#breezy babbles

[artificialbreezy]

matty brain rot out of nowhere (jk it’s not nowhere it’s bc @thefallennightmare said HEHEHEHEHEHEHE WHAT IF and now i’m feral)

anyways this is really just a feral ramble.

you know the drill

just thinking about wearing Matt’s lord of the rings shirt and fishnets under your cute little black skirt and walking into the green room to find Matt, Noah, and Bryan just chatting just for Noah to see Matt’s eyes widen a little and for him to signal Bryan to leave the room so it’s just you and Matt on the couch now.

“you look nice today.” Matt would say trying so hard to be casual as he’s getting up to close the door.

and your legs are spread just enough that his mind is wondering and he knows he absolutely shouldn’t but god dammit he can’t help it. he really can’t.

so instead of sitting next to you again, he’s on the floor, in between your legs. pushing your thighs further apart.

“Matt what are you-“

“lift your skirt up for me babe.”

and you obviously do what he asks. just for him to rip the center of your fishnets and push your barely there panties to the side, “just need a taste baby. i’ll be fast, promise.”

[thefallennightmare]

it cracks me up seeing you, breezy and tay all acting surprised about your wips when you’re literally the sanderson sisters. we’re onto you. leak the group chat 😂

We are the Khaos Coven. We will never leak the group chat. 😈😈😈

@blueskylinesx @artificialbreezy

[breezy-cheezy]

@forwantofacalling here's an ATTEMPT....angular honse.

(tbh I've been told I draw really round faces ALOT so it's hard for me to. See it. You do get messier blockier shading tho so WOO)

[artificialbreezy]

EVERY DAY BABY

(especially the dehydrated and on the verge of insanity)

fuck it we ball

[breezycheezyart]

Miraculously, nope! And even when I did get a rare hate ask, I just delete it. I tag my art/posts specifically so folks who do not want to see that content can blacklist it (or they can just block me 🤷🏾‍♀️. It won’t hurt my feelings, trust me.)

And I’ve always headcanoned him as mlm (bi specifically), so not much really changed imo. I run by “If it’s not explicitly stated in the canon show, it’s free to interpretation.”

Again, folks can disagree with me, I don’t mind. Make the content you wanna see (nothing I make can nor will ever affect canon). But if you’re willing to pick a fight with me after all these years, you’re literally looking for something to piss you off. And that’s loser behavior 🤷🏾‍♀️

I’ll just mind my business in this corner with my blorbos lol 🩷🖤

[ghostsinthecellar]

I miss frisbeeeee

[artificialbreezy]

i dressed up yesterday and this is the only photo of myself i actually took

ps my dress was velvet, TOTALLY recommend a velvet dress omg

[breezy-cheezy]

@grumpyoldsnake Thank you, you're very sweet!! and hhsdhgfkds THIS GOT SILLIER I was like what's the opposite of swoopy and round...

Isa: Box head man

Me: RIGHT

Stiffer thicker lines attempt too! closed smaller eyes and all too hehe

[corroded-hellfire]

From one ginger to the other I absolutely adore the as you wish series! <3

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader goes out with Nancy for brunch for the first time after having Eliza. And her alcohol tolerance is obviously lower than pre-Eliza. And she gets quite tipsy, and Eddie has to pick her up, and she's all over him and just spewing nonsense about how much she loves him and their family.

And she admits how much she loved having his baby, and Eddie is just totally smitten as she just keeps going on and on.

Anything for a fellow ginger! This is silly and cute and I hope you like it 🥰

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexy talk

[As You Wish masterlist]

The sun brings warmth to the breezy spring day as you finish up your brunch with Nancy. It’s the first time the two of you have gotten to do this since you gave birth to Eliza. You had been aware that things would change drastically after giving birth, but you hadn’t even realized how long it had been since you and Nancy had a girl’s day until she invited you a few days ago. 

Mimosas seemed like a perfect way to celebrate when you arrived, but by the time you had finished your second glass along with your French toast, it was too late to remember that your tolerance was lower now. 

“Same thing happened after I had Danny,” Nancy tells you as you take a long sip from your water glass. “Steve and I went to a work party, and we had to leave after I had one vodka cranberry.”

“I don’t feel drunk,” you tell your friend, the lightness in your head giving you a pleasant buzz of happiness on top of the already enjoyable day. “Just tipsy. But I know I can’t drive like this. I’ll go call Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy offers. “I can just drive you home.”

You shake your head as you carefully push yourself up from the cushioned chair. 

“No, it’s okay. Wayne’s over so he can stay with the kids.” 

It is the truth, but the main reason you want Eddie to pick you up is because you really want to see your husband right now. Like a pregnancy craving for food turned into a yearning for a person, you feel as if your hands are not on Eddie within the next few minutes, you’re going to lose your mind. It’s all you can think about as you put one foot in front of the other as you walk inside the restaurant from your porch table.

The hostess shows you to a phone and your fingers eagerly skip over the familiar numbers for your home.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of his voice sends a chill throughout your body—one the warm spring day outside could never eradicate. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you say. Even you can hear the smile in your voice.

“What, baby? Are you okay?” The concern in Eddie’s voice does nothing to help the burning deep within you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you tell him. “I had a, uh, couple of mimosas with lunch and I did not realize my alcohol tolerance would be this low after having Eliza since I haven’t drank in a while.”

There’s an exhale of relief on the other end of the phone. Eliza babbling in the background and Luke’s raucous laughter has you grinning into the mouthpiece you’re clutching on to. 

“I’ll be right there, okay?” Eddie assures you. “We’ll get your car later.”

“Okay!”

Eddie chuckles at your carefree attitude and can only imagine how cute you look right now, all smiley and bubbly. 

“I’ll see you soon, princess.”

“Okay! Bye.”

When you get back to the table, amongst the empty plates and discarded silverware, you see that Nancy has already paid the whole bill and you give her a soft glare.

“What?” she asks innocently, large eyes making it even more convincing. “I’m pretty sure you paid last time.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble as she stands up and grabs her purse. “I’m sure you remember that from, like, a year ago.”

No response from Nancy on that, she just gives you a wink and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk arm-in-arm out to the parking lot in front of the restaurant. 

Nancy’s car is parked in the shade so there’s a coolness on your backside as you rest against the trunk of the silver Lexus. Your friend tugs a little on the cream-colored sweater she’s wearing but you wish you had Eddie’s arms around you to keep you warm. Thoughts of Eddie’s arms lead to thoughts of his hands all over you and you’re unable to keep a dreamy little hum from slipping out.

“Thinking about Eddie?” Nancy asks, though the amusement on her face says she already knows the answer.

“I’m always thinking about Eddie,” you admit with a shrug. 

“God, you two are adorable,” Nancy says, mostly to herself. 

A squeal of excitement and you hopping off the car in excitement lets the brunette next to you know that Eddie’s truck has pulled into the parking lot. It’s her clue even before the metal music can be heard soaring out of the open windows. 

Eddie leaves one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to turn the volume dial down as he slows the truck down right behind Nancy’s car. He lifts an eyebrow and looks you up and down appreciatively. 

“Need a ride, gorgeous?” he asks.

The giggle that tumbles out of your lips has both your best friend and your husband smiling as he puts the truck in park and steps out of the car. As soon as he walks back around the bed, you throw yourself at Eddie, who catches you and lets out a surprised huff of laughter.

“Hello to you, too,” he says. Protective as always, he wraps a sturdy arm around your waist to make sure you’re steady before he looks over at Nancy. “She wasn’t any trouble, was she?”

“Nope,” Nancy says. “Ate her vegetables and went to bed on time.”

“Hey!” You pout, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I’m the babysitter, not the baby. I mean…I was the babysitter. Now I’m the Mommy.”

Your two compatriots share an amused smile before Nancy gives you a wave and gets in her car. Eddie leads you over to the passenger’s side of the truck. You have no intention of letting him go though, so you wrap your arms around his neck so he’s leaning over you in the seat.

“Uh, babe?” he says with a chuckle before realizing it’s better to just humor you. 

Rapid fire kisses get smacked all over your face which has you squirming on the spot and gets you to loosen your grip on your husband’s neck. But the moment Eddie climbs in the driver’s seat and closes the door, you lean over the center console to grab at him again. 

“Sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, amused at your touchiness, “I have to drive us home.”

Silently, you decide that’s okay because that’s where your babies are, so you let go and slip back into your own seat. The older man puts the truck into gear as you buckle your seatbelt and then he pulls out of the parking lot, onto the main road.

It’s quiet only for a matter of seconds before you speak again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We have the cutest family ever.”

Eddie nods his head in agreement, trying to keep his laughter inside lest you think he’s laughing at you.

“Absolutely,” he agrees.

“And it’s because you’re so cute!” you gush, throwing your hands in the air with a dramatic flourish that Luke would be proud of. “What do Ryan, Luke, and Eliza all have in common? Your genes! That’s why they’re so stinkin’ adorable.” You sigh dreamily and rest your head against the headrest as you gaze at your husband. “You’re such a DILF.”

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of laughter at that and looks your way as you pull up to a red light. Glee dances in his eyes as he tilts his head. 

“Isn’t that ‘Dad I’d like to fuck?’” he asks. “You have fucked me, baby. Many, many times.”

“Fine. You’re a DIHF.” The different pronunciation has a raspberry blowing out of your mouth at the end of the word. “‘Dad I have fucked.’”

This is the most entertained I have been in so long, Eddie thinks to himself as the light turns green. It only reinforces the insane amount of love he has for you, and he feels the need to reach over and hold your hand. Luckily, yours is resting on your thigh now so he does just that. Softly, his thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand. 

“M’so happy, Eddie.”

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you had a good time with Nancy. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to go out.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, I am happy because I got to spend time with Nancy today but that’s not what I was talking about. I meant that I’m so happy cause I got you and the boys and little Liza. Best things that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way, princess.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really loved having your baby.”

Eddie can’t help the big grin that stretches across his face at your words. God, he could never hear that enough from you. 

“I had something that was half you and half me growing inside me,” you explain as if Eddie doesn’t know what being pregnant entails. “It felt crazy. But like, a good way. Like, I couldn’t believe it was happening. A little piece of you right here.” Your free hand pats your lower abdomen and when Eddie glances over he sees you looking down at that part of your body.

“I wanna do it again.”

Eddie almost swerves off the road at those words.

“Huh?” he asks, hand tightening on yours.

“I wanna have your baby again! I mean, not right now. Fucking hell, my vagina would fall out having babies so close together like that. Ow.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Eddie raves. “But yeah, we don’t want your vagina falling out. Pretty sure we both really, really like that part of you.”

A sly smile grows on your lips as Eddie turns the truck into your neighborhood. You know it’s a little mean to turn your husband on when you’re about to go home to a house full of kids and his uncle, but you just can’t help it. You’re having fun and it’s alcohol-induced and Eddie’s done way worse things while under the influence. 

“Well,” you start innocently, “maybe if my vagina hurt you could kiss it better?”

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, glancing over at you. “Really gonna do this now?”

The maniacal giggle you let out already has Eddie forgiving you, his heart soaring with how much love he feels. He’d let you tease him and taunt him until the end of time. And God knows you’re the only one allowed to. But that makes it even better, Eddie thinks, because then he gets a pass to act as an over-protective asshole once in a while when the jealousy monster rears its ugly head. It’s a fair trade you can both live with. And if Eddie’s cross to bear is you getting him all worked up when there’s no time to do anything about it, he thinks he’s pretty damn lucky. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! I absolutely love your blog, it has saved my ass from looking like a fool nine times out of ten. I was wondering if you have any tips for describing voices? Like the tone or even how someone's accent sounds, things of the sort. Thank you :)

Haha, I'm so glad to hear this. Thanks for telling me :)

Abrasive - causing irritation; rude and unfriendly

Acidic - marked by the use of wit that is intended to cause hurt feelings

Adenoidal - exhibiting the characteristics (such as snoring, mouth breathing, and voice nasality) of one affected with abnormally enlarged adenoids

Airy - exceptionally light, delicate, or refined

Animated - full of vigor and spirit; lively

Anxious - characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency; worried; ardently or earnestly wishing

Authoritative - recognized authority; clearly accurate or knowledgeable

Barbed - characterized by pointed and biting criticism or sarcasm

Baritone - a male singing voice of medium compass between bass and tenor, also: a person having this voice

Barking - to speak in a curt loud and usually angry tone; snapping

Bass - deep or grave in tone; of low pitch

Big - expressed in an enthusiastic or unrestrained way; hearty; of great force; in a loud or declamatory manner

Bitter - caused by or expressive of severe pain, grief, or regret

Bland - not irritating, stimulating, or invigorating; soothing; dull, insipid

Blasé - apathetic to pleasure or excitement as a result of excessive indulgence or enjoyment; world-weary; sophisticated, worldly-wise; unconcerned

Bleak - lacking in warmth, life, or kindliness; grim; severely simple or austere

Blunt - abrupt in speech or manner; slow or deficient in feeling; insensitive

Bombastic - marked by or given to speech or writing that is given exaggerated importance by artificial or empty means; marked by or given to bombast; pompous, overblown

Booming - making a loud deep sound

Bored - having one's patience, interest, or pleasure exhausted; monotonous

Brash - lacking restraint and discernment; tactless; piercingly sharp; harsh

Braying - to utter the characteristic loud harsh cry of a donkey

Breathy - characterized by or as if by the audible passage of breath

Breezy - airy, nonchalant

Bright - lively, cheerful; intelligent, clever

Brisk - sharp in tone or manner; energetic, quick

Brittle - easily hurt or offended; lacking warmth, depth, or generosity of spirit

Broken - discontinuous, interrupted; imperfectly spoken or written; subdued completely; crushed, sorrowful

Bubbly - cheerful and high-spirited; lively, vivacious

Burbling - babbling, prattling

Calm - free from agitation, excitement, or disturbance

Casual - feeling or showing little concern; nonchalant; informal, natural

Caustic - marked by incisive sarcasm

Childish - marked by or suggestive of immaturity and lack of poise; simple

Chirping - to utter (something) with a cheerful liveliness

Choked - to become choked in breathing; to lose one's composure and fail to perform effectively in a critical situation

Clear - easily heard

Cloying - excessively sweet or sentimental

Coarse - crude or unrefined; harsh, raucous, or rough in tone

Complacent - unconcerned; self-satisfied

Conflicted - to be out of harmony or agreement usually noticeably

Contralto - a singing voice having a range between tenor and mezzo-soprano

Cracked- marked by harshness, dissonance, or failure to sustain a tone

Creaky - marked by creaking; squeaky

Croaking - to utter in a hoarse raucous voice

Crisp - notably sharp, clean-cut, and clear

Crooning - to sing or speak in a gentle murmuring manner

Curt - sparing of words; terse

Discordant - shrill; marked by or producing a harsh combination of sounds

Drawling - to speak slowly with vowel sounds that are longer than usual

Dreamy - quiet and soothing; delightful, ideal

Dry - reserved, aloof; lacking smooth sound qualities

Dulcet - pleasing to the ear; generally pleasing or agreeable

Earnest - characterized by an intense and serious state of mind

Ethereal - marked by unusual delicacy or refinement

Falsetto - an artificially high voice

Faint - lacking strength or vigor; performed weakly or languidly

Feathery - extremely light

Feeble - indicating weakness

Firm - not weak or uncertain; vigorous

Flat - lower than the proper pitch; lacking in animation, zest, or vigor; dull

Fierce - marked by unrestrained zeal or vehemence

Fretful - disposed to fret; irritable, restless

Gentle - soft, delicate

Goofy - being ridiculous or mildly ludicrous; silly

Grating - having a harsh or unpleasant sound

Guttural - articulated in the throat; velar (i.e., formed with the back of the tongue touching or near the soft palate)

Hesitant - slow to act or proceed (as from fear, indecision, or unwillingness); showing or feeling reluctance or hesitation

Hissing - to make a sharp sibilant sound; to utter or whisper angrily or threateningly and with a hiss

Honeyed - pleasingly sweet

Husky - hoarse with or as if with emotion

Hypnotic - readily holding the attention; soothing; tending to cause sleep

Indifferent - marked by a lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern; apathetic

Insinuating - tending gradually to cause doubt, distrust, or change of outlook often in a slyly subtle manner

Jubilant - feeling or expressing great joy; exultant

Lifeless - lacking qualities expressive of life and vigor; insipid

Lilting - characterized by a rhythmical swing or cadence

Lush - sensual; pleasing to the physical senses

Mellifluous - having a smooth rich flow

Melodious - having a pleasing melody

Monotonous - tediously uniform or unvarying in tone

Nasal - characterized by resonance produced through the nose

Neutral - produced with the tongue in the position it has when at rest

Obsequious - marked by or exhibiting a fawning attentiveness

Piercing - loud, shrill

Piping - shrill

Polished - characterized by a high degree of development or refinement

Punchy - vivid, vibrant

Querulous - habitually complaining; fretful, whining

Raucous - disagreeably harsh or strident; hoarse

Reedy - having the tone quality of a reed instrument

Resonant - continuing to sound; echoing

Ribald - marked by coarseness or lewdness; crude, offensive

Robust - having or showing vigor, strength, or firmness

Saccharine - ingratiatingly agreeable or friendly; overly sentimental; mawkish

Scornful - full of scorn; contemptuous

Sibilant - having, containing, or producing the sound of or a sound resembling that of the s or the sh in sash

Silken - agreeably smooth; harmonious

Silvery - having a soft high clear musical tone

Sleek - smooth in speech or manner

Sluggish - markedly slow in movement, flow, or growth

Slurring - to utter with such reduction, substitution, or omission of sounds

Sly - lightly mischievous; roguish

Smarmy - revealing or marked by a smug, ingratiating, or false earnestness

Smoky - having a low throaty quality

Snide - slyly disparaging; insinuating

Somber - of a serious mien; grave

Sonorous - full or loud in sound

Soprano - the highest singing voice of women or boys and formerly of castrati, also: a person having this voice

Sour - unpleasant, distasteful

Staccato - marked by short clear-cut singing of tones or chords; disjointed

Steely - resembling or suggesting steel (as in hardness, strength, or coldness)

Strained - done or produced with excessive effort

Strident - characterized by harsh, insistent, and discordant sound

Stony - manifesting no movement or reaction; dumb, expressionless

Suave - smooth in texture, performance, or style

Surly - irritably sullen and churlish in mood or manner; crabbed

Tart - marked by a biting, acrimonious, or cutting quality

Teasing - to disturb or annoy by persistent irritating or provoking especially in a petty or mischievous way

Tender - delicate or soft in quality or tone

Throaty - heavy, thick, and deep as if from the throat

Thunderous - marked by a high volume of sound

Tremulous - such as is or might be caused by nervousness or shakiness

Unctuous - having, revealing, or marked by a smug, ingratiating, and false earnestness or spirituality

Undulating - to rise and fall in volume, pitch, or cadence

Velvety - having the character of velvet as in being soft, smooth, or thick

Wheezy - wheezing (i.e., breathe with difficulty usually with a whistling sound)

Whiny - having a high-pitched, shrill or plaintive quality

Wistful - full of yearning or desire tinged with melancholy

Effectively describing a voice requires encapsulating the volume, pitch, tone, style, and feeling evoked by the character. Choose specific adjectives to capture your character's voice.

Here is a category system that is fairly standard:

Soprano: C4 to A5 vocal range

Mezzo-soprano: A3 to F5 vocal range

Alto: F3 to D5 vocal range

Tenor: B2 to G4 vocal range

Baritone: G2 to E4 vocal range

Bass: E2 to C4 vocal range

Basically: if it’s a descriptive adjective, it can probably be used to describe the voice of a character. You want whomever is reading the description to immediately “hear” what makes the character unique. 

5 Tips for Writing Character Accents

Accents give us information about where a character is from, and the use of distinct speech patterns can give your story a rich texture and flavor.

Here are some tips to consider when giving your characters accents:

1. Make sure your character’s speech isn’t distracting

When writing dialect or a particular accent, it can be tempting to write a character’s dialogue using phonetic spellings.

However, this use of dialect can distract your reader.

If your character is French and is constantly saying “ze” instead of “the,” the reader will be focusing more on decoding the line of dialogue than they will on plot or character development.

When writing fiction, your reader’s attention should always be on the story, and anything that distracts from that probably isn’t worth including.

2. Research slang and colloquialisms

Each region of the world has its own standard pronunciation, sentence structure, and slang.

If your main character has an Australian, Jamaican, Spanish, or Scottish accent, their word choice will likely be different than if they grew up speaking American English.

Research commonly used foreign words, slang phrases, and colloquialisms from your character's part of the world.

Listen to podcasts that feature speakers from your desired region.

Be as specific as possible. Example:

If your character is from New York, their word choice might be different depending on if they’re from the Bronx or Staten Island.

3. Use pieces of other languages

If you’re writing a character who speaks a foreign language, one way to communicate their accent is to simply include snippets of their native tongue in their lines of dialogue.

This will demonstrate the character’s native language and implied accent without resorting to the distracting eyesore of phonetic spelling.

When writing words from languages besides English, you may need to include accented letters.

Writing accented characters is simple to do on a common keyboard; you can apply accent marks and special characters by using keyboard shortcuts.

You can also change your keyboard settings to an international keyboard, which will make it easier to type accents that use accent graves or other accent marks.

4. Don’t stereotype

Writing different dialects indelicately can make you appear condescending towards non-native English speakers or people who use the English language differently than you do.

One of the most common offenders is the use of “eye dialect,” which refers to using misspellings or nonstandard spellings in order to depict a character’s accent (for instance, writing “fixin’” with an apostrophe instead of “fixing” in order to demonstrate Appalachian or Southern accents).

By focusing on the “otherness” of regional dialects and non-native speakers, a writer may give the impression that they are making fun of the way people speak.

When writing different accents, keep eye dialect to a minimum.

5. Recognize that character speech is determined by context

Accents aren’t always determined by region or nationality.

Sometimes, our own accents change depending on who we’re speaking to or our emotional or physical state.

We may slur our speech when we’re drunk, or we may attempt to use complex English words when we’re speaking with someone we perceive to be of a higher status.

Seeing a character change their accents in different contexts can serve as a clever way of revealing the emotional condition of a character.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Writing Notes: Tone

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

[artificialbreezy]

working on this asap

@thefallennightmare and you both said full send

Had a discussion about dark jolly with @artificialbreezy last night and…

[cupids-chamber]

— " MR . HEADMASTER ? " Slightly suggestive content / gender neutral reader

He coddled into your neck, snuggling deeper into your embrace; a dazed sigh escapes the man as he grasps at your body, binding himself into your embrace. You could feel his body relax within your arms, warmth radiating off of one another. Slowly you reached out, running your hands up his torso and up to his neck, the touch lingered on his skin, even though the clothes everywhere you touched radiated with warmth; his eyes widened as you gently pulled at his collar. A cheeky grin overlapped your features, as you took in, just how affected he is with your subtle actions.  

His breath hitched as you lightly grazed your fingers through his hair; carefully you tighten your grasp and tug him back using his hair. The action resulted in him releasing a whine; in protest all the while the two of you come face to face. Taking in his flustered features, you let out a breezy chuckle, if you hadn’t known any better you would’ve sworn he had gotten redder than before. 

Softly you made use of your free hand, lifting his face up, slowly pulling his face closer to you. You leaned down causing the two of your foreheads to touch, you watched as his eyes widened slightly and he began babbling some sort of nonsense you’d rather not pay attention too. It didn’t take long before you leaned down and settled the distance between one another. 

Swallowing his whines, you carefully analyzed how he came undone in your grasp, how even the bare touch of your fingertips against his skin could rile him up, so easily. You took in all the small details before letting him go. He struck you with a confused look, his face flustered with a look of slight annoyance and displeasure at the abrupt pause; you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t you have work to finish, Mr. headmaster?”

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[rustedhearts]

sentimental reasons (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: sunday afternoon musings in autumn.

uses she her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring ✶

tags: pregnant!reader, fluff, that’s about it.

sentimental reasons - nat king cole

hawkins, indiana, october 20th 1996

“I wonder if she’ll have my eyes.”

“Hmm. I hope.”

Steve’s lashes tickled the tip of your finger as it delicately scaled the soft tissue of his eyelid. His lip quirked, nose twitching when you came to trace the slope of it: bent sideways by brutal fists barreling into cartilage. But once, it was smooth and straight. No matter how crooked or left-leaning it was these days, you still found it handsome.

“Hope she doesn’t get stuck with that,” Steve snorted, and you frowned as you smoothed your thumb over the swollen bridge. “Hope she has her mama’s.”

Steve lifted his hand from where it rested on your stomach to bop your nose. You smiled, fingers pushing through the long tresses framing his face. You had been reclining on your back for a few hours now, late-term pregnancy responsible for consistent exhaustion and sore ligaments. It felt like the whole of you existed in the front, and sometimes you worried you were walking on a forward slant.

The house smelled like the slowly-browned roast your mother brought you, warming in the crockpot; the sweet aroma of brown sugar carrots and the bitter snap of celery. From your open window: damp earth and the musk of goldenrod leaves. It smelled like home.

Cheek pressed gently to your stomach, chapped hands feeling for flutters and kicks, massaging your aches through a faded, stretched-out tee: Steve. He smelled like a morning Marlboro—faded and nipped away by the wind—and the woodsy vanilla of your laundry detergent. He smelled like Steve. He felt like Steve: warm and firm and lovely. Cocooned between his half-pressed weight and the softness of the comforter, you felt you could’ve lied there for the rest of your life.

You closed your eyes and listened to the leaves rustle in the afternoon. The distant babble of youthful laughter. The whoosh of rubber on asphalt at thirty-five miles an hour. The crunch of bike tires over the pile of leaves Steve raked and then left on the tree lawn so he could tend to you.

He heard your silence from the front yard. He felt your ache.

“It’s funny,” Steve murmured, eyes wide and alert, finger trailing a path down the roundness of your bump. “I never thought I’d be here. Never thought I’d have…another part of me. Like this.”

He flattened his palm to rub across your belly, spreading a blissful massage that had you shifting. Expelling a breezy sigh, you blindly tucked a patch of hair behind Steve’s ear. Soft, just-shampooed: vetiver and musk.

“She’s all ours, baby,” he whispered.

The room swayed in the stillness. Like being cradled in a lullaby, gently rocked to sleep by one dreamy, autumnal afternoon. You felt like you were floating, gently bobbing to the rush and recede of the sea.

"Kinda scary to think about," you returned a moment later, just as quietly. You peeped your eyes open to find Steve's face.

Smoothed into mindless relaxation, he watched his own hand lift over the mound of your bump. Back and forth, over the swell and down the valleys. His wedding band caught a spark of pale afternoon light: thick silver tungsten around his ring finger. Unbreakable. Irreplaceable.

Work got in the way of him wearing it often, but on long weekends like this—when you slipped away from the busy, sunny California life for a slice of small town America back home—Steve slipped the ring on and never took it off.

He liked seeing it on his hand. He liked hearing it clink with yours when you held hands at night. He liked seeing them together—your ring, his ring—and knowing: this was eternal.

"God I hope I don't fuck it up."

You tipped your head on the pillow, craning to find Steve. You gently scraped your nails over his scalp, watching them create gaps in his mop of hair.

"You won't," you cooed. "No more than all the other parents."

Steve's lips curled into a pursed smile, handsome and boyish. Your chest stuttered a moment.

"Thanks, angel. Think 'm just nervous," he sighed, words tight between his teeth with his chin pressed to your belly.

You shifted again, socked feet rubbing his sides. "Me too. My mom said she used to throw up just from nerves right before she had me, but I think I turned out alright."

He breezed into another grin, a scoffed laugh shooting from his mouth. "Yeah."

You twirled a strand of hair near his brow around your finger. It curled into shape, tickling his eye.

"Wonder if my mom was nervous with me," he whispered.

You took pause, scanning the surface of his face. His eyes flicked away from your stomach toward your own, and he instantly scoffed and shifted on his stomach.

"Ah, shit, sorry. That was—sorry—"

"Baby, hey," you awed, reaching down to cup his face. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to wonder."

Steve halted a moment. Staring at you, head risen from his place on your center body, eyes a little rounder and wider and laced with pleading. Softened and sweet, you flashed him a small, reassuring smile and scratched your nails against his scalp again. He slowly sank back down, rubbing his cheek against your clothed belly.

“‘Kay,” he murmured.

“Wanna talk more about it—“

“No, baby. Just…wanna talk about names.”

You giggled. “Names?”

You could see the coil of his mouth from here, how the side of his face lifted with the small quirk of muscle.

“Yeah. Been thinkin’ about what we’re gonna name little Harrington.”

Your heart swelled to double the size, aching in your chest. You could barely contain the burst of adoration blooming with a pulse.

“You have?”

Steve’s finger made a zig-zag trail on your belly again. “Mhm. So…let me see it.”

You blinked, brows etching together. “See what?”

Steve turned his head, hair dragging across your belly and flouncing from his face. “The notebook.”

You clapped your hands together with a giddy grin. You’ve kept a notebook of baby names since your first sonogram. You knew you were getting ahead of yourself, and there were chances the pregnancy wouldn’t stick—but all you could think about was what you’d name your child. When you found out it was a girl, that you’d have a daughter, the notebook immediately became a place of scribbles and exclamation marks and highlighted stars.

Interestingly enough, when you started to show a bump beneath your clothes and required more assistance for daily tasks, Steve swapped roles with you as the worrier. He helped you up and down stairs, poured your cereal, made you smoothies, cut your steak, and did his best to do the cleaning exactly the way you did it.

Steve was terrified you’d lose the baby, and that it would be all his fault.

For some reason, naming the baby felt like “jinxing it” to him.

“Really, you wanna see it?” you squealed, capturing your lip between your teeth.

Steve chuckled, a deep, grumbling sound that shuddered through you. “Yeah, baby.”

“Okay good, because I can’t get up.”

Steve chortled, shifting on his stomach to press a kiss to your belly, wide hands spanned on either side. He wiggled off the bed and headed toward the door, rounding the corner toward the library room.

The Hawkins house, made the Harrington residence circa 1994, had a gorgeous, oak-shelved room full of first editions and signed copies. Steve spared no expense when it came to your little corner of the house, where he often found you curled up in the window seat scribbling in a journal, or scanning a book. You had a desk against the wallpapered wall, where a type writer from 1935 found at a flea market in Virginia sat with every intention of good use. Steve hated the sound of your clacking, but you said the sound was “transcendent.”

Steve padded into the room, blanketed in a pale grey darkness as the sky muddled with rain clouds. The window came to a peak in a rounded arch, wet with old rain drops from last night’s shower. Collections of leaves from the oak tree looming in the yard congregated on the glass in groups of yellow.

He found the notebook on the desk beneath your piles of paper, all full of ink. Steve fought the urge to filter through it as he returned to the bedroom.

You struggled to sit yourself up, wobbling on your palms like doing the crab walk. Steve flung the notebook toward the bed and rushed to your side, hands at the ready.

“Baby,” he huffed, hoisting you toward the pillows at the headboard, which he fluffed adamantly as you settled back. “Wait for me.”

Your eyes rolled, though you were already out of breath. “I had it.”

He shot you a pointed look through narrowed brows, and fumbled for the notebook at the edge of the mattress. He settled beside you, and as the air followed his motions, you caught whiffs of damp soil from his time outside this morning.

“Okay, open it,” you insisted, voice wavering with delight.

Steve flipped the spine open, revealing the first lined page of paper with your familiar writing.

“Jesus Christ, honey,” Steve drawled, pulling the notebook back an inch to take it all in. His eyesight had been slipping for the past year and a half.

He needed glasses, but refused to wear them.

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you tipped your head over to get a peek of your work. “I had a lot of ideas.”

"And they're...alphabetized," Steve commented, tone thick with amusement.

"Obviously."

Steve scanned the list of names, eyes shuttering half-closed and popping back open like a camera lens. The ones he didn’t like got a screwed up face in response. Steve had a headache by the time he got to the fourth page, and the names weren't stopping.

Only few caught his eye: Alice, Caroline, Catherine, Eloise, Emma, Lily, Josephine, Jane, Winnie.

As he continued to scan, he found himself pairing the names with his own surname. Alice Harrington, Catherine Harrington, Lily Harrington. None had the ring he thought they would.

"Do you have a favorite?" he asked, flipping pages again.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you gently skirted the pads of your finger over the warm skin of his forearm. You trailed them to the bone of his knuckle, feeling the purple veins protruding beneath the flesh, plumped from overexertion.

"Mhm," you hummed. "But I don't want to sway you."

Steve turned his head, lips brushing your temple. "It's Jane."

You lifted your head so quickly that it knocked Steve's chin, and he tongued away the pain with a wordless grimace as your face bloomed with warm thrill. You gazed at your husband in delightful wonderment.

"How did you know?"

"It had five stars next to it."

You giggled, warmth increasing. "Oh."

"And," he added, head cocking to pop a kiss on your cheek. "I remember you mentioned that name before. Back when we were still dating, talkin' about kids. You said you always loved the name Jane, and if you ever had a girl, that would be your top choice."

Looping your arm around Steve's, you squeezed him close and nuzzled his neck. "Oh, Steve, you are so hot right now."

Steve's laughter was sharp and surprised, and he snapped the notebook closed to toss it aside. Hands free and desiring your touch, he gently pulled at your legs until you reclined flat on the bed again.

"I know."

Mounting over you with an agreeable and cautious space between his body and your bump, he pressed a gentle pepper of smooches to your face. You ran your hands across his chest, playing with the silver chain around his neck, thin and linked.

"So...Jane it is?"

Steve pulled back, eyes flicking between yours. His features were soft, a sharp contrast to the scars and bruises they regularly carried. He brushed the back of two fingers across your brow, guiding your hair away.

"Jane it is, my love."

♡ ♡

[breezycheezyart]

28, babyyy 🥳🎂

[artificialbreezy]

babe your wallet HATES to see me coming, i got some!! and some holiday vibe ones if you’re interested in those too!!!

sugar lake series by emily mcintire

the becker brothers series by kandi steiner

the lovelight series by bk borison

part of your world by abby jimenez

the chestnut springs series - elsie silver

rebel blue ranch series by lyla sage (these have my heart)

i have so many more!!

My favortie book genre rn is small town romance, does anyone have any good recommendation?🥹💗

I finished Lucy Score's Knockemout series (loved it!) and now I'm reading the second book from Benevolence series. I like her style of writing, but I'd also love to try different authors!

[crystalitecloudie]

It's 4 am and I know I should be asleep... BUT I HAD A SAHSRAU IDEA (specifically cult!au with creators and stuff) AND I CAN'T IGNORE IT

This is gender neutral btw

EDIT: here is the link to part 2

Imagine...

You first descend into this world as the player, simply falling asleep in our world, and waking up in theirs. You wake up in Jarilo-VI, specifically in the bountiful snowy landscapes outside Belobog. However, at first, you believe it to be simply a vivid dream.

This is because when you touch the snow, it feels lukewarm to you. In fact, you are simply in flowy clothes (dress, shirt and pants, doesn't matter). You're dressed for a breezy summer picnic, not the harsh, unsurvivable winters of the Eternal Freeze.

But that does not stop barefoot you. You simply do not feel the cold, and it does not affect your body in turn.

The fragmentum monsters also pay no mind to you. They do not actively try to befriend you, but extended periods of time around them does not corrupt your mind like a mere mortal's would. You simply co-exist together with them.

However, after months of living in the Eternal Freeze, you have come to realize this is not a dream. You have yet to realize you are in the world of Honkai Star Rail, and are simply living a peaceful and voidous life.

That is... until Sampo finds you. He asks you to hide him, and when guards approach you, you have been so detached from human civilization that you are barely able to make conversation. You think in full, clear sentences, but your words stumble out like that of a child learning to walk and talk. They are accusing you of helping a criminal, along with three others that you know to be Stelle, March 7th, and Dan Heng. However, you certainly don't let on any clue that you know these people.

You're smarter than that.

And with your babbling like a child, Gepard and the other guards quickly assume that your mind, likewise, is also dumb and toddler-like. Innocent and naive. And as you are led into the city of Belobog's overworld, you realize that you are okay with this. You are a pretty, innocent babbling face, and appearing so allowed you to get away with quite a few things.

For example, when the trio of friends was chased into the underworld, you were not faced with similar charges. Instead, Cocolia forced you into a room in her palace, saying something about how the creator deserved the utmost respect.

You didn't really understand why you were being locked in a room and not allowed to leave, but if it meant free food and all the toys in the world, you could not care less. Humans were interesting creatures anyhow.

Even when you came to understand that this was not a simple Isekai, you simply wondered how the Supreme Guardian knew of your divine heritage. You had planned to keep it hidden for much, much longer... but alas.

I would write more but just seriously need to go to bed istg

Just credit me if you use this concept I guess idk I'm tired