child, and that she gets to do it all with you. And that’s worth more than anything money could buy.

Robin: Hold this woman. Please. You would think her Devil Fruit powers would make her the perfect big spoon, and of course if you want to be held by her, she would be more than happy to indulge you. But please make sure you hold her, too. She’s desperately craving the comfort and intimacy. However, it’s difficult for her to vocalize her needs and as such, you’ll have to initiate the majority of cuddling. A very common way you cuddle is Robin sitting in your lap leaning back into your chest while she reads, making sure to turn the pages slowly so you can read over her shoulder. Another private cuddler for the most part, but wouldn’t mind small displays of affection like leaning your head onto her shoulder.

“Darling, I’m going to take a bath. Would you like to join?”

Robin peeked her head into the room where you had been laying in your bed. You had been on the verge of taking a nap, but practically jumped at the opportunity to spend time with your girlfriend.

“Sure! Let me just grab a few things.”

You grabbed a change of clothes and some toiletries before taking Robin’s hand and letting her lead you across the ship.

When you and Robin first started dating, intimacy and vulnerability was something she struggled with. She had learned to live without much affection from a very young age, so she wasn’t used to giving or receiving it.

But you were patient and understanding, giving Robin all the time that she needed. Now, you both treasured the small moments of closeness you were able to carve out amidst your tumultuous lives as pirates.

Bathing together had quickly become one of your favorite ways to spend time with each other. Even when you two would try to read together in the aquarium bar or share a cup of tea on the deck, it was never a guarantee your peaceful moments wouldn’t be disturbed by one of your crewmates, and Robin was not one to indulge in PDA. Aside from sleeping together at night, taking a bath was the only way the two of you could cuddle without interruption.

After rinsing yourselves under the showerheads first and drawing a warm bath for yourselves, you settled into the water first, leaning back against the rim of the tub. Robin climbed in shortly after, resting her back against your chest. She let out a deep sigh, the tension practically melting off of her shoulders.

Although to anyone else it seemed that Robin was always calm and composed, as her lover you knew that she often kept her guard up, not allowing herself to be fully vulnerable. But alone with you, she was granted a rare moment to truly relax.

Wordlessly, you went about your usual routine, reaching for bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a bar of soap. You laughed softly to yourself when you recalled the first time you asked Robin to do this with you.

“Take a bath… together? My, you’re being rather bold today, aren’t you?”

She had teased, making your face heat up as you realized the implications of your words.

“N-no, nothing like that! I mean, not that I don’t want that- but I just thought, maybe uh- you’d want someone to help wash your back?”

You fumbled for any excuse you could think of. Truly, you had just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. Neither of you brought up the fact that Robin could easily wash her own back with the help of her Devil Fruit ability, and to this day that fact remained unacknowledged.

You started with Robin’s hair, gently massaging shampoo into her scalp and brushing conditioner through the ends of her long, dark tresses. Then, you moved to wash her back, though you eventually devolved to just massaging the tense muscles. You couldn’t help but place soft kisses on her bare shoulders and neck from time to time, and Robin’s heart fluttered with each gentle press of your lips to her skin.

Even as the water grew tepid and your skin began to prune, you both remained in the bath. Your arms had found their way around Robin’s waist, her hands coming to settle on top of your own.

“Love you.”

You mumbled into her skin, finally breaking the peaceful silence. Robin turned her head to rest her face in the crook of your neck.

“Love you more, darling. Thank you.”

Ace: Not unlike his younger brother, Ace loves cuddling and physical affection. If you say you want to cuddle, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and have you in his arms in a heartbeat. The rest of the Whitebeard pirates tease him for the way you have the infamous “Fire-Fist” wrapped around your finger, but neither of you are bothered by their words. He likes to have you resting against his side or chest, but also loves laying his head in your lap. Run your fingers through his hair and he’s a goner. When he falls into one of his sudden sleeping fits, you’re always there to lay him against your shoulder or across your lap.

The Moby Dick was as lively as ever, with alcohol flowing endlessly and the sound of drunken laughter and sea shanties filling the night air.

As much as you loved indulging in the festivities, it could get a bit overwhelming at times.

You had snuck away from the party a few minutes ago, making your way to the ship’s stern. You could still hear the ruckus of your crewmates, but it was much more muted now. You were sitting with your back against the ship’s railing, letting the sound of crashing waves soothe your senses. At first, the cool breeze felt refreshing on your flushed cheeks, as you were still a bit drunk yourself, but soon you felt a shiver wrack your spine.

“Hey sweetheart, you alright?”

Perfect timing.

You opened your eyes with a smile, instantly recognizing Ace’s voice.

“Mhm, I’m good. Just need a little breather.”

Ace made his way over to you, plopping down beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. You instinctively snuggled into him, resting your head against his chest. Despite his lack of shirt and the chill of the evening air, Ace’s skin was almost hot to the touch. Thanks to his Devil Fruit, your boyfriend often acted as your personal space heater, a role he was happy to take on.

You let out a contented sigh as you warmed up in Ace’s embrace. He let out a chuckle and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Comfortable?”

He teased. You looked up at him, your smile never having left your face.

“Very. You’re really hot, you know?”

You said with a wink. Ace laughed out loud this time. He tried to put on a suave smirk, but you could see a hint of blush across his freckled cheeks.

“Oh, I know sweetheart.”

You both giggled at this, grinning at each other like two idiots in love. You eventually settled into a comfortable silence, Ace’s arm never leaving your shoulder. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you eventually felt Ace rest his head on top of yours.

The music and laughter continued in the background, and as much as you delighted in Ace’s presence, you didn’t want to keep him from the fun.

“Ace, honey, you can go back to the party if you want. I’ll come join you guys again soon.”

First, there was only silence. Then, Ace let out a snore above you.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself again. Of course, he has fallen asleep. Whether it was due to his narcolepsy or the exhaustion of drinking and partying, you weren’t sure. But you always cherished the moments when Ace would fall asleep on you.

Gently, you shifted Ace so that his head was now in your lap. You removed his hat and placed it on his chest so you could run your fingers through his dark locks.

From this position, you had a perfect view to admire Ace’s features. The way his bangs fell on his forehead, the constellation of freckles across his cheeks, the soft smile he wore even while he was sleeping.

Your back would surely start to ache from sitting against the railing, and your legs would probably end up falling asleep from Ace’s weight on them, but seeing Ace so at peace in your embrace made it all worth it.

Sabo: The ASL brothers just love to cuddle, what can I say? This man would hold you like a giant stuffed animal and refuse to let you go until he says so. The chaotic and uncertain life of a revolutionary means time to cuddle is exceedingly rare, so any opportunity you two can get is savored. Ultimately, Sabo’s not picky on how you guys cuddle, but he would favor arrangements that let him put his face in your hair. He finds your scent so comforting, especially after a difficult day.

Your eyes slowly cracked open as you awoke from your slumber. The room was silent and the sun hadn’t even begun to peak over the horizon yet, but your body knew instinctively it was time to wake up.

The life of a revolutionary was exhausting in many ways, but the hope of creating a better, more just world was enough to pull you out of bed each day to endure whatever grueling training or expedition was planned.

That, and knowing that every new sunrise meant another day of waking up with the love of your life. It was a precious gift, especially given the dangerous nature of a revolutionary's life. You loved Sabo, and he loved you, but it was only under the gentle spell of sleep, away from the terrors and turmoils of war, that you two could fully bask in each other’s comfort.

The object of your affections was currently still fast asleep, his arms draped loosely around your waist with his face pressed into your hair, lulled into slumber by your familiar scent. You wiggled in his grasp, turning so the two of you were face to face.

You always loved waking up before Sabo so you could steal a few brief moments to admire him. The only time you saw the young Chief of Staff truly at peace was asleep in the safety and comfort of your shared bed. You could never resist reaching a hand out to gently trace along his scar, a sight you found both saddening and beautiful at the same time.

You spared one last glance at your boyfriend before you rolled over again, shifting towards the side of the bed so you could get up and start preparing for the day.

You had barely moved an inch before the grip around your waist tightened, a strong pair of arms yanking you backwards. Sabo’s hold on you remained firm as he slung a leg over yours and buried his head into your shoulder, his whole body almost enveloping yours.

You huffed, but you couldn’t fight the grin tugging at the corners of your lips. You gave a half-hearted wiggle, pretending like you were trying to escape Sabo’s grasp when really you wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep in his embrace.

“Sabo, love, we have to get up.”

Sabo only shook his head in response, his blonde hair tickling your bare skin. He wound his arms around you even tighter, almost squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Sabo snuggled into you like a child clinging to their beloved teddy bear.

“Jus’ a few more minutes.”

He mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

And who were you to deny him?

Shanks: Believe it or not, he’s actually a little hesitant to cuddle or hold you at the beginning of your relationship. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be close to you, but age-old insecurities about his arm arise when you first get together. However, with lots of communication, reassurance, and love, you’ll turn Shanks into a cuddle fiend. He likes having you in his lap or resting against his chest. We know this man is shameless, so get ready for a lot of PDA. Shanks likes drinking, and he likes having you sit in his lap, so having you sit in his lap while drinking? Perfect! You’re in a public tavern with tons of people around? No worries!

“Shanks, honey, you gotta help me out here.”

Your voice was exasperated and strained as you struggled to keep both yourself and your intoxicated husband upright. Said husband was seemingly unaware of your plight, swaying to and fro with each clumsy step, leaning his full weight into where his arm was slung around your shoulder.

You nearly toppled over as Shanks leaned in to press a sloppy kiss against your cheek, laughing jovially as he did.

“I love you too, honey!”

You couldn’t help but smile along with him, your heart fluttering at such a genuine display of affection in spite of your previous annoyance.

After a somewhat perilous trek, you finally made it back to the Red Force with you and your husband thankfully unscathed. You gently guided Shanks to sit on your shared bed in the captain’s quarters, taking a moment to catch your breath. By this point, your clothes and hair had become disheveled and you could feel a thin layer of sweat accumulating from the effort it took to haul Shanks back to the ship. This, however, did nothing to deter your husband, who was currently gazing at you with such raw devotion and tenderness in his eyes that it made you falter.

You blushed and shyly turned your head away from Shanks, which only made him chuckle again. Despite having been married for years, he had the ability to feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

You sifted through the dresser near the bed, pulling out a set of sleepwear for the both of you. As you approached Shanks, the heavy smell of alcohol lingered in the air, making you scrunch your nose up. He really needed a shower, and so did you to be honest, but you shuddered at the thought of washing him in this state. You had barely made it to the ship in one piece, but trying to keep Shanks upright on a wet, slippery floor sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

I’ll just wash the sheets tomorrow.

You conceded, moving to discard your current outfit in favor of more comfortable pajamas. You turned your head back to see Shanks gaping at you. He looked almost sheepish, as though he were witnessing something he shouldn’t be despite having seen you in various states of undress more times than he could count, and now it was your turn to giggle at his flustered state.

Once you had finished changing, you moved on to your husband, grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. He complied easily, his abashed expression quickly being replaced by a smug grin.

“Oh? Just can’t keep your hands off me can you, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you tugged a nightshirt over Shanks’ head. Ignoring his suggestive smirk and wiggling eyebrows, you moved on to tugging off his shoes and pants. Shanks gave a teasing, low whistle in response.

“Wow, gettin’ right to business, are we? Not sure why you put my shirt back on, but I guess we can make it work-“

He was cut off by you flinging his pajama pants at his face. You could hear his muffled chuckles through the fabric.

“Put your pants on, pervert. We’re going to bed.”

“Again, not sure why I need my pants then-“

“To sleep, Shanks. We’re going to sleep.”

It wasn’t long before the two of you settled into bed. Even in his tipsy state, Shanks’ arm instinctively reached out to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest where you belonged. For all his eagerness earlier, Shanks seemed to fall asleep almost instantly, but not before murmuring sweetly in your ear.

“G’night baby, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[aroaceleovaldez]

i feel like many adhd/autistic people have very strong opinions about pants vs skirts/dresses (and vs shorts vs skirt-shorts) so here is My Oddly Specific PJO Headcanons About Their Legwear Opinions:

Percy - Shorts and short skirts kind of guy. Not a huge fan of fabric touching his legs. Type of guy to wear shorts in the middle of winter. Thinks skirt-shorts are neat. Will tolerate long pants if required but not long skirts (surprise fabric against his legs is Bad).

Annabeth - HATES skirts/dresses. Insert line from SoM about Percy not being able to imagine Annabeth caught dead in a dress here. The flowing fabric is a liability and she must be ready for combat at all hours.

Jason - Refused to wear pants until he was like 12. He was raised by wolves and then raised in New Rome; he did not wear pants as a child. Big fan of skirts/dresses but doesn't wear them as often as he'd like. BIG fan of togas/chitons. Pants are extremely hit-or-miss for him and he's very particular about it. Shorts are even more questionable.

Piper - Shorts or skirt-shorts mostly, though is fine with pants. Absolutely hates skirts/dresses do not even look at her with one she will destroy it with her mind. Loose fabric swooshing against legs bad. 100% DIY'd her own jorts though.

Leo - Least amount of loose fabric possible. too dangerous around machinery. Also he needs one billion pockets at all times or he will lose his mind. Shorts or pants only (though overalls are also very nice).

Frank - The only neutral party because he's (allegedly) neurotypical. He just doesn't have sensory problems so he doesn't care. Generally prefers pants though just cause otherwise his legs stick together like when it's hot out or chafe and that's not fun. Also has trouble finding good shorts. If those problems are solved though he's all for shorts/skirts/dresses/etc.

Hazel - Basic jeans or denim-type stuff or the frilliest skirt/dress you've ever seen with no in-between. If it's denim she will doodle on it though.

Nico - Pants only, maybe shorts, and maybe has like one or two exception skirts that he wears pants under anyways. Will tolerate togas/chitons with shorts. Generally dislikes skirts/dresses though mostly just because he grew up in the 1930s so he probably had to wear baby dresses and wearing skirts and dresses now mostly just makes him feel a little bit like a toddler. Also he doesn't like having his legs exposed. His legs will breathe through the rips in his jeans and that is all they need. Yes he is dying in the heat. Yes he has the stupidest tan lines ever don't look at him.

Reyna - Enemy of pants. She'll tolerate them but she won't be happy about it. Long skirts and maybe shorts only. If you can't fight in a long skirt/dress that's a skill issue.

Will - Shorts ONLY. Maybe a short skirt or short dress if he's having a good gender day but would not be caught dead in pants. He and Percy are standing in solidarity in their shorts in 10 degree (fahrenheit) weather shivering their legs off.