#or they may only slow down as I make art of other things

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 19

(I know I'm tech on a break this week, but I could use the serotonin.) masterpost

“He understands that I am coming over?” Damian asked as he inspected his pencil case to make sure he had everything he needed. Father would be picking him up from art class to fetch lunch.

“Yep, Danny knows we’re bringing lunch over,” Grayson answered. His thumb swiped idly across his phone.

Damian took a slow breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He loved Grayson, but it did not mean that the other was not an idiot sometimes. Sometimes family meant loving someone even though they were an idiot, Damian reminded himself.

In an attempt to start again, Damian stayed silent until he was sure that he had all of his supplies in his messenger bag. “I meant, does Danny understand that it is specifically me bringing the food? Does Danny understand who I am?”

“Oh, Dami baby, yeah,” Grayson said, voice softening in a way that made Damian bristle. At least Grayson finally set his phone down. “Jay talked to him about it and is still there at the apartment with Danny now. I’ll over over to give Jason a break and be there when you and Bruce come. Do you want me to double check with Danny before you arrive?”

Damian frowned as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

“Yes,” Damian answered after a pause and when he could meet Grayson’s eyes confidently. “I believe that the redundancy would not go amiss.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll be sure to double check before you and Bruce get there.”

“Acceptable,” Damian said and let to find Pennyworth for his ride to class.

Doing art calmed him. That knowledge had been a surprise at first. While Damian had, of course, learned about art as part of his cultural and historical training, actually being able to engage in art was was something entirely knew. Something that was available to Damian only because of his Father’s allowance.

No, that was not quite right. Father didn’t allow Damian to do art, Father simply wanted them to be happy and art is what made Damian… perhaps not happy, but at least more at peace.

Peace had been such a rare thing in Damian’s life.

He still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Annoyingly, class that day didn’t quite manage to tamper the churning in Damian’s gut. He could (and would) ignore the feeling, of course, but that did not mean it wasn’t there.

Or that it didn’t grow as Damian was waiting for Father to pick him up for class.

“You have put in the order we discussed?” Damian asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Yes, it should be ready shortly after we get there,” Father answered. “You were out quickly today.”

“Tch,” Damian looked away from his father’s searching gaze and focused on the world outside the window. He hated to have tells, but in a family of detectives it was impossible not to. “If it unlikely to be ready, perhaps we should stop by the Turkish bakery that is near. Surely there are items there that are not too sweet for his diet.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Father agreed with a thoughtful hum. “He may have never had them before so we can get a little selection of what you think he needs to try.”

Damian worked not to physically freeze. That felt suddenly like a great deal of responsibility. Which was silly, it was simply food.

“That is a sound idea,” Damian said instead of trying to face his sudden worry.

It was even more overwhelming in the face of all the options. Damian certainly spent far too long making a selection, but Father doesn’t rush him, so Damian tries to allow himself the time. The food is easily acquired after. Far too quickly that they were in front of the safehouse door. Father rested one hand on the back of Damian’s back, a bracing presence, before he knocked.

“Coming!” Grayson called needlessly through the door a few moments before he it swung open. “Hey guys, come in. It’s all good.”

Damian resisted the urge to nod to that, took a breath, and crossed the threshold.

Danny sat on the couch. The fabled day saving blue bear was clutched in the boy’s lap; clutched too tightly. Damian shot Grayson an accusatory look. Clearly it wasn’t ‘all good’.

Grayson rolled his eyes and took the box of sweets from Damian to take to the kitchen with Father.

Damian was left alone with Danny.

At least it gave Damian time to properly study the other boy. Not blood son. Clone. Better and worse at once— a copy of Father. It was clear how much Danny looked like Bruce, a redundant thought now that they knew Danny was a clone, but it crossed Damian’s mind all the same. It was odd to see the still slightly sunken cheeks and too prominent collar bones on someone that looked so much like Father, so much more like Father than Damian did.

Idly, Damian wondered if Danny would ever reach Father’s stature, what with his past. Damian himself had started to grown into wild shoulders and broad chest that would someday be his body over the last year, but Danny had not.

Danny, at least a year older, was still far too slight.

But older.

The oldest blood.

Would he try to take Damian’s place now? It would only be just, with how poorly Damian had behaved when he first arrived, especially to Drake. And Damian’s brash attacks, Danny would have the right to his. He was oldest…

“Are… are you alright?”

Damian’s head snapped up at Danny’s words. When had he lost his focus?

“I do not know,” Damian said, too honest words tumbling across his tongue without his permission.

He didn’t know.

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[x-i-l-verify]

Something that I've noticed ever since the Smiling Critters were introduced is that they can so easily be paired off into complementary duos, ones that are specifically designed to teach children fundamental lessons about life and self-care from two different angles. It's really interesting to me.

Like obviously you have Dogday and Catnap, with their sun/moon, dog/cat dichotomy, that stress how important it is to have fun and get things done during the day, but also that it's important to wind down, relax, and get a good night's sleep.

-

Bubba Bubbaphant and Craftycorn were introduced as a duo in the Smiling Critter show's intro, and their dichotomy is quite obvious. They are basically the right and left sides of the brain personified. Bubba is the left side of the brain, logical, analytical, focused on math and science. Craftycorn is the right side of the brain, creative and imaginative, focused on the arts and self-expression. They represent learning and academia in all its forms, the different ways people engage with and understand the world.

-

Hoppy Hopscotch and Kickin' Chicken form the sportsmanship duo. They are both portrayed as enjoying sports and the outdoors, but in different ways that highlight the different ways sports can be played and enjoyed and also what it entails to be successful at them. Hoppy Hopscotch may be loud and impatient, but she is also a team player, shown in her willingness to slow down her fast pace to make sure none of her friends are left behind. Kickin' Chicken, on the other hand, is laid-back, relaxed, and chill, the described "cool kid" of the group, but he's also described as having a ton of perseverance, more of a "slow and steady wins the race" type of person.

-

This leaves Bobby Bearhug and Picky Piggy as the last pair. Fittingly, these two are all about how to meet the fundamental needs of yourself and others. Bobby teaches children how to nourish themselves emotionally through showing and receiving care from others, while Picky teaches them how good food is important to nourish the body and soul. Depriving oneself of either of these things only makes oneself and therefore everyone around one miserable, because those fundamental needs are no longer being met.

-

Like fr, this is some pretty genius marketing right here. You have enough characters that every kid will have their favorite, but not so many that any would get lost in the shuffle, because the lessons each one of them would teach would be integral to the group as a whole. It really makes me that much sadder we saw basically nothing of the Smiling Critters during the game itself, because Mob Games struck gold with this concept, only to ultimately do nothing with it. :/

But I guess that's what fandom is for, eh?

[teratosubmission]

 Humanfucker here, Humans are the most underrated Monsters

I’ve always had a thing for humans. I mean, there’s a lot of physical appeal to them. They’re small and cute and have beautiful contours and big personalities but you can just overpower them at any time and rail the cuteness out of them and fuuuuck. But there’s much more to a human that I think goes underappreciated with fellow humanfuckers and the larger monsterfucker community at large.

A human has hands, soft and dexterous. It’s said that their sense of touch Is massively amplified on their fingertips. And humans are exceptionally skilled at the soft touch (They have a lot words for soft touch in their language, like stroke, pet, caress, ect, which only make sense when you realize how important it is in their culture). A slow, gentle trace down your spine or up your legs can activate nerve receptors other monsters simply cannot, and it can feel extremely pleasurable when a human is behind you gently rubbing their hands over your back. While many monsters use their strength to keep their mates from leaving, humans often rely on their soft touch, which feels so overwhelmingly pleasurable you don’t -want- to leave. If you ever wondered how a small human can wrangle such giant monsters like minotaurs or werewolves, that’s how.

And the reverse is also true, humans are the most physically sensitive creatures, with the majority of their body being highly erogenous zones. It’s as if they were evolved for lovemaking, and entire subcultures exist around the concept of sex. (EDIT – so I did some research and apparently many humans are skilled enough to practice an erotic art called Massage (muh sahj), and apparently their hands can have healing qualities to them, soothing your aching muscles and overall just feeling really fucking good. Unfortunately its best done on their own kind, since they know their own biology and are basically built to enjoy it best, but I’m hopeful there are humans that are learning on other monsters and getting good at Massage for them… God I hope so, anyway, I want to experience Massage.)

I love their voices. A human, in my opinion, has some of the most beautiful noises you could ever have the pleasure of listening to. You could be engaged in conversation with one and find yourself lulling to the beauty of their voice. You could be fucking one and listening to how cutely they moan and whimper, it functions like an aphrodisiac for their partners. Apparently they don’t actually have persuasive superpowers in sex, but I don’t think that’s right, since every time they’ve moaned for me to cum for them, I’ve burst immediately.

Unlike most monsters, humans don’t have a breeding season. They’re ready to go at any time (sometimes they may need coaxing though~, I’ll link some guides on seducing humans). Now, if you want to actually breed one of the females you’ll have to understand a bit more about their cycles, but generally speaking you can just have at it till they’re eventually impregnated.

Humans have sexual dimorphism like most other monsters, but what’s intriguing is just how wide a range that dimorphism is, and how easily its defied as well. Want a male with feminine features? An exceptionally strong masculine female? Value something in between? Or perhaps you want a gender with the opposite genitalia? There’s something for everyone, which in turn makes them one of the most accessible and popular monsters available. But like I’ve said before, there’s so much more to them than their physique.

❤️ Anyway, humans are the best monsters and I hope someday to meet one! ❤️

[natalievoncatte]

This was going to happen; it was inevitable the moment that Lena chose this course and began preparing to enact the plan. The timing was the mystery, the where and when. Thinking back on it later, she should have known better. Supergirl liked dramatic entrances, and she liked having Lena to herself when she talked. Surprisingly for someone who flew around in primary colors and smiled cheerfully for the cameras, she knew how to be discreet.

There was a double thud as the stacked heels of Supergirl’s boots touched down on the balcony behind her. Lena didn’t look up from her work. Not for the first time, she wondered if Supergirl used her super-senses to read other people. Lena’s heart sped up when she heard the landing and her breath caught, but she remained calm and smooth when she spoke.

“You may as well come in. We’re on the ninety-sixth floor. I don’t bother locking it.”

The glass door slid quietly on oiled plastic runners, and a gust of chilly night air rolled over Lena’s shoulders, causing her ponytail to slide from its place and dangle down her back. She’d changed earlier out of her power suit and exchanged her tight high ponytail for a loose, comfortable one. She was planning an an all-nighter.

“You should lock the door. There are dangerous people out there. Among other things.”

“If any of them have it in for me, they’re not going to be slowed down much by the balcony door, Supergirl.”

There was a soft sigh behind her. “We need to talk.”

Lena smirked. “Why is that? Are you worried my new car saving machine will pull all the cats out of the trees and out you out of work? I’m still working out all the kinks.”

“Miss Luthor…”

“Speaking of kinks, maybe you could help me out. I’ve got a terrible crick in my neck and could use a super-neck rub.”

“Miss Luthor,”

“Or if you’re not busy, you could run and grab us some takeout. I’m thinking Thai, how about you?”

“Lena!”

Sighing, she turned around, tearing her attention from her work. Supergirl had her arms folded, displaying those impressive muscles of hers, and was looking at Lena with an expression of stern concern, something soft and a little worried in her eyes.

“What’s the occasion, then? Let me guess, someone wants to assassinate me.”

Supergirl sighed and let her arms fall. “You need to take this seriously. Right now, I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

“And why is that?”

Supergirl edged closer, her cape swirling slightly behind her. She put a hand on Lena’s desk and leaned over her.

“Because you’re been buying up every ounce of Kryptonite you can find.”

Her pulse began to race and she fought the urge to sink back from the piercing blue eyes that stared into hers.

“That’s not possible. Your cousin destroyed it all.”

“Not all of it,” said Supergirl. “The DEO keeps some, and there’s some floating around on the black market, usually mistaken for something else.”

“What makes you think that I didn’t just stumble across some? I inherited an extensive collection of art and sculpture, Supergirl, and I’m always adding to it. Ask Kara Danvers. I’m going to display the bulk of the family collection in a new wing at the city museum.”

“Because the DEO identified and tracked dozens of pieces, including the ones you bought,” Supergirl said, quietly. “It’s a way for us to identify threats and see who’s trafficking in it. You moved them through shell companies and had them smuggled through customs. You’re hiding something.”

Lena pushed to her feet, indignant, leaning into the do confrontation. She stabbed a manicured nail into the center of Supergirl’s chest, right into her big S.

“So now you come storming into my office making accusations?”

Supergirl planted her fists on her hips and stood over Lena, glaring down at her.

“I’m on your side. I’m the only one keeping the DEO from arresting you. I want to believe that there’s a benign reason for this, Lena. But you have to give me one. People think you’re a threat.”

Lena stared back at her, studying her features, her expression.

“It won’t do any good to tell you. Your superiors won’t believe me. They’ve been trying to entrap me ever since I took over the company.”

“They’re not my superiors,” Kara snapped. “I work with them. They have resources and support I need.”

Lena crossed her arms and cocked her head. “They also have Kryptonite. You just admitted that.”

“Lena,” Supergirl snapped.

Quickly, she grabbed a random page from her notes and scribbled, are they listening?

Supergirl looked at it briefly, then at Lena, weighing her options.

Then she nodded.

Lena scrawled on the sheet.

I’m making a cure.

Supergirl started, flinching as she read the note. She blinked almost comically.

Can we talk without anyone listening in? Lena wrote.

Supergirl nodded, taking the paper. She slipped the pen out of Lena’s grasp and scrawled, give me five minutes.

“Fine,” said Lena. “Tell your people they can call a judge. I’m sure they’ll have all the proper papers and warrants and court orders and it will all be nice and legal.”

“I don’t want it to be this way,” said Supergirl. “I want to work together with you. I believe in you, Lena.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it.”

Supergirl huffed, turned, and headed for the balcony, taking off with such force that Lena stumbled back a few steps.

Lena waited, finally moving towards the door to close it, when a folded paper airplane sailed through the opening and came to rest on her desk. She closed the balcony door and grabbed the paper, quickly unfolding it.

They can track my suit. Meet me at the Big Belly on 49th. Leave your phone. Walk. Don’t worry about your safety, I’ll be watching. I’ll be in civilian clothes.

Lena crumpled the note in her pocket. The place Suoergirl meant was a half an hour walk, and Lena was more than a little nervous about walking it at night. So, she grabbed her .357 from her desk drawer and stuffed it in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, and took her private elevator to the ground floor.

When she walked up on the Big Belly, it was of course closed, dark inside with the chairs up on the tables. Lena tensed when she saw a figure approaching in the dark, much like she was, in joggers and a hoodie.

She relaxed when she saw Kara Danvers hiding in that hood. When they crossed paths, Lena stopped and began walking beside her.

“Supergirl said she would meet me herself,” said Lena. “I’m kind of surprised she sent you, Kara.”

“Keep your voice down,” Kara said, softly. “Follow me.”

Kara led her on a trek through downtown, making Lena rather nervous. This part of the city emptied out after hours and it was close to three in the morning, and they were walking alone on empty streets, finally turning off down an alley between two seemingly random buildings.

There, Kara stopped, and sighed.

“Can you really do it? Can you cure Kryptonite poisoning?”

“Yes,” Lena said, excited. “I think I can. I’m very close. I needed the samples I procured so that I could perfect the process.”

Kara’s shoulders hitched a little. She faced away from Lena, and took a step towards the brick wall in front of her.

“They have a device that your brother created. It can disperse Kryptonite through the entire atmosphere in a few minutes.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“It’s how they control me. I don’t know where they keep it, only that they have it. If I step out of line, they’ll poison the atmosphere and kill me.”

“Kill you? Kara what are you talking about? You’re not…”

“I told you I’d meet you in civilian clothes. When I wrote the note in your office.”

Lena stumbled back a step, trying to process what she just heard. Kara was talking as if…

She turned around, facing Lena, and stood to her full height, removing her glasses without sweeping back her hood, and met Lena’s gaze.

“But… you’re…”

“Hush,” Kara said, softly. “I’ll explain everything. Right now we need to move and move fast, before they figure out what I’m up to. How fast can you finish your cure?”

“I need a few days and some things from my lab.”

Kara brought her wrist up and spoke into a hidden radio. “Alex, get ready to move. We’ll need to get to Lena’s lab before the DEO does.”

Lena blinked a few times. What the hell was going on?

“I need to get you someplace safe, then I’ll get you up to speed,” said Kara. “Will you come with me?”

Lena’s heart pounded in her chest. “Where?”

“Safety. I promise, I’ll keep you safe. You’re too dangerous to the DEO, Lena. They’re going to move on you, and I had to beg to give you a chance. Tomorrow someone is going to come make you an offer you can’t refuse, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Lena nodded.

“Alright then. I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Kara nodded.

“Good. Lena Luthor, welcome to the Justice League.”

I had a weird urge to play with the idea of a world where the DEO are a black ops unit that controls Supergirl with the threat of Kryptonite and Lena helps her take them down and save the world. Of course Kara has to be all dramatic about naming the resistance movement.

[thesirencult]

PAC: HOW YOU'LL GET 💵 WEALTHY

PILE 1 🤎

The Hermit

My Pile 1 💕 welcome to your reading.

The path to wealth for you starts first and foremost through a much needed spiritual seclusion.

You will realize that money = energy through this path of learning how to listen to your inner voice.

You need to tune out other people, only for now. Others do not understand your ideas and can not help you.

After you come out of this period of self searching you will make a great mentor out of yourself and a guiding light. That means that the transformation you went through blessed you with wisdom to guide others, either to make money, lose weight, awaken, search for spiritual truth etc.

A simple 9 to 5 won't get you there.

Possible career paths, skills and talents you can leverage and ideas : any work that helps people transform, self development/coaching industry, therapist, spiritual worker, book writing, ability to listen to others, empathy

PILE 2 🤎

5 Of Wands

Dear Pile 2 ❤️,

Contrary to Pile 1 your path to wealth includes "climbing the ladder".

You are well equipped to start from the bottom of an organization and reach partner/C-Suite status.

You will probably get a prestigious degree as I can tell you are an overachiever. This reminds me of Suits. You will fight through and compete.

You have great arguing abilities (law?) and have the stamina to get to the top.

Now, apart from the above, the 5 Of Wands can show physicality. This is a sign for me that some of you need to watch your health and not run yourself down from all the work you do.

PILE 3 🤎

Knight Of Cups

You are passionate and romantic. Your soul is artistic and you want to create beauty in this world.

This is a singer and songwriter, a chef that creates beautiful dishes that drive people crazy. An amateur photographer who takes photos of hotels in beautiful destinations like a professional. Someone who wants to build a clothing brand.

You are multitalented and an eternal child. Stick to your arts and crafts and harness your beautiful energy and creator abilities and you'll be unstoppable.

P.S. Take the opportunities that come your way, it's never too early to meet with success, contrary to what others tell you. You'll never be fully prepared or ready. You may be a Projector.

PILE 4 🤎

9 Of Wands

Sweet Pile 4 🧁,

You have so many great ideas and the perfect foundation to make 💰. Your mindset is already more than halfway there and you have great abilities.

You need to work on romanticising struggle. It doesn't have to be as hard as you make it. Don't take the stairs if there is an escalator. You don't have to prove anything to anyone.

If right now things are slow, remember how far you've come. Even if it is not visible in the physical, the past few years you've accumulated a wealth of knowledge and are ready to take the next step.

Trust in yourself and the Universe. Preserve, defend your position and work both hard and smart.

A few months ago I stumbled across a video with a woman who was a business coach. She asked successful people "How did you make it?" and their answer was "I never stopped."

Never. Ever. Stop.

Source : The Siren Cult

[impala-dreamer]

Who We're Pretending To Be

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

A/N: If you've not seen the Netflix show YOU, this may not be your thing. Still a great story, but it helps to know the show. Also, if you've not seen the show, I suggest you get right on that because it is AMAZING.

Set between Seasons 3 & 4. Slight spoilers for s4, but not really. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The classroom seems cold today, like there’s something missing. It’s distracting. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off, but there’s a charge in the air like something’s about to happen; as if lightning could strike at any second.

I don’t mean proverbial lightning, as none of my students seem to have grasped any of the contextual undertones of the book we’re discussing, but actual, live lightning. If I opened the windows behind my desk just a crack, a bolt would sneak through and bury itself in the base of my skull. Maybe that’s what I need- a jolt of electricity, something to break me out of this fog that crept up around me and climbs forever higher threatening to suffocate me.

I think I’d take the lightning to the skull over suffocation, but we don’t always get what we want.

I’m perched on the edge of the desk when the door opens and Y/N comes rushing in.

Suddenly, all of my attention is on her.

She’s never late. Never rushing, always at least ten minutes early for every appointment, every class. She seems- off today, as well. Perhaps she can feel the imminent lightning strike as well. Wouldn’t that be funny? I find a kindred amongst these idiot grad students who can’t even seem to end this horrid debate.

“I am so sorry, Professor Moore.”

Y/N’s voice cracks a bit, which in itself isn’t very unusual. She’s one of the quieter students I’ve encountered, and the only American in my current circle of acquaintances. Her accent is faint, as if she’s attempting to hide it from her schoolmates. She’s been here a while, I can infer; sprinkling in local slang and adding letters to words where back home there would be none. She’s trying hard to fit in, but why? Why not be herself?

“I got held up by-”

I hold up my hand and smile softly. “It’s fine, Y/N. Please take a seat and try to catch up.”

For fuck’s sake, she’s only twenty minutes late, but it looks like every second has weighed her down like lead.

The others pick up their debate and I sit back a bit, cross my arms, pretend to listen. This teaching thing isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Occasionally, I toss out an idea and let them run with it. Sometimes, I pay attention, mostly I don’t. Mostly I’m thinking of You. Of how beautiful You looked at that art show, of how You gasped when you saw me like You couldn’t decide if You wanted to run to me or away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Y/N timidly raise her hand and You are temporarily pushed aside. She keeps her hand up but close to her chest, as if the very act of asking to speak is somehow terrifying.

How can someone so brave be so terrified to do something as common as speak in class? She’s clearly not a scared person by nature- she moved across an ocean to attend university when she could have gone for free back home to whatever state college she decided to attend. I’ve peeked at her transcripts- she’s smart. Not win a genius grant or a full ride smart, but smart. Why is she so nervous?

I smile and a bit of her nerves seem to quell. Her shoulders relax an inch and she smiles back.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, Y/N,” I tell her, laughing gently to put her at ease.

She dips her chin and then looks up with the most beautiful gaze I have ever seen. Her lashes flutter upwards in slow motion, the darkness of her pupils expand, pushing nearly every fleck of color away except the gemlike glow cast by the stained glass window over my head. She smiles and her lips shine like glass. Soft, pink, beautiful glass. I can’t look away and yet I absolutely have to. Thankfully, she speaks and I can act like I’m moving away to sit in my chair and not to get away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, sweet voice sweeping over the room. “I just didn’t want to jump in because I was late but-”

“But you have something to add,” I finish for her.

Her eyes float back to me and the atmosphere shifts. The foreboding of a lighting strike vanishes and the room seems to warm up. Quickly, I sit and scoot the chair close to the desk, set my elbows on the top, clasp my hands near my lips. I can’t stop staring at her.

She nods. “Yes. If that’s alright.”

There it is again, the tiniest speck of British on her tongue. How long has she been living here, and why? It can’t just be for school. She’s too interesting for that. She dresses to blend in; muted colors and clean jeans, her hair always swept back, face free of plastering makeup or too much color. There’s only ever that pink gloss and a gentle brush of mascara. It’s as if she doesn't know how beautiful she is, or perhaps, she doesn’t care.

Or was she one of those kids who never really got any attention until they blossomed but by then it was too late to fit into their personality?

She chews her lip nervously and shyly looks away from me.

No, she knows. She knows how beautiful she is, she just isn’t one to flaunt it; doesn’t need the attention. Or is that how she draws them in?

She’s already talking, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying. I can hear her voice, that honey like glaze she adds to things when she’s speaking passionately, but the actual words, the meaning- I can’t follow a damned thing. I’m too busy trying to figure her out.

You flash through my mind for a moment; a sweet memory of a smile in the library when You didn’t think I was looking.

What is it about a smile that says so much without words? Does it show who we really are or who we’re pretending to be?

“I just think that love shouldn’t be so easily condemned.”

Y/N’s comment breaks through my thoughts of You and I clear my throat, straighten up in my chair, focus.

Across the room, Nadia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with Y/N’s interpretation. “This isn’t love, it’s obsession. The two can’t and shouldn’t be intertwined.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip and shakes her head.

What does that lip gloss taste like? Berries, perhaps… No. Stop it. Focus.

“I disagree.” Y/N sits forward and tucks her hands below the table. “Love is obsession. Obsession is love. It’s not a tautology, no, but you can have one with the other. If you’re not even a little obsessed with the person you love, is it really love at all?”

My mind is zinging, my ears ringing. Does she truly believe that, or is it all for the sake of debating Nadia? They’ve been at war most of the semester, but this seems truthful, deep.

The bell rings before I can recenter and add anything. I give my head a little shake and stand up, the chair rolling back behind me.

“Class dismissed. Great job today. Lively, wonderful discourse.” I fake a smile at the rest and then settle on Y/N.

She’s taking her time, hanging back as she gathers her things. She stuffs a notebook into her bag and the pen she’s been using rolls away from her.

“Crap.” She lunges across the table for it, but it’s too close to the edge, too far from her reach.

I drop down at the last second and save it from a dusty fate of rolling across the floor. “Gotcha.”

She’s staring when I stand up. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t shy away, but looks even deeper somehow. A smile lifts her cheeks and my pulse quickens.

No.

She holds out her hand and there’s a fleeting second when I want to trace my fingers across her palm, feel how soft and warm she is, but no. I toss her the pen and turn, trying to get her out of my head.

I have more important things to do than become a tired cliche. Some professor falling for a student. It’s an outrageous thought, and besides, I don’t need Y/N, I have You.

I hear the zipper close and a chair being pushed in. She’s leaving.

She lingers in the door and turns back to me with a sweet smile. “Have a good weekend, Professor.”

Her tone is so genuine, so kind that it nearly knocks me backwards. I can’t remember the last time anyone has truly wished me a good time. It’s such an overused pleasantry, so common and boring, but not when she says it. Not when she smiles at me like that, with her eyes still and focused on me.

The warmth spreading through me is real as well and I can’t seem to push it away. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to stand let alone return the sentiment. “You too.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly but it feels like forever. Two more classes, two more groups of students droning on about what the author really meant, when none of them, not a single one seems to be able to read between the fucking lines. None of them can step back and see the whole picture, capture the meaning as a universe unto itself and not just a line in black and white on an otherwise blank page.

Y/N could read between the lines. Y/N would understand the sum of it all. She would get it.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

On my walk home, I think about You. Wondering what You’re up to, where You are tonight. The sun is setting, dragging the sky down into a deep pink and I wonder if You are seeing the same colors where You are. Someday, we’ll sit together on an island in the Pacific and see what that sunset looks like. Would You paint it for me, I wonder…

Y/N crosses my mind for a moment as I gaze at the light reflecting off a window as I pass. Would the sunset hit her shining lip gloss in the same way? Would the pink deepen with the sky? Would she smile if she caught me staring, back away if I leaned in to drag my thumb across her juicy, pink bottom lip?

No.

Darkness has settled and I haven’t moved to turn on a lamp. I’m stuck, glued to my sofa, my hands nailed to my thighs. I keep my eyes open for fear of seeing her face, but bouncing around the room looking for a distraction is only giving me a headache. I need to get out. I need something to do. I need-

A knock at the door.

Who would be knocking at my door at nearly ten o’clock at night?

Curiosity pulls me off of the couch and I switch on the lights as I head to the door. The peephole is clouded as fuck, but I can see her outline. My stomach tightens, my shoulders tense.

What is she doing here?

Her hand raises to knock again, but I unlatch the door before her knuckles hand. I find her dangling in the air, her startled face the most appealing thing I’ve seen in ages. Her eyes go wide, her jaw drops just enough to give me a peek at her tongue. Quickly, she rights herself and shies her gaze away. She chews her lip and I notice the pink gloss is gone, replaced by a deeper red.

Everything about her is different tonight. Her hair is down and fresh, her eyes are lined in black and the color blended above brings out the prisms in her eyes. Her clothes are strange as well: a short skirt, tall boots, a blouse that’s too tight to hide anything. There’s a gold string around her throat, something old, a gift perhaps from a dead relative, or a chance find at an antique shop. She would like diving through boxes of discarded wares looking for treasures, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe I’m just distracted by her appearance. Maybe I should stop trying to pick her apart and send her far, far away.

I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed. I’m good. I have to be good for You.

It’s been too long since either of us has said anything and the fact of it is hanging in the air between us like some kind of glowing, awkward sign.

Thankfully, she speaks.

“Um… Hi.”

It isn’t much, but it breaks the painful silence.

I smile, confused but curious. My ultimate downfall.

“Y/N. What are you doing here?”

I should say something about it being inappropriate, something about contacting me only during office hours, but she knows. That’s not why she’s here. I can see it in her eyes.

Her hands are tucked behind her back, I notice. She’s holding something, not just shoving her tits in my face, although, I can’t say that I mind. She sees that I’m looking and turns to the side a bit to hide it more.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming herself, steeling her nerves. Why is she so nervous? What secret is she hiding? What plan has been brewing all day in her head?

That’s it, isn’t it? She was late this morning, distracted and timid because she was planning to come here.

I should be flattered, but I’m too intrigued by her boldness as she slides past me into my flat.

“I know this is highly inappropriate,” she says, the confession like a song on her lips. “But… I… Well…”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way while she searches for the right words. It’s endearing and makes me want to sit for hours and listen to her talk, discover exactly who she is and why.

I’m still standing in the open doorway, I realize, so I move aside and let it close. My back presses into the door and I hold my tongue, letting her get to the point.

She’s struggling, dancing around it in her head.

I want to crack open her skull and watch the thoughts spark through the gray matter like shooting stars.

“If you’re worried you’ll get in trouble,” I say, trying to get things moving, “you won’t. I’m just wondering why you’re here and how it is that you know where I live.”

She laughs and digs her tooth into the corner of her lip. “I’m not… stalking you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Nothing that nefarious,” she goes on. “But I did do something bad.”

The nerves seem to fall away from her the more she speaks and her demeanor changes. Her voice deepens ever so slightly and her hip pops to the side as she looks me over. Is she… flirting with me?

“I doubt you’ve done anything newsworthy, Miss Y/L/N…”

She takes a step forward and her lips pucker gently.

She is flirting with me.

“I hope not,” she says with a little laugh. “You see, I work part time in the admin office…”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know a lot about her. So many things to uncover, so many artifacts to dust off and examine.

“OK…” I push off from the door and take a step towards her. She counters, stepping backwards, guiding me to follow.

“And, well, I accidentally was looking at your files and-”

“Accidentally?”

She presses her tongue between her front teeth and smiles, eyes falling across my face. “Accidentally on purpose,” she clarifies. “I was… curious.”

“About me?”

Another step closer but she doesn’t move this time, letting me close the space between us by a few forbidden inches.

She sighs sweetly. “A little, yes.”

I dip my chin and look up, lifting my brows in question. She pulls in a quick breath, clearly enjoying the look I’ve given her.

“OK, maybe a little more than a little.”

One more step and I’m closer than I’ve ever really been to her, except just now when she invited herself in. I take a breath and she smells warm like vanilla, sweet like honey. The fantasy of berries on her lips falls away and I suddenly want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and do nothing but breathe in her scent, feel it invade my senses, infect my bloodstream.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and her eyes grow a little darker. She wants me.

“Maybe a lot curious,” she whispers, lifting her chin and blinking slowly.

Is she daring me to kiss her? Can she feel the lightning between us? Dare I?

No. She’s a student. She’s off limits. She’s not… You.

She must notice my hesitation and steps back a pace. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I saw that it was your birthday today.”

It’s not my birthday. Not my real birthday, anyway, just the one on the fake passport with the fake name and real photo.

I smile because I have to. “It is.”

Whatever she’s hiding behind her back shifts between her hands. “And, well, it’s presumptuous of me but I’ve never heard you talk much about friends or family and… you don’t wear a… ring. I just… Well, I know how hard it is to be a world away from what you know, and this city isn’t exactly kind in general, so…”

She’s rambling and I don’t ever want her to stop. Her voice ebbs and flows over me like a sultry tsunami and I can feel my fingers twitch, my blood rush through my system faster and faster.

“I just don’t think anyone should be alone or forgotten on their birthday so-” Finally, she reveals the mystery behind her back and holds out a green glass bottle. “I took a chance that you were a scotch man. At first I thought wine, but I know nothing about wine, and the guy at the shop said this one was good, so… Happy birthday, Professor.”

She hands me the bottle and without thinking, I take it. It’s not expensive by any means, but it’s the gesture that counts. She doesn’t let go right away, holding it with me, as if she can communicate her desires through the blown glass.

“Thank you.” I smile, let my finger brush against hers. “This is… very thoughtful.”

She lets go but doesn’t move otherwise. Her eyes are locked on me, her stare so pure.

I have to get her out of here.

Y/N shrugs and smiles, so confident now, so sure. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know if it’s any good.”

Her meaning lingers and I nod, gesture to the sofa as I start to peel off the seal on the top of the bottle.

“Join me for a glass?”

She bites her lip again and I nearly lose it.

“Love to.”

The scotch isn’t terrible but it’s not great. More like something you’d grab if you were just looking to get drunk, not necessarily gift someone you’re trying to impress.

Is that what she’s doing here? Trying to get me drunk? Surely, she knows she’s impressed me long before today. The looks between us in class, the lectures directed almost entirely at her have not gone unnoticed, but this, this is different. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

The sofa suddenly feels too small. We sit close, drinking and chatting about life in London. She tells me about her family back home and how she had to cross an ocean to escape a misspent youth and an abusive father figure. I lie my way through a few answers but mostly, I let her talk.

The more she drinks, the looser her tongue gets, the freer her gestures. More than once, her hand falls to my knee and even though I should, I don’t push her away. Even though I should stand up, take her glass, ask her to get the hell out of my house, I can’t. I can’t do anything but stare at her lips as she speaks, drown myself in the tone of her voice, memorize the shape of her ears, her nose, slope of her shoulder. I’m lost in time with her and even though I know the clock is careening past midnight, I don’t care. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to move. I want to be frozen in this moment with her. I want to die in her arms but not before…

“Professor?” She laughs gently, loose and relaxed from the alcohol. She leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s been saying, but I can’t let her know that. I shift a bit, turning towards her. There’s barely room left for the Holy Ghost, as they say, but I doubt he’d begrudge me a little closeness, especially on my- on Jonathan’s birthday.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, captivated by the way she’s glowing. “I’m always listening to you.”

She squirms a bit and smiles behind her glass, takes another sip, downing the rest. There’s a drop of amber gold on her lip and it takes every ounce of restraint in me not to sweep it away with my tongue.

She pats the back of her hand against it and the moment is gone.

“Ya know, you’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You really are. I get you. I see you, Jonathan Moore. I see inside you.”

She slurs a bit, but not enough for it to be considered a crime if I touch her. That’s all I want to do, just a simple touch. Just to feel how soft she is beneath my fingers, how smooth the curve of her cheek.

Ripping myself away from the impulse, I take the glass from her hand and set hers next to mine on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss. Y/L/N.”

Her hand lands on my chest, right in the very center of me. Can she feel my heartbeat? Does she know how much I want her?

“You can call me by my name, ya know,” she says, dropping her chin and smiling. She’s so close that it would take but a tiny nudge to taste her. “Everyone just calls me Y/N/N.”

This is insane. She needs to leave. I need to slam the door behind her and never open it again.

“Y/N/N.”

Her name falls from my tongue like an incantation and her eyes go hazy. She leans closer, her breath fanning over my lips.

“Say it again,” she asks, nearly begging, “please…”

Fuck, this isn’t good. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I need to- Fuck, what does it all matter? She’s beautiful and interesting and smart and sitting next to me barely dressed and all she wants is me to whisper her name. What’s the harm?

“Y/N/N.”

The spell falls over her and I know it’s too late to back away. Her eyes fall closed and she leans in, pressing her crimson painted lips to mine. She exhales, pushes herself into the kiss, lets out a tiny moan.

She feels so good and it’s all I can think about. She pulls back and I lean in, needing more. My arms wrap around her, stealing her away. She melts against me, opens her lips to my tongue. The vanilla on her skin mixes with the scotch on her tongue and I’m blown away.

“Professor…”

If feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop breathing into her with every ounce of air in my body.

I let her go for a second, thinking she’s changed her mind, but no, she’s even more ready than I am.

She stands up, fits her knees in between mine and slowly unbuttons her blouse.

My eyes are huge, I know it. I must look like an idiot but I can’t help it. She’s here, beautiful and curvaceous, teasing me, undressing for me. It’s all for me. She’s here for me.

The blouse floats to the floor and she looks down at me, a hint of previous nerves returning. Her bra is pale pink and covered in lace. Something so pure and innocent covering up something I would kill for.

I would, I realize. I would kill for her.

She wiggles out of her skirt and her hips are distracting. I want to touch, to feel my bones crushing into hers, to sink myself deep inside just to see what it’s like, to know her, to feel all of her.

“You like?” she asks, innocence ringing in her soft voice.

What happened in her past that would make her ask such a thing? Who hurt her so badly, who crushed her self esteem to the point that she wouldn’t be able to tell if I was enjoying her delicious display?

“Of course. You’re… absolutely stunning.”

I can’t say more or I’ll break. I reach for her and she slides into my lap, locking her thighs around mine. She presses down on me and my cock responds, all blood and logic rushing down to push back at her ass.

She wraps her hands around my neck and bends to kiss me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, she curls them, tugs gently, testing, enjoying. Her kisses deepen and her hips roll. I’m about to lose my mind.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day of class,” she moans, scraping her nails across my scalp.

The sensation is intoxicating and my eyes roll back a bit as she tugs hard. Her right hand is locked in my hair and her left is dragging down my chest. I should stop her. I should stand up. I should…

“Fuck.”

Her hand sneaks into my slacks and she scoots back onto my knees for better access. I can’t even think straight as she rubs at my cock. Her hand is soft, warm, firm. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t help it. I might just die here beneath her.

Her tongue glides across my lips. “So hard to sit in class and not dream about fucking you…”

Something snaps inside of me and I let go. I grab at her tits, peel the delicate lace down and pinch her nipples hard until she’s crying out and arching against me.

“I can’t even read anymore,” she admits, nearly breathless as my lips seal around her left nipple. “Every page makes me think of you. I can hear every word in your voice. I- oh God-”

I bite down just enough to stop her train of thought and I look up to see a blank, beautiful stare.

“I want you,” she whispers, lips never quite closing after.

Fuck. This is what I was trying to avoid. This feeling, this hunger inside of me. This need to fall into someone else, this treacherous lust that forces me to act.

“Please…”

Her hand falls to the nape of my neck and it’s so delicate, so tender that I break.

Wrapping my arms around her, I stand and twist, flipping her over onto her back. She gasps and reaches for me, kissing through the shock while I tug the slacks from my hips. She yanks at my shirt, fumbling with the tiny plastic buttons, licking at every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want you inside me so bad,” she sings, nearly praying as if I’m some ancient god on high that can make all her dreams come true.

I don’t know about all of them, but this prayer, I can answer.

I tear the lace from her hips and fall down over her, crushing her into the old sofa. Her breath stops for a blessed second and I swear I can hear her heart racing through the silence. She runs her hands across my shoulders and down, curling them around my hips while spreading her legs wider.

“Please… Please… Please…”

Her whine is pathetic but I can’t get enough. If I had it in me to drag this out, to tease her for hours, I would, but the scotch has clouded my head and the sight of her strung out and desperate makes it impossible to wait.

She inhales hard when I sink into her. I can feel myself falling but I press my hands beside her head and hold on as best I can.

She feels like heaven.

Or the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know.

Wet and warm and tight, I can feel her throbbing around me. Every thrust is like magic, making her shiver and squirm and tighten up even more. She clings to me, nails digging into my arms, mouth searching and thirsty for more.

“Jon-”

I almost go insane. It’s not even my name, but it feels so right on her lips that I wish it was.

I feel her orgasm; her body clenching down on me and pulling me in deeper. It’s so hard not to scream her name at the top of my lungs. Nearly impossible not to stay here forever.

I fall down, shove my face into the crook of her neck and thrust a few more times. I know it’s over too soon, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rakes her hand through my hair, gently this time, and finds my lips, kissing me sweetly.

“Hi,” she laughs when our eyes finally focus and find each other through the afterglow.

God, she’s beautiful. So giving, so loving, so perfect in a million different ways that it’s actually breaking my heart.

I smile and peck her lips as I go soft inside of her.

“Hello, You.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Heyo! So I was thinking about that baby fever thing I @ed u in earlier and I was thinking if maybe u could do some headcanons on what u think uh Reborn Wukong would be like as a dad to his newborn baby? I feel like he’d be such a good dad 🤭☺️

Reborn!Wukong: Papa Canons.

Pair: dad!Wukong x mom!Reader.

Content/Trigger Warnings: cuteness overload, my 1st shot at writing headcanons.

Authors Notes: CAN I JUST MENTION HOW FUCKING CUTE HE LOOKS IN THIS PICTURE?! LIKE.... OMFG, MY HEART. Anyways, IDK if I did it right, but this had to be the first one I did. The idea has been plaguing my mind since I saw both this request and this art you're referring to. Might make a part 2, but I dunno.

Hope you enjoy! Wanted to make this extra special bc your support and feedback always make me smile. <3

The audacity of this child to look so much like you. 

Looked at his precious baby from over your shoulder just as the little angel opened their eyes and made eye contact. Made his world stop and his stone heart explode.

He was so cautious and a bit nervous when you asked him if he wanted to hold the baby. The second he had that infant in his arms… his world stopped for the second time.

They had his eyes, tail and little fuzzies all over, but they had your facial features, complexion, and hair colour that matched the fur.

If you thought he was overprotective with you, get ready for him to be the most vicious Monkey King there ever was. 

He always made sure that you held that baby from beside him, not letting the child out of his peripheral vision. 

Someone tried to kidnap the child once… let's just say they didn't live to regret it.

He tells the little one a lot of stories when they can't sleep, only if you and the others are asleep, though. He doesn't need you or Pigsy teasing him about being ‘adorable’ and all that nonsense, but he also doesn't want the little angel to disturb your sleep.

Sure he was lenient with forcing you to sleep regularly, but now? He made sure that an hour or two at most when the sun goes down, you and the baby are asleep. Whether that means he has to carry you both in his arms or not. If that became the case or even if your feet hurt too much to walk, then so be it.

Oh how he enjoys when such occasions do occur. Usually he’d carry your things so you could focus on the bundle, but when he has to carry you both, of course he forces Pigsy to carry them.

He loves holding you both in his arms, especially when you rest your head against his shoulder and tell him how much you love him. Thanking him for blessing you with your bundle of joy as you often did to her.

Whenever you camp out, too far from any village, he makes sure to make shelter for you and the baby near a tree to keep the little one out of the dew. 

Makes the nest with the best items he could find and if it’s not enough for the both of you, he runs off to find other things that are even better. 

If you pass a marketplace that sells anything soft? He ensures that the most comfortable ones are procured exclusively for you and your infant.

He enjoys watching you feed the bundle… cause… ya know. You're his wife. He also thinks the little sneeze they do every time they’re finished is absolutely adorable, and it melts his heart every.single.time.

He watches the baby closely when they reach the age to sit up on their own. He makes sure to be ready for when they fall over in case you're too slow to catch their head.

He loves the kid, sure, absolutely without a doubt… but sometimes he doesn't like it when all your attention is on the baby to the point you don't acknowledge him.

He's an amazing dad, but he’s an amazing husband and mate first. GIVE HIM ATTENTION, DAMMIT! 

He’s still the same possessive Wukong, of course he’d get jealous if even the baby gets more attention than him. Give him snuggles when you get the chance, a plus if you hold him and the baby.

He still often gets you little gifts and things he thinks you may like, especially since he knows how stressed you've been since you got pregnant. It’s his doing, so it was the least he could do.

When the baby holds his finger and gurgles with that furrow you frequently did, he tells them not to talk to him with that attitude. Something that makes you smile, trying your best not to laugh. Especially when he scolds you for passing on that attitude to his precious infant.

When the baby does it with that large gummy smile that also reminded him of you, his heart soar. He'd have that content smile that makes any hardship worth it. You absolutely love that smile the most.

Despite the times he would frequently tell them not to ‘talk’ to you like that, he liked to say it served you right for passing down your sass in the first place.

When the baby gets old enough to eat mushed up fruit? He collects the ripest and juiciest ones for the both of you. Yes, he will beat Pigsy to a pulp if the gluttonous pig tested his luck to try taking some.

[gilverrwrites]

Castiel NSFW Headcanons

Pairing: Castiel / GN!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: to give yourself time to rest.

Warning: Very brief mention of non/dub-con. Cas is kinda pervy and I love that for him.

Wants to and will deliver the most excellent and diligent aftercare, but you have to be vocal and specific about it. Communication is good, tell him what you need, and he will do it, everytime.

Actually prefers receiving oral over giving. Don’t get it twisted, he thoroughly enjoys the effect it has on you, and will do it over and over for you, but it’s a sensory thing. There’s just so many particles, and molecules on his tongue, it can be overwhelming.

Incidentally like A++ when it comes to dirty talk. He doesn’t really have a filter so he will have no problem telling you what he likes, how he’s feeling. Will check on you aften.

Does that feel good? Do you enjoy when I touch you like this? You look so beautiful when you cum for me. I love the way you feel around me.

However, until/unless you teach him the slang terms and how to use them, he will refer to most body parts by their anatomical names.

Is a top, but is very open to experimentation. Is happy to and enjoys bottoming/being pegged.

A switch, with predominately dom tendances.

Taking charge comes easily to him, and he can be very impatient/intolerant of having his orders disobeyed. Bratty behavior can be fun for him, if you’re into that sort of thing, but prefers service subs who will do as told and do it well. But does not like to be the boss all the time. He likes it when you top him, especially for slow, sensual sex.  If you’re more experienced than him and can show him new positions or foreplay.

On the subject of positions, top 3: Face-off, cowgirl, and seashell.

Art by Emily Schiff-Slater

Will ask/scold you to keep your eyes open and look at him frequently. Really enjoys watching your expressions/reactions, particularly your eyes.

Doesn’t like to restrain you with ropes and the likes, but does like using his body and/or his grace to pin you down and have his way with you.

Let him hold you down, get nice and deep inside, then look up at him with glazed eyes and let out a whimper; he may just cum on the spot.

Can and will go for hours if you let him, stamina is not an issue for him.

Especially for cock-warming. On the rare occasion he has downtime, he will happily spend all day with you on his lap, cock inside you just idly chatting, examining and teasing you as you gradually get more wound up and needy for him.

His wings and the space around their base (in between the shoulder blades) are highly sensitive. Just the brush of your finger is enough to get him riled up.

You have to inform him that it’s found upon to discuss your sex life unprompted with other people. Unless that doesn’t bother you.

Dean: Where the hell were you man?!? We’ve been prayin’! Cas: I heard you. I was busy engaging in coitus with [name]. ____ Sam: Cas I’m trying to explain something here, what is so important on your phone? Cas: [name] has sent me a photograph of their [redacted], I am uncertain of the best way to respond.

Does not particularly like sexting, as he finds it hard to concisely convey his thoughts through text. BUT he does get a thrill out of seeing and having your nudes be so easily accessible and for his eyes only.

Seldom masturbates but does watch a lot of porn. It’s for “research” in “understanding humans”. Totally not for inspiration.

If you suggest making your own DIY porn, he will jump on it. There may be some technical teething issues, but he is determined not to let that stop you. Would film it from the nightstand of something, not POV as he still wants to get lost in the moment and not have to worry about filming you from just the right angle.

Secretly a voyeur. Prior to any sexual/romantic relationship he may have ‘accidentally’ popped up and caught a glimpse (or more) of you, or his other human acquaintances getting their rocks of (be they alone, or with other people). During any relationship he likes watching you touch yourself, sometimes he’ll ask you to let loose and do it however you like, sometimes he prefers a more guided approach. So, telling you, where to touch, how much pressure, if and when you can reach your climax.

And of course, frottage/thigh riding. Watching you grind on him, per instruction, until you cum makes him giddy.

Very much enjoys a good cream pie. Typically, he’s not really into (his own) cum, it’s sticky and messy. But he cannot deny the rush of pride he feels when he see’s his own cum seeping out of you.  

Is often commando, it just feels more freeing, and allows for easer access. Yes he could just use his angel mojo, but there’s something more fun and a little sordid about doing it himself, or better yet, having undress him.

Same goes for you. He prefers stripping you by hand. It allows him more time to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his, to tease all the points of you that he knows makes you squirm.

[poppy-metal]

the reader dbf patrick stepdaddy art is DIABOLICAL and i need it RIGHT NOW actually. crying on patricks cock for the first time while art watches like, "im sorry, daddy, 'm sorry, just wanted it so bad, so so badly, you understand, right, you get it?" and the funny thing is, he totally does, because its patrick, yes, he gets it, more than anything he gets it, but this is wrong, isn't it? this is wrong and fucked up and evil, but you're reaching for his belt with wide, wet eyes, begging, "can make it up to you, daddy, can make you feel real good, please, 'm sorry, let me show you how sorry i am" and his resolve just has to crumple.

(obviously there has to be about six million years of YEARNING in between but you know. the horny.)

-kit ♡♡♡

@gamesetart ur sick for enabling me. i slowed things down a little bc i was cooking but the outcome will probably eventually be this. LMAO

under a cut because like patrick, this is sending me straight to hell i fear.

skipping ahead a million years just to fuck stepdad!art who also happens to be patricks ex who hes never gotten over and has been friends with this whole time - maybe its his fault actually, that you fall in love with patrick at the tender age of 14 - because art loves him so much. hes around so much. like father like daughter, right? he might not be your dad by blood but he is in every other way that counts - he has full custody - your mom been out of the picture for awhile now. its almost like having two dad, growing up. you think art and patrick are closer than any two men you've seen before. but they date other women so you don't think much of it - you want art to be happy again. you dont blame him for leaving your mother, you're just happy he took you with him.

anyway - falling for patrick is inevitable - it burns inside you like a wildfire you have no chance of stopping, so you dont try.

and patrick..... maybe he's given up hope on art after all these years. they'd had something brief and tangible in college - but it'd fizzled out - art had pretended it didn't happen. and patrick loved art too much to press the issue. he'd been content to live forever being arts best friend and nursing a flame for him that would never be returned.

and then you'd come along - it'd been hell watching art get married - he never liked that bitch, anyway, for more reasons than sharing arts bed. she treated her kid like dirt. art even worse. it got to a point where the only reason art was staying around was for you - he couldn't leave you. you were just a kid. and art had only been with you for three years but it was enough. enough for him to love you. enough for him to martyr himself for you and stay in an unhappy marriage if it meant he could play the role of daddy for you.

it may have been him who planted the seed. he'd met you a few times by that point, but he remembers a pool party where you'd been sucking on a lollipop as you watched art work the grill - your mother somewhere inside - you were twelve then - old enough to have some brain cells, patrick figured.

"he'd make a good dad, dont you think?" he'd nudged you. "i mean look at him - already rocking the dad stance with a fucking polo to match. he'll be telling us it looks like a storms rollin' in any second now."

and you'd popped the lolly out of your mouth and showed him your teeth with your smile.

a raised brow. "really? does he know that? does your mother?"

"he already is my dad, though."

you'd frowned. stuck the lolly back in your mouth. he could tell he'd given your brain alot to think about that.

it was only a year later that the divore was finalized. and art was granted full custody of you as his daughter - full guardianship. patrick got him the hell out of that town shortly thereafter.

and that was it, really. that was the plan. just to live in peace. he didn't expect to grow so attached to you. to enjoy watching you grow up. to enjoy being there for your important milestones. he saw a bit of himself in you, too, that wild precociousness. that want to run free. saw how it fucking terrified art, who wanted nothing but the best for you after the life you'd had. always the hero.

so yeah, when you'd started your rebellious teen phase he'd helped you hide it. picked you up from parties when you couldn't drive home instead of calling your dad. because he didn't want to see art unhappy. he didn't want to see art look at you and see the patrick in you and hate it. he couldn't.

he didn't know you'd fall in love with him. he didn't.

and when he realized you had, he'd pushed you away. he had.

but the thing is - as much as you had patrick in you - you had art as well. your inherent kindness. your sweet open face. your determination and dedication. he saw it and then he couldn't unsee it. and as long as he'd held onto his love for art he was tired. he was fucking tired of being unloved and unwanted and here you were - a tether to art - his beautiful babygirl - and you were throwing yourself at him. loving him. wanting him. so fucking beautiful and innocent - just like art had been, all those years ago.

couldn't fault him for caving. he'd faught it, but patricks not a good man. and hes a stray dog at the end of the day, dirty and hungry and begging for scraps.

he fucking devoured you. took from you. took your virginity - just like he did your fathers - broke it on his cock and tried not to feel sick that the symbolic way your blood drenched his cock connected you and him and art in a way that was as holy and it was perverted. he fucked you and he fucked you and he fucked you. he had you whenever and wherever he wanted and he didn't allow himself to think about the consequences of it - because he was fucking greedy for it - you took everything he was and you bit into it and you bounced on his dick like he was a fucking god and he found himself falling in love all over again.

he'd find a way to tell art and make it right. he would.

but then there'd been that night when art asked him out for drinks and patrick would tell something was wrong. he'd been distant from art lately, if he was being honest, consumed completely by you. the only reason he was free was because you were at a friends.

when art had confessed he felt you pulling away the guilt had set in... because art looked so sad. so pathetic and lonely and patrick had never wanted this for art. his heart pitched and dropped in his chest and he couldn't tell art about you - not now -

and then art had looked at him and said "you know she reminds me of you -" and patricks lips had parted. the alcohol in his system warmed his blood, but so did the heavy weight of arts eyes on him. it was a look patrick hadn't seen in years. decades even.

It was how you looked at him.

hungry.

that's all patrick thought as art drew closer and closer to him. fuck, when art placed a hand on his thigh. fuck, when his cock twitched. fuck, when art said he missed those days back in college. fuck, when art leaned in and patrick didn't pull away.

fuck.

fuck again, when he came to and they were back at arts apartment - fuck when they passed your room and thank fuck you weren't home, thank fuck - fuck fuck fuck when art got on his knees and stroked patricks cock and patrick thought his first clear thought of the night -

fuck fuck and fuck again because he lost his mind a little when arts lips touched his. went a little dizzy with it.

fuck fuck fuck - because arts sinful pink mouth descended around him and he fucking moaned around it and in some twisted dark corner of patricks seedy mind he thought art must taste you on him - must know its you hes tasting and thats why he throats him deeper like a fucking whore.

i fucked her this morning. he's about to suck his daughter's pussy off my dick and he doesn't even fucking know -

patrick knows hes going to hell.

he knows it because he uses the same fingers he'd had inside your cunt to spread your dads ass open for the same dick he'd plunged into you - he knows hes going to hell because when he slides inside and art moans he thinks he sounds just as pretty as you do - they take me so fucking well - made for me - fucking made for me

and when he pulls out to come down and swallow arts cock down his own throat he moans when he thinks about kissing you later tonight with your fathers spunk on his tongue -

hes going to hell.

[bendyartistic]

Be aware of alexbstudios.

Over the course of what I believe a few months maybe, Alex has been harassing me with strange behavior and as of recent hurtful remarks too. He's been bothering other people as well from what I've seen. Probably going to say I should've just blocked him, but I wanted to keep an eye on things just in case. Today was the point in time after everything that I realized I should let people know about this kid.

I want to show from the beginning to present time of the interactions he's done with me. And maybe something can be done about getting him off the platform...

Firstly I want to say Alex has admitted to being 12 years old... apparently. I know this from this reblog. This already is a very large red flag. Considering the young age, no a callout doesn't seem right but I still want to warn people regardless since he's still active on the platform.

Though I am uncertain if this is true, he did not confirm nor deny my question about it.

Now lets get to the start of things. I don't like people reposting my art anywhere without credit, surely that can be said for everyone.

Randomly in May Alex reposted my art, no credit, mention of who made it, or where it came from. I should mention Alex had been following me well before this post, so he knew who I was. Rightfully I responded with a request to take it down as I didn't appreciate this.

Upon making this request he made a small complaint about it, which was unneeded. While he did "delete" the post, it still technically there, just edited. Therefore never officially removed like I had asked.

He also uploaded two other drawings I did, but he did not remove those ones.

Not too long ago on a post I made showcasing my Chris model, as it had been a while since I posted it, and I wanted to let people see it.

Alex later said some... questionable things about it. And it really made me uncomfortable to say the least.

For context in my AU, my Chris is 29. This has been stated before a few times.

I want to get to the biggest thing here however, as this is what drove me to make this post. The consistent weird and hateful DM's he has sent me.

I have told Alex to leave me alone on several different occasions and he has refused to do so. Again I know I should've blocked but as I said, just wanted to wait in case. Truth is I don't like blocking people, never have, I feel weird doing it. But anyways Alex made a poll a week ago if I recall correctly of whether or not he should keep or delete his account. The poll won on keep. No sooner did this happen, Alex was in my DM's bothering me about it after I again told him to leave me alone.

The DM's are as followed with context and info:

He responded with something along the lines of "Then my account would become lost media!" to which I only responded "No one really cares."

Next post is where Alex starts to mock me for being slow with my replies. I don't quite understand what speed he expects me to write my replies at, I guess 5 seconds?

So as you have noticed Alex is now making fun of my autism, and it's going to continue in this unfortunately. Bringing up a disability in an argument should not happen. However at some point Alex accused me of creating alts to vote against his poll, I have none.

I'm not sure why me specifically... and I hate how me being "slow" keeps getting brought up. Also racism is somehow brought into this as well.

He spammed me with the same image repeatedly, and it continued for a while. Passing that, he wanted me to run the same poll he did on if I should keep or delete my account. I obviously declined.

He then blocked me after this.

Alex in the past DM'd me, when he made those remarks about my Chris model. I wasn't happy then and I'm still not about it.

I'm still puzzled as to why he calls being blocked as banned. Besides that this comes to the end of the DM ark. Alex has done other things, such as suggest people to draw strange stuff, edited other peoples work, steal other peoples work, and tried to stir up drama at one point.

In conclusion,

Alex is immature. And should not be here, especially this fandom. But in general he should not be online, it is clear he has unlimited access to whatever he wants.

I am sorry to my friends and others who have had to deal with him. That is all I have to say.

Any questions or whatnot is fine. Reblogs are appreciated in order to spread the word.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

I’m Not Your Fiancée, Ranma [a ranma saotome with fem!reader mini series] part two

warnings: anime/manga spoilers, slight canon divergence, very mild Akane bashing.

Hey guys and welcome back to the second episode in this mini series! It’s been a wild ride writing for this classic anime, and so far the Netflix remake has delivered in laughs, drama, and slow-burn romantic tension!

Thank you all so much for supporting this content, I honestly wasn’t expecting so much positive feedback from everyone or to have requests to join the taglist! 😊 Shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me figure out a unique and fun way to write out this part, a journal entry from the one and only Nabiki Tendo!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and watch for that bucket of cold water! :3

Part One

Who would have thought that Ranma Saotome would actually stand up for himself and spout off a subtle confession of love towards my little sister? Now, my dear Confidante, you may think he finally said it to Akane, and that the constant drama in my house would finally quiet down and there would be some peace, the likes of which hasn't happened since the pigtailed boy and his father came knocking on our door last year. Alas, that is not the case, because Ranma declared in the dojo that he wanted to have my adorable little [First Name] be the person he was engaged to rather than tolerate my sister once more.

Not that I blame him, really.

As much as I love Akane and the huge wade of bills I can bring home from selling photos of her at school, she can be a violent maniac whenever jealousy rears its ugly head and makes a big deal out of everything. Seriously, and I thought she was already a handful with her constant declarations of hating men, though I partially blame Kuno for that one, even if he is one of my best clients. Let me continue before I get off track. As the old saying goes, “time is money.” Naturally, Daddy and Mr. Saotome did not take the proclamation very well. It wasn’t even a minute before they stomped into the dojo and started yelling at him.

“Ranma, how could you?!” Daddy wailed as crocodile tears streamed down his face. “I know you and Akane love each other, that’s why you must go through with this engagement!”

“Boy, do you even know what you know what you are saying?!” Mr. Saotome bellowed. “Akane is your fiancee! It is your duty to marry her and carry on the school!”

Ranma scowled. “Oh, really? Do ya think she can even teach a student without flyin’ off the handle? An’ ya don’t have to be good at martial arts to run this place, anyway!” His hands hung by his sides, clenching and unclenching into tight fists. That’s usually a sign when he’s trying to reign in his own anger. “I told ya before that I didn’t come all the way here just so you can marry me off, but ya didn’t listen! So for once in your miserable old life, let me get a say in who I want to spend the rest of my life with!” He then turned to Daddy. “Mr. Tendo, I don’t love Akane. I mean…I did, or I thought I did, but all she does is get mad at me for things I didn’t do and make me try her cooking! She thinks I’m goin’ behind her back with Ukyo an’ Shampoo when they’re the ones who come onto me! What the heck am I supposed to do in that situation, anyway?!”

You could have just told them off, Ranma. But it’s your vow as a martial artist to never strike a girl. That’s how you’ve always been. As for [First Name]? Well, she was still on the floor, in shock at what she heard for a bit until she stood up and stepped in front of Ranma, shielding him from Daddy as his battle aura oozed into the dojo, changing my sweet dear Daddy into a demon version of himself, large head with a forked tongue and all that jazz.

“Dad, enough.” [First Name] said firmly. “Ranma has done nothing wrong. Ever since he’s been here, you’ve always blamed him for Akane’s unhappiness. I’m not saying he isn’t completely innocent, because sometimes it is his fault. But if what he’s saying is true, then we need to respect his decision. Mr. Saotome, I know you want to keep your promise to your old friend, but this engagement is something he didn’t want. It’s not what Akane wanted either, but everyone pushed them together. You perceived their loud shouting as adorable and believed they were a lovely couple.” [First Name] scoffed. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Father. Back. Off.”

Imagine my surprise when my easygoing little sister exerted her own battle aura into the dojo, something that rarely happens unless she’s extremely angered. I can do it, and so can Kasumi, but it’s like with [First Name]. Only when we’re really furious and that’s fine with me. I’d rather put my energy into making more money. Daddy also found it surprising, as he quickly redirected the conversation back to the problem.

“B-but the schools, sweetie! We must unite the schools before Mr. Saotome and I pass on! You know, the only way to accomplish that is through a betrothal!” I almost gagged at the sound of his whiny voice. Good grief, how pathetic.

“An engagement, not a business negotiation between two old friends?” [First Name] countered. “Where one of us manages the school, and Ranma and some other teachers can coach the students? Have you ever entertained that possibility?”

“Are you questioning our judgement, girl?!” Mr. Saotome snarled.

“I’m questioning your sanity!”

Naturally, I intervened before things got too messy. I told them all to calm down, and offered a solution: it’s obvious that Ranma does not want to get back with Akane, and he has expressed an interest in [First Name]. I had no interest in taking up bridal duties again. I’m pretty sure Kasumi still doesn’t like younger men, and has expressed little interest in dating either, at least that I know of. So, why not switch the engagement from Akane, and have [First Name] be his new fiancee? We’ll see how things go, and no pressuring them to do anything they weren’t ready for unless Daddy and Mr. Saotome want this arrangement to not work out because of their meddling. But my little sister’s earlier proposition wasn’t bad either, if things didn’t work out between Ranma and [First Name]. No one really gets engaged in high school anymore, and there are other ways to manage a martial arts school that didn’t involve marriage. I guess the reason Daddy never considered that idea is that he really wants one of us to marry his best friend’s son and retire. Mr. Saotome probably just wants to live comfortably for the rest of his life, so typical of the lazy panda man.

So, that’s where it stands now. Ranma and [First Name] have been engaged for over a week, and nothing’s really changed between them. Well, it’s more like they are still adjusting to these changes. Ranma is still weary of her, thinking my dear little sister is being nice and then will start acting like Akane as soon as [First Name] sees something she doesn’t like. Tut, tut, silly Ranma. But I’ll let him figure that out on his own, unless he pays the exclusive 10,000 yen consultation fee I offer and give an honest opinion. And [First Name]? Well, she still treats Ranma with respect, helps him with his homework, and doesn’t cling to him like Shampoo or Ukyo. In fact, if she has a club meeting, she insists he go home without her and she’ll be fine walking home at night.

[First Name] is too kind for her own good. Kasumi knows it too. She chided Ranma in the kitchen one evening when he came home without [First Name], saying it’s not a good idea to let a girl walk home by herself even if she says she will be okay. Ranma had the decency to look a little ashamed before shuffling back to the room he shared with Mr. Saotome to apparently get some homework done. Will wonders ever cease to happen in this house, my dear Confidante?

How is Akane taking this change? Not very well. She keeps insisting [First Name] can do better than a pervert, and things will only get worse. I beg to differ.

I already see that things around the house are much calmer. There’s been no fighting, no tables thrown, or Ranma flying across the neighborhood with bumps on his head. He may think we do not notice as soon as dinner is over, but he helps [First Name] with clearing the table or washing the dishes. One morning, I even saw him in the kitchen, getting her lunch out of the fridge and setting it next to her school bag so she didn’t forget it and eat at the cafeteria again. I was sure I wasn’t imagining it, sleep and caffeine deprived.

Everything will be fine. I’m sure of it. I can only hope that Shampoo or the other girls don’t get any funny ideas yet. [First Name] has said nothing about the engagement at school, and Akane just harrumphs and says she’s happy to no longer be engaged to a pervert anymore.

I want to write more, but it seems there’s someone knocking at my door. That’s strange. I wasn’t expecting any clients today. Will be back.

Later -

Unbelievable. Ranma Saotome has just left and made me richer after a lengthy consultation about where he could take [First Name] for their first date this Sunday. Mr. Saotome has been upset that he’s been neglecting [First Name] and somehow misconstrued it as a challenge, both as a martial artist and as a man. Honestly, it amazes me how can these people even be my family. Good luck little sister, you will need it. 

Taglist: @djh4l0v3rv3r @silverklaus @alee24x @loverofyandereboys @akiqvq @the-dumber-scaramouche @stingywiththeirusername @mochinon-yah @gudaworks @danyzta

[coralinnii]

❋ If you’re a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋

↳Reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy part 2

feat: Rook

genre: drama, slow burn romance, smitten fools,

note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy Rook ver., historical fantasy setting, sculptor!reader, reader is referred to as “Ma artiste” and “Mon amour” by Rook, no pronouns used with the reader, mentions of beast hunting, 1.8k word count

While it refers to fictional beasts, this touches the controversial topic on hunting which can be sensitive to people. I’m not trying to claim that my own opinions or the opinions in this fic are right and you can have a stance against these opinions. Despite the controversy, I still decided to add this into the story because this world is supposed to mirror the era when this was practiced by people of the time and with Rook as a canonical huntsman, this fits the story well.

I choose to be transparent that this topic will be in this fic and if you are uncomfortable, you are free to ignore this story because I would rather you decide your comfort levels than have people read my story.

Random note: when my laptop died, all my banners are gone so yea…I changed my character banners again

series masterlist

To your dismay, you found yourself facing the consequences for the actions of an obsessive character that convinced the famous knight Rook Hunt to be your fiancé.

Begging the Hunt family, you managed to settle a deal to repay the dowry the Hunt family paid to annul the engagement, since losing this engagement would cost their side more than yours.

Thankfully, the era of this world was the rising age of artistic revolution and the aristocracy was itching to find the newest trend of beauty and creative innovation, which you enthusiastically took as an opportunity to build your name in the field of art as a sculptor, starting off with simple desk ornaments to breathtaking statues.

Perhaps it was your silver lining that your still fiance Rook was a well-known admirer of all things beautiful as with his keen eyes, your sculptures stood out among others due to the added details of your subjects that your fiance pointed out as you work. You were confident in your skills but you owe it to Rook for enhancing the realism in your sculptures.

Initially, guilt ate away at your conscience for not only the forceful engagement you placed upon the knight (even if you weren’t directly responsible) but for also taking his help with your commissions without any benefits to himself. But the green-eyed man did not ever allow you to dwell in such thoughts.

“Non, ma artiste! Your works of art are the fruits of your passion and hard work that cannot be replicated. I may have given some notes here and there but the beauty of each masterpiece you created can only be brought out from your skillful hands.”

Rook smiled as he held your hands, still dirtied with bits of dried clay. The gaze of his bright green makes you feel somewhat self-conscious. You were a noble but you must have ruined the softness of your skin due to your long hours of work and stress. You tried to pull your hands back in embarrassment but your fiance held them firmly in his own gloved pair.

“Every scar, blemish, and crack is a show of your strength, mon amour. I could get lost tracing the lovely lines of your hands if you allow me.”

No matter how many others have praised you or your work, you couldn’t help the unique warmth in your heart that only appears when Rook sings them. But you chalk it up to your body reacting from old feelings held by the original character. It must be, right?

Your commissions have thankfully slowed down enough to give you a well needed break. You were curious to what might taking up the attention of the nobility right now which was how you learned about the bi-annual “Hunt of the Beasts” event.

You were initially terrified to learn the existence of magical beasts in this world and the danger that resides in the dense forests and mountainous lands that borders the kingdom. In order to maintain the beast population for the safety of the people and resources, the imperial family hosts an extravagant event for the knights and local mercenaries in the kingdom to vanquish the beasts. Some may call it barbaric or cruel, but for the safety of the villages and farms that reside near these beasts’ territories, it was an unfortunate necessity that is at least maintained by the imperial family to avoid excessive hunting that disrupts the delicate balance of the population.

Rook was a frequent participant of the hunt and of course he was going to be a participant. Typically, partners of the participants would attend the event as spectators waiting by the designated zones among other visitors. However, you were too new to this world and this will be the first hunt for you where you will surely come across images you weren’t sure you were prepared for.

Giant beasts…even thinking of their corpses. It’s too overwhelming.

You expressed your discomfort with Rook and despite his experience as a seasoned participant, offered words of understanding to you. The knight suggested that you could sit out from the event and he could explain to any curious busybody that you were not feeling well.

Once again, Rook warmed your heart with his words but there was some guilt still left behind within you. Despite the loveless engagement, Rook has wholeheartedly supported you in your passion and your work despite his own inexperience in the field, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept something that he as a knight and huntsman took pride in. You allowed your fear win over and it left a bitter feeling in your heart.

The day has finally arrived and the dense forest that bordered the kingdom was busy with attendees of all status. Many have come to join to spectate and support the brave men and women who have trained to battle the dangerous beasts that lurk within the land that was darkened by wild greenery. Aides from the imperial palace watched over the event as participants were informed of the rules of the hunts; what to expect, what to capture, and what to avoid lest they choose to face punishment.

Rook surveyed his surroundings as he finished his last preparations. He saw both familiar faces and newcomers that hope to make a name for themselves today. Tents were filled with important families and even visiting guests from nearby lands either to observe or participate themselves. But he doesn’t see a glimpse of your figure.

Not that he expected it. He respected your choice not to attend the event. It could be that he has become too desensitized by the presence of beasts and monsters due to his work that he has forgotten how frightening it could be for a civilian to witness them in person.

Maybe during his hunt, he could find some wild flowers to bring back to you when he visits you later. Would you feel better if he did? You had such a conflicted expression on your face last he saw you so maybe a bouquet of rare flowers could brighten your mood, even bring you some inspiration for your art. Would you feel grateful, perhaps even smile for him as you call his name in appreciation…

“Rook.”

Ah, he could even hear you right now.

“Rook?”

A rare occurance, Rook was actually spooked to suddenly feel your presence behind him. The blonde knight did not sense you standing there, with him…at the Hunt of the Beasts.

“Mon amour, you surprised me!” His green eyes almost couldn’t believe it. “I thought you’d chose not to attend this year.”

To be fair, you’re surprised yourself. The whole idea of this event still feels unreal to you and your fear of witnessing something you’re not mentally ready for is still there. Even so…

“I want to support you, like you always have with me” you whispered shyly but Rook could clearly hear your voice at this distance. He then saw in your hands a small woven charm bracelet, a common blessing given to participants like him.

During the Hunt of the Beasts, traditions came about among the participants and non-participants. Those who participated in the hunt would offer their game as an offering to their lover as a show of devotion and strength to protect them from harm. In addition, non-participants could give a blessed items to the participant of their choice as a show of admiration or to wish them safety during the hunt.

You noticed the knight’s gaze and you felt more nervous than before. As this was your first attendance, this was also the first time offering a blessing to someone. When you told your servant you were going to the hunting event, he graciously gave you a woven bracelet and suggested that you offer it to your “lover”, much to your embarrassment.

But then you noticed the knight more closely and saw that he already had a number of bracelets and ribbons peeking out from his left arm sleeve. You supposed despite his eccentricity, Rook was still a very talented knight and quite attractive to people of all social status. Even if he was technically a taken man, this did not stop admirers from showing favour towards him with blessed charms and ribbons.

Mortified, you tried to hide the small bracelet as you put on a smile. “Since it was tradition, I thought I should bring you something but I should have guessed that you would have plenty of blessings from others. Adding more would probably be burdensome-“

You flinched slightly when you felt your hands being captured by another pair. You saw Rook’s gloved hands stopping your own but he had such an unreadable look in his eyes that you couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

“Rook?” The call of his name seemed to have woken him from his trance as Rook quickly gave you a smile before he spoke.

“Mon amour, I would be honoured to receive your blessing.” Releasing his grip on you, Rook removed the glove on his right hand where unlike his counterpart hand, was empty. “Would you please place it upon me?”

Nodding your head, you gently wrapped the woven bracelet around Rook’s wrist, careful not to tighten the knot too much since this was Rook’s dominant hand. You tried not to think too much about how he allowed your blessing and only yours on his right hand and not with the rest on his non-dominant hand.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” you tried to focus on something else and rested your eyes on Rook’s hand. It was not often you see it as the blonde-haired man tends to wear gloves as part of his uniform but you could see the rough calluses and scars littered about his fingers and palm. The skin of his hand was smoother than you expected (probably due to his friendship with the Schoenheit heir) but you can tell how hard Rook must have trained to be as skilled as he was today. How diligent this man is which earned the respect of many. While caressing his warm hand, you absentmindedly echoed the words he once spoke to you.

“Every scar, blemish, and crack is a show of your strength…How beautiful.”

Realizing what you just said aloud, you quickly let go of Rook’s hand before rushing to create distance between the two of you (when did you get so close to begin with?!).

“There, all done!” you did your best to hide your embarrassment with a smile. “I’ll be in one of the tents until the hunt is over. I wish you luck!”

With a quick bow, you rushed into a tent that was open, too flustered to look back and face your fiance.

A shame, really. Because you missed the opportunity to see a rare image of Rook with a rosy shade blooming across his cheeks and ears.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Well, it took me a couple of days but I did it!! Oh, and it's the longest drabble in the world. Did y'all know a drabble is only 100 words???? I thought it was 100-500...I still wrote way more than that, but still.

Title: No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Prompt: Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Warnings: age gap (Ari is mid-40s, Reader is early-20s), yandere Ari, drugging, non-con fingering (f receiving), non-con p-in-v intercourse, non-con creampie, choking, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Hahahaha this was supposed to be a drabble. Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Moving out on your own isn’t exactly the easiest thing for you. You spent four years living in your college dormitory, but you always had at least one roommate. So, signing a lease and accepting the single set of keys was a huge accomplishment.

Your landlord, Mr. Levinson, is so great. He told you to call him Ari more than once. From the first tour of the apartment to the day of your move-in, he offers his help in many ways. Where the best farmer’s market is, how to reach him if you need any repairs, and even when the local bars close are just a few tidbits he leaves you with.

You get to know him a bit more during a block party one Saturday night. The two of you talk over cheap beer, tamales from Señora Cruz, smoked brisket from Mr. Lorenzo, and lasagna from Mrs. Di Paolo. Ari seems like he is lonely, and your kind heart can’t stand to see someone in need. 

Before you know what you are getting into, you agree to have a weekly tea date with him. It’s during one of those visits that you realize that something is a bit odd about Ari. He tries to cover up how he knows what cabinet you keep your tea in, but he makes up some dumb excuse that it would just be “the perfect spot”.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he busies himself with setting the tea, and when you come back, a steaming mug is waiting for you on a saucer on your coffee table. Usually, you make the tea, but Ari wanted to help out, and you had a long day at work, so you accepted.

“What is in this tea? It’s almost spicy,” you ask, taking another big gulp of the tea you don’t recognize.

“Is it spicy? Well, it does have ginger and cinnamon in it. Some chamomile, too. A little benzodiazepine in there,” Ari clambers on, trailing off at the end.

“D-did you say benzo…dia…zep,” you slur, reaching for Ari as you sit on the couch, but you end up passing out with your head in his lap.

When you come to, you struggle to remember what happened. Your heavy head pounds as you turn it to the side before putting the heel of your hand to your still-closed eyes.

“Take it slow, Bunny. You must’ve been really tired,” he consoles, from the other side of your bed.

“Mr. Levin-”

“Uhn uh. Call me Ari; no more of that Mr. Levinson polite shit, ok?” he swears for the first time in your presence.

“Um, Ari… What are you doing in my bedroom?” you ask, your mind a blank slate from earlier.

“Oh, Bunny. You invited me over for tea, and then you weren’t feeling well, and you asked me to stay until you felt better. Next thing I know, I’m carrying you in here because you fell asleep on me with that sweet little face of yours right in my lap,” he comforts, the knuckles of his hand sliding down your face before he boops your nose.

“Why do you keep calling me Bunny?” you mewl, still trying to get in control of all your limbs.

“When you sleep, you furrow your eyebrows and scrunch up your nose like a little bunny. It’s one of the cutest things you do,” he admires, his hand now moving down your neck and through the valley of your breasts to get to where your skirt rides up your thigh.

“Mr.-Ari…I think I feel better now; you don’t have to-” 

Your words are cut off when Ari reaches under your skirt, and you specifically remember having on panties earlier today, but his fingers are touching your tender pussy directly. Did he take off your underwear?

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Must’ve been all that time I spent rubbing your cute little cunt through those white cotton panties. God, those little moans you were making went straight to my cock, Bunny. Feel it,” he dares, grabbing your hand and resting it against the thick outline of his dick through his Wranglers. 

While your hand is on his length, he shoves two of his fingers into your wet heat. At first, you are surprised by the shock of it. But soon, you can tell that he knows how to work your body. You scream out his name, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he shoves one hand over your mouth and gets close to your ear.

“You’re not gonna ruin this for me. You have been parading yourself around here like you’re some holier-than-thou sweet little thing. And I knew you’d end up letting me smash at some point. But I didn’t wanna wait anymore, Bunny. You have had me wrapped around that little finger of yours since you moved in. It’s time that I get what’s owed to me-what you’ve been flaunting in front of me,” he sneers, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them clean before opening his pants and pulling his dick out.

He lines up with your sodden core before thrusting in with no grace or elegance. Slamming himself inside your tight snatch for the first time feels like he is splitting you in two. You’re no virgin, but you also don’t have much casual sex, so Ari’s thickness was a shock, to say the least.

“Sweet Bunny, you’re so tight. What a good girl! You’ve been waiting for me like I’ve been waiting for you, huh? Fuck, you’re like a fucking vice. You hear that, Bunny? Hear how that cunt loves it when I fuck it? Love that loud, sloshy pussy,” he beams, his wide hips between your legs making your joints hurt.

You’re in stunned silence as Ari uses your body to chase his release. Your mind is bringing up all the times it seemed like he was getting a little too close for comfort. All the times when he would talk to you about his divorce, or his current dating trend, or the fact that he once told you that a pretty thing like you belonged locked up in a tower for a prince to come and free you.

Did he think he was a charming prince?

“Oh, Bunny, fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Look at me; wanna see your eyes when I cum inside you,” he blurts, holding your face in his hands as you look into his dilated, hungry eyes. “Take it. Just. Like. That.” The last few words are punctuated with thrusts as he paints your walls with thick, milky ropes.

Once he closes his eyes, his hips remain still, and his forehead meets yours. This would be almost romantic if Ari didn’t make it beyond creepy by whispering how perfect you are and peppering kisses all over your face. His softening cock finally slips free from you, and you are happy to be empty until you feel the flow of his semen leaking from you. He notices your discomfort and mocks your whines as he pushes his jizz back into your swollen hole.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he starts, moving off of you to recline next to you, “Not gonna leave this bed ‘til you’re knocked up. As soon as you are, I’m gonna move you in with me. You are gonna be well taken care of, too. You are so perfect-every little thing about you. And when the baby comes, we are gonna be the perfect little family. You wouldn’t wanna ruin our family, right? You’re gonna be a good girl for me, huh?” he implores, holding your cheeks in his hand so your lips poke out a bit.

You nod while tears stream from your eyes, finding it hard to form words. But what would you have said? He seems to like you mostly silent; you haven’t uttered a single word since before he was inside you. It wasn’t too late to try, but it was too late to have hope; at least that’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t know about you, but I am starting to get hard again just looking at you. On all fours for me, Bunny. I know you got it in you,” he orders, no kindness in his voice.

You quickly scramble to get on your hands and knees for him and are happy that he is pleased with your speed. As he slides into your sensitive folds again, you grimace but hold in your noises of pain. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you hurt, even though what he is doing is traumatizing. He relishes in the gushy sounds your pairing makes and the mighty “oomph” you make when he wraps an arm around your neck and flattens you down to your belly.

He has you in a chokehold while his hips canter back and forth, plunging his length deeper and deeper inside you. When he hears you start to sputter and gulp in air, he removes his arm from around your neck and holds your face cheek-down on the bed.

“Look at her, taking my cock just like she should. You’ll be the prettiest little wife and mother, won’t you? Gonna keep you nice and round as much as I can. My perfect little Bunny…ugh, fuck,” he blurts, his release surprising him suddenly.

When he pulls out, he smacks your ass and lays down next to you while your life flashes before your eyes. He moves closer to you, readjusting your body to lay on top of his as he rubs your back. He kisses the top of your head in such a kind gesture that you feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

You can’t even bring yourself to fully cry, the tears streaming down your face just to splash on Ari’s denim shirt. Forgotten and dried up to never be seen again.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble!!!!

**Tag List**

I also didn't know who to tag since this is the first time I wrote Ari.

[steviewashere]

Perfect Timing

Rating: General CW: References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Dialogue Heavy

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is having hope for the future together."

💕—————💕

Steve was sitting at the dining table, hands spread out on the surface, staring down at a piece of mail when he heard Eddie clamber through the front door. Based on the string of things being dropped and Eddie not reacting negatively, just sighing a little bit and picking things up, must mean he was having a good day.

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air.

And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

See, Eddie was out playing a demo tape for a small record company based here in Chicago. A little indie place that’s been looking to expand their music catalogue from contemporary to a broader lick of alternative genres. Which, it turns out, includes thrash and heavy metal. Which, Steve adores, Eddie is amazing at performing.

But, Steve? He’s been anxiously waiting all day for the mail to arrive. Biting down on his fingernails, chewing them up so much they bleed and he has to run his fingertips under lukewarm water. Pacing the carpet of the living room. Pushing down and peering through the eggshell blinds. Biting his fingernails, again. And then it came and now he’s at their dining table and now he’s waiting for Eddie to careen around the corner and kiss his hair and ask in his greeting Steve voice, “What’s this, baby?”

“What’s this, baby?” Steve hears from above him. He jumps a little bit. Maybe he should have put on music or something, try to get himself to stay grounded in the present. “Stevie?” Eddie calls.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stutters. “It’s a letter I got in the mail, but I—I wanna hear about your demo tape.” Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. A little furrow to his eyebrows, a frown. “The letter isn’t anything bad, I read it already. But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Eddie hums, nodding in slow understanding. He slides into the dining seat across from Steve. Mirroring his position. Then, he realizes, based on whatever face Steve makes, that it’s only anxiety inducing. He sets his chin in his right palm, stretching the other onto the table for Steve to take. Waiting patiently. And says, when Steve actually grabs back, “It went really well, sweetheart. They offered me a contract.”

“That’s great news, Eds! What did—Did you sign it? Please tell me you signed it.”

Then, Eddie sighs. And Steve shrinks a little. “I did,” he tells slowly, as if testing the words for the first time. “I signed it. They’re keeping me based here. I’ll start recording next Saturday.” He squeezes at Steve’s hand.

“What’s the long face for, then?”

“I’m not making a face,” Eddie feebly argues.

“You are!” And Steve mocks him. Frowning, eyes distant to the surface of the table, bunching his eyebrows impossibly farther down his face. His shoulders slump. “That’s what you did! What happened? Were they pieces of shit to you or something? Did they like—Are they underselling your music prowess or something? Do I need to kick their—“

Eddie chuckles. His laughter like honey. “Babe, breathe for me,” he whispers. “My only issue is that—“ But he cuts himself off there. He leans in across the table. Eyes down at the letter in front of Steve. “That’s a letter from the community college, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hands back, laying them palm down on the paper. He swallows thickly. “It is. Why?”

“Did you get in?”

“I’m not telling you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You telling me determines whether or not I have a genuine problem. So…Did you get into the college that you’ve been looking at forlorn every time we drive by it? Or did you not and I need to go kick some old people ass?” His eyes are large in earnest. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His hair curtaining his face, making his facial features impossibly darker, shadowed by something tricky.

Steve chews on his lip. “I got in,” he mutters. “I got into their English literature program. And once I’m done with that, I transfer. And once I transfer, I start classes at a four year. I’ll be studying English literature and secondary education,” he rambles. His fingers tap over the letter. “Is that…Does that ruin your whole music dream? I don’t want to be the reason that you chase something else.”

For a moment, the room goes scary still and silent. Eddie’s facial features soften. And Steve’s heart rabbits against his ribcage. Hard enough that he slides a palm over his t-shirt, massaging at the rapid beating, hoping that he doesn’t have a heart attack on the third floor of their complex. That would suck, he thinks bitterly. And my future would be done for.

He sits back in his chair. Anxiety thrumming under his skin when Eddie still doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at him like he’s…Like he’s planning an entire five lifetimes with Steve. Like he’s about to sweep Steve off his feet, chuck him over the side of their mattress, give him hickeys until he’s a mottled lovesick mess, and then get down on one knee and surrender his heart to Steve’s hands. Like he’s gonna propose something wonderful like marriage. And, maybe, Steve lets himself believe something crazy like that.

“Remember when I told you that I consider marriage as a possibility?” Eddie asks abruptly.

And, goddamnit, if Eddie does something crazy and stupid like propose right now, Steve may just throw up out of excitement. How embarrassing, he thinks. And he chuckles despite that.

“I do,” he finds himself whispering. “What does this—“

“And I considered it with you. And I held you close and you cried against my lips and we made love like we were the only people in the universe? Remember all the times that you’d lay on top of me out of contentment? All the times I’d hold you close to my chest? All the times you kissed over my heart, like it was the only thing keeping us tethered to the moment?”

Nervously, Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I remember all that. What is your point with—“

“Fucking margarita nights. You’re a sweet drunk, d’you know that? Like almost unbearably sweet.” Eddie scoots his chair around the table. Setting it next to Steve, on his left. And his hands come into Steve’s field of view. Gathering Steve’s palms in his, squeezing and caressing the skin. “All the times in which we thought that this apartment was all that we had.” He shakes his head, smirking, snickering like this intense reaction he’s having is something funny to Steve.

Fact of the matter, Steve is scared shitless right now. What if this is his way of breaking up, he can’t help himself from wondering. Cruel. He swallows against the lump in his throat. Words escaping him.

“I want to marry you so bad,” Eddie swears. “Wanna do the whole ceremony. And the paper signing. And the honeymoon, but in some little cabin on a mountain. Where we load the fireplace with wood and we huddle in for warmth and we sip at rich cups of Uncle Wayne’s hot chocolate. And then, in a few years time, when we’ve financially recovered from the wedding, we’ll buy a house.

“We’ll buy a house and paint it yellow,” he promises. Steve begins to cry, something silent, but can’t pinch his nose to stop himself. “It’ll be yellow because that’s your favorite color. With white shutters. And a big backyard for a dog or two. Wrap around porch so that we can sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets.” He takes a deep breath that sounds a little nasally. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning,” he continues, “serve you a fresh bowl of strawberries, ones that you grow under the big front window of our house. I’ll kiss you all over the face, like I do now, and you’ll grumble that it’s too early and then you’ll smell the bacon and you’ll give me your stupid sleepy smile that makes my heart do funny little flips and you’ll kiss me on the mouth and it’ll be disgusting because you haven’t brushed your teeth.

“And I’ll be a very happy man.” Eddie’s breath trembles in his chest. He swallows hard. Steve wonders if he can hear his own shaky breath. Or if he’s too involved in whatever this is. “I’ll be so happy,” he whispers, “And I’ll find myself thinking, how did I ever get so lucky? But it isn’t luck. And it isn’t fate. It was trauma that forced us together and I’ll laugh about it. But then I’ll sigh because who the fuck cares how we started all of this?

“You’ll be a funky middle school English teacher. With your nicely done hair and a sweater vest and some khakis. I’ll be a musician, hopefully. But, every day you’ll have a small lunch; an orange that I made you peel but I removed the pulp from, a tuna salad sandwich because you’re my fish loving dork, and a bottle of water. I’ll leave you a note everyday telling you how proud I am because I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

“I’m proud of you, Steve, d’you know that? So much.” He laughs wetly. His eyes staring down at their interlocked hands. “All this to say that I’m proud of you. That I’m happy. We’ve got a future, sweetheart. And I want to be your husband. Will you—“ He swallows once more, thick and heavy and almost painful looking. Can love hurt when it’s this sweet?

Eddie finally looks up. His eyes glistening and his cheeks wet and his skin tinted pink. His eyelashes stuck together. Nose dripping only slightly. He’s a messy crier, but Steve doesn’t fare any better. “Will you marry me, Steve? Stay by my side and we’ll accomplish our dreams together?” His voice is soft. Enamored.

Unbelievable, Steve swallows back. Because how did he get somebody like Eddie in his life? How did he manage to find love and have it promised back at him?

“Yes, Eddie,” he gasps out. “God, holy shit.” He drops his hands from Eddie’s hold, instead wrapping them around his torso. Muffled into Eddie’s shoulder, “All this just because I’m finally figuring my shit out? God.”

Eddie cackles, burying his own face in Steve’s hair. They sway a little. “I just—“ Eddie begins whispering. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Every time seemed right, but this one? Baby, this one was perfect.”

Steve sighs into the embrace. Content to not say anything else. Except, “I’m proud of you, too, honey. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, love bug. God, Steve, I love you, too.”

For the first time since 1983, Steve allows himself to truly settle in for a future. A future, he knows, he’ll be especially proud of.

💕—————💕 Fun fact, I accidentally deleted this whole ficlet when I was copying and pasting. Hit the spacebar and watched it disappear in front of my eyes. But I figured out how to get it back, not before almost throwing up on myself out of anger. Love y'all <3