#I still remember when the fandom waited so long for the first picture of Baby Tom <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

If the Bun's as Sweet as You

Part 2 of Sweet as You

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x pregnant!wife!baker!reader

Summary: After you find out you're pregnant, you try to use baking jokes to tell Deacon. Unfortunately, he isn't the first to understand you.

Warnings: fluff!! Street and Hondo. r is implied to have an irregular cycle?

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

A/N: I swear I could look at his smile forever. An extra special thanks to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for the amazing ideas about using "bun in the oven" and Deac being oblivious!

In your bakery’s kitchen, you sit and press the back of your hand against your mouth. The last week or so, you have been nauseous, and emotional, and the smells you once found mouthwateringly amazing are now causing your stomach to churn.

“What are you making, boss?” your employee Tristan asks. “Smells amazing.”

You increase the pressure of your hand against your mouth while fighting the urge to throw up. It hits you then: you might be pregnant. What other explanation exists for a sudden sensitivity to certain smells and tastes, plus the morning sickness that has been pulling you out of bed even before Deacon wakes?

“Tristan, I need you to take over,” you say quickly. “I have a quick errand to run, and it may turn into a personal day.”

“Sure thing. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. There’s lemon snaps in the oven and cheesecake filling setting in the fridge. Schedule’s on the board, call if you need anything.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about anything, just take care of you.”

You nod in thanks, then hang your apron on its designated hook before gathering your things. There’s a pharmacy just a few blocks away, but you want to take the tests at home rather than in a public restroom.

In less than an hour, you have five tests waiting on your bathroom sink as you sit on the edge of the tub and watch your leg bounce with the timer on your phone. When it dings, you exhale before you stand. You don’t have time to wonder how you’ll feel if they’re negative before you see two pink lines. Then, a plus sign. And a digital message reading ‘Pregnant 3+.’ Every test is positive.

You smile as you gather the tests and place them in a box below the sink. Telling Deacon has to be special, but you don’t want to wait. A baker joke, you think as you prepare to return to the bakery. It will be perfect.

Your stop at the bakery is quick; you ensure Tristan and the rest of your staff are doing well, then gather an assortment of treats. You ensure that Deacon and his team’s known favorites are included before you leave for HQ.  Since marrying Deacon, you’ve been welcomed into their station more times than you can count, and they’re family to you.

“Wait,” Deacon says, dropping his guard.

“For what?” Street asks as he steps back.

“See how he perked up like a dog?” Luca points out.

“Uh, yeah.”

Hondo interrupts to explain, “That means his wife is incoming. I’d say in about, three… two…”

“Mrs. Kay!” Rocker yells around the corner.

“I’m getting pretty good at that, Deac!” Hondo brags. “Watch your back, my man.”

“Hi, guys!” you greet as you round the corner.

Rocker is carrying the boxes for you now, and Deacon’s team can’t decide whether to look at you or the baked goods you brought them.

“Dig in, they’re still warm,” you say.

Luca, Hondo, and Street tap your arm gently in thanks as they follow Rocker to a nearby table. Deacon smiles as he exits the ring and walks to your side.

“I missed you,” you murmur as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Missed you too,” Deacon agrees. “I didn’t get to see you for long this morning. Are you feeling better?”

You nod, remembering that a few hours ago, you were sick but didn’t know why. Now, you press your hand against your thigh to keep it from resting on your nonexistent baby bump.

“I brought your favorite again,” you tell Deacon. “I’ve been thinking that I could use that flavor in some other kind of recipe, maybe make it a bit savory somehow.”

“Anything you make will be amazing.”

“Like you?” you ask, smiling as you lean against his side.

“Like you.” Deacon keeps his arm around your waist and drops his chin to kiss you quickly. He looks at the open boxes and says, “You brought more today.”

“I made a ton,” you agree. Then, you smile as you add, “Plus, there’s a bun in the oven.”

Deacon’s brows furrow, but his smile never drops as he asks, “Just one? That’s a terrible business plan.”

You laugh, caught off guard by how easily your pregnancy announcement went over his head. Deacon has been incredibly attuned to you and your needs since long before you were married. Yet, when you tell him you’re pregnant, he thinks you’re talking about your bakery.

“I’m going to go get some before it’s all gone,” Deacon whispers, carefully removing his arm from around you.

“Enjoy,” you murmur, shaking your head in amusement.

“The weekly visits may have been a terrible idea,” Deacon announces when he returns home after his shift. “It’s just enough time to make me want you around more.”

“I’m sure Hondo feels the same,” you agree.

“What are you up to?”

Deacon wraps his arms around your waist and drops his chin to your shoulder, pressing a kiss against your neck. You lean against him and set your pen aside, the beginnings of a new recipe jotted down in your favorite recipe binder.

“I started baking a new recipe,” you begin carefully, “but it won’t be ready for 8 months, give or take.”

Deacon hums, then asks, “How do you get your recipes so perfect? Besides being brilliant and all the time you put in?”

You close your eyes, smile, and drop your head against his shoulder. Deacon is smart, but it seems he’s entirely oblivious when it comes to a baby.

“Mostly time, trial and error,” you answer. “Which hopefully only applies to baking and not making other things.”

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” Deacon asks.

“No. Why? Did you get called in?”

“You’re stuck with me.”

You hum and decide to try a more direct approach. “I promise that if I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom to be sick, it’s not because of you,” you joke. “The bun in my oven just doesn’t seem to like mornings.”

Deacon nods against you before he steps back and offers to make dinner. You consider showing him the positive tests, but now you want to see how long it will take for Deacon to realize what you’ve been trying to tell him all day.

Forty-eight hours after learning that you are expecting a baby with your husband, Deacon, he has yet to catch on to a single one of your hints. You’ve tried every version of the ‘bun in the oven’ line, mentioned that you shouldn’t have rum cake, made jokes about your morning sickness, and even pointed out that being a baker is the perfect occupation to make it easier to eat for two. Deacon Kay is oblivious, you’ve discovered.

So, to get your mind off the dilemma of how to tell your husband without just blurting out I’m pregnant, you’ve taken to experimenting in the kitchen. When the third batch of your sweet and savory cookie crisps is finished, you carry the tray around the bakery and ask for your employees’ opinions. After six of them give you a thumbs up and one admits that she doesn’t like crunchy cookies, you package the new item and wave goodbye to your kitchen assistant.

You’re going over your weekly visit to SWAT HQ, but you don’t care. As you walk in, you hear Deacon talking.

“Hello, beautiful,” Hondo calls. “I finally beat Deacon to you.”

“Not by much,” Deacon points out as he walks to your side. “Whoa, what are those?”

“They don’t have a name yet,” you answer, passing the box to him. “They’re a twist on a savory chocolate chip cookie crisp.”

“I’m sorry,” Hondo tells you, laying his hand on your shoulder. “Your husband was distracted by the cookies. How are you feeling?”

Deacon rolls his eyes and passes the box of cookies to Street.

“How did you come up with this recipe?” Luca inquires.

You decide that now, surrounded by your friends, is as good a time as any to try one more time.

“I think the bun in the oven is making me a better baker,” you admit.

The men around you freeze, and everything is silent for several seconds.

“Congratulations!” Luca exclaims, hugging you tightly.

Hondo points at you with a bright smile and says, “You can’t give me that look when I call you Mama now!”

“Oh my gosh,” Street murmurs, reaching toward your stomach. “Can we call them Cookie?”

You laugh and say, “Sounds like I’m bloated, but sure.”

“What?” Deacon asks slowly. When you look back at him, his eyes are wide, and his brows are raised high on his forehead. “What?” he repeats.

“I’ve been telling you for two days, Deacon!”

“No, you haven’t!”

You smile and take Deacon’s hand. “You’re way too pretty to be this oblivious.”

“Hey, if pretty’s all you’re after,” Hondo interjects, shrugging as he raises a cookie toward his mouth.

“Back off,” Deacon chides playfully. He looks at you and asks, “You’re pregnant?”

You smile and nod as you raise your hands to his shoulders. “You’re going to be a dad, Sergeant Kay.”

Deacon’s eyes brighten as he smiles. Then, his smile drops long enough for him to mumble, “Oh.”

“You just caught on to everything I’ve been saying,” you accuse.

Deacon kisses you rather than admitting you’re right but pulls back quickly when Street asks, “Hey, can I be the godfather?”

“Over my dead body,” Hondo answers lowly.

“I feel like we’re interrupting something,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I love you,” Deacon replies.

“I love you, too. And if this baby is anywhere near as sweet as you, everyone here is going to love them, too.”

“We'll love Cookie, you mean,” Street calls.

[nobodysdaydreams]

hi!! any SQ fics?

Okay, anon, I'll be honest. This is a very hard one. Not because there are no fics, because there are SO MANY. I cannot possibly include them all or even a fraction of what there is. The fandom loves the boy. We write a ton for him. I'll try to narrow it down to my favorites and for some authors that write a lot for him, I'll just recommend you raid their account.

First, here are some baby SQ fics (show version) that feature SQ as a cute little baby when he was adopted by Curtain 🥺

Letting Go and Holding Tight by @/twokidsinatrenchcoat (I don't know their tumblr). An AU of if baby SQ convinced Curtain not to be so evil.

me and my two hands by @plentyghosts one of my top TMBS fics, featuring little baby SQ. You're just gonna want to raid their entire account honestly, if you want SQ content.

S.O.S. by me. A long AU about how Curtain met SQ's birth parents and how that influenced his character leading into a hypothetical season 3. Baby SQ is in chapters 3 and 4. Curtain's relationship with his birth parents is detailed in chapter 2. Young SQ is in later chapters if you wish to read on.

Fluff:

someone only you could want by @kneeslapworthy. One of my favorites. SQ and Curtain reestablish their father and son relationship after Curtain is defeated (show version).

Son, Nephew, Friend by @heyitsthatonesmolgay. SQ is frozen and Curtain is desperate to bring his son back (show version)

Who You Were Meant To Be by me. After the events of the books, SQ makes an unlikely friend in his old enemy, Martina Crowe (book version)

Buoyancy by @mvshortcut SQ is part of the society now, and they show him what real family is like (books or show). Milk has a ton of good SQ content, so you should raid their account too.

fostering the illusion by @myfairkatiecat wasn't sure whether to put this as fluff or angst, more of a character study of why Curtain adopted SQ (show versions)

unfocused, vulnerable by @never-wake-up. SQ has disabilities, but Mr. Benedict is there

Angst and Hurt Comfort:

And Without It One Cannot Start Over by @mvshortcut, (book versions). Poor SQ believes it is only a matter of time before Mr. Benedict takes him to jail.

Out There by @plentyghosts. Little SQ runs away from home (show version). Like I said, you're gonna want to raid this AO3 for content, trust me.

forks by @mahpotatoequeen. A sad fic about Curtain's abuse

A kiss- by @plentyghosts. I don't know how to summarize this other than by screaming, so just picture me screaming at the top of my lungs.

Out Cold by @sophieswundergarten. SQ is left by Curtain on the island. Sadly, it's not a tropical vacation.

The Answer to This Riddle Has a Hole in the Middle by @mvshortcut. SQ is mistreated and has to watch the children be abused.

The Boys Who Waited by me. This one is more about the twins, but features a young SQ trying his best to help his father (show version)

All It Takes Is Once by @heyitsthatonesmolgay. Remember when I said I was screaming earlier? I'm still screaming. Why does book Curtain have a heart? How dare you, I just... (*throw things around wildly*) Also this is another account to raid if you like SQ content.

AUs:

I Saw You by @heyitsthatonesmolgay. SQ becomes a villain in a superpowered AU after he feels betrayed by the society and his father.

not a lot, just forever by @kneeslapworthy. SQ is left with Mr. Benedict after his father flees

Sun and Moon (which isn’t really about the Sun and the Moon at all) by @fandom-queen-13. A fairytale AU retelling of how SQ was "adopted" by his father (book or show versions)

Crack:

S.Q. Comes Home by @myfairkatiecat. Curtain tries to pick his son up from the airport without anyone noticing. They notice.

And there is SO MUCH MORE anon. These are the ones off the top of my head, the classics, but go to anyone on this list's account and there will honestly probably be more. We love the boy.

[jarita123]

I have been a part of MCU fandom since it started in 2008, watched comic book movies way before it (X-Men were kind of a thing), Keaton´s Batman is still my Batman (I know, DC, I had no idea in the early 90s there was such a thing :D ).

But I don´t remember it ever being so toxic as it is lately. Admittedly, I kind of started to "fan" Tom himself more past few years, I still love RDJ and all the original guys from Phase 1 but my God, people went insane with social media.

And what is going on in Loki fandom? Or around Tom personally? Like people don´t believe he is in a relationship, and I only wait for first crazy to say "It is not his baby!" like they keep doing with poor Benedict. So he found himself a partner, good for him and he is obviously happy!

I loved all the red carpet content we got, I love that he is *finally* getting out of his shell after years of random appearances (granted, we were robbed for red carpets for Loki, first because of Covid and second because of strikes) and The Essex Serpent had some but most interviews were done by video (still not enough of them). So he is going to conventions, which is a fantastic thing. He meets fans, he loves meeting fans and it is great that we are not just waiting for Bobby/baby walk pictures. He can do whatever the hell he wants. And getting paid for it? He is a performer and is paid to perform. It is simple as that.

He just wrapped a movie in October and had a highly successful show in November. And he is still praised for it, may get some more nominations, will campaign for Emmy. Yes, he can do other stuff and he does but it takes time to make something and get things into productions is not easy. He obviously loves Loki and what actor can say they still can work with a character this long and still find something new? He basically created the character on screen and now will be forever remembered and anybody coming after him will be compared to Tom. That is no small achievement.

When it happened that "fans" think they know what is the best for a person they don´t even know in person? Give the guy a break.

And don´t get me started with those crazy "shipping wars", which is something I had now idea existed before (yes, I am a boomer already). Loki even did not kiss or stayed with anybody at the end, so what is the deal? Stop insulting each other, and stop projecting Tom and Sophia as Loki and Sylvie. Yes, it was probably only one or two cases but it is not normal. Sorry.

*Rant over*

[bidisasterevankinard]

Eternity in your hands

Buck still can`t believe it. His little girl sleeps peacefully on his chest with his big hands on her back. She was born a week ago, at home for three days. And still it feels unrealistically. Like Buck is dreaming. But he is not. She is here, in her LAFD onesie, which he bought for her the moment they found out about their surrogate mother pregnancy.  

Eddie had just smiled after Buck brought it home, hugging him behind and said it would be definitely their favorite onesie. And it is. It was the first outfit their baby girl wore in the hospital after nurses had cleaned her.  

This onesie highlights her blue eyes when she is not sleeping, and Buck feels so proud knowing she takes it from him.  

“You know we should put her in a crib otherwise she will constantly demand to sleep in our arms, right?”, Eddie`s whisper breaks the silence in which Buck has been for some time. He can`t say how much exactly. He actually can`t say how he ended up with her in his arms, while he is sitting in his and Eddie`s bed. But he is pretty sure his little loss of time is explained by having a little baby who need to be feed in the night. He's just a little sleep deprived because of taking care of the baby girl.

That is the only reason all the memories of his life are a little bit blurred. But he remembers how Eddie asked him out first time, how they moved together month after, and got married six months after. He remembers how they struggled for months trying to find a good surrogate mother, how they were waiting for a succeed and how miraculously it was to have a positive test from the first try. Buck remembers it. It is his life.

“I know”, Buck turns his head to Eddie, who is looking at Buck with a haze of sleep in his eyes, “but today she`s a little bit in the mood, and I didn`t want her to wake you. And I really wanted to cuddle her too. She wouldn`t be so small for a long time. I want to picture it in my brain.“

“Can I join?”, Eddie asks sitting on the bed next to his husband, resting his head on Buck's shoulder. He puts one arm around Buck's waist, and puts the other on the vacant place on the baby's back, as Buck puts his hand on his thigh, lightly stroking it with his thumb in a circle. Younger man puts his head on Eddie's. And they both look down at their princess.

“I love you and our little family,” says Buck with all the love and adoration he has in his heart for a man who made him happy. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for our family.”

“I love you too”, Eddie whispers it into his ear. “Loving you is the easiest thing I`ve ever done,” older man squeezes the hand on her husband's waist tighter. “Thank you for loving me, Chris and our little girl. Thank you for our family”.

They continue to cuddle in the light of the early morning sun holding their baby girl in their arms in silence. They don't need words to enjoy this moment. A moment of love. And even little voice inside Bucks brain, telling him he should not get so comfortable in this life, can`t break the atmosphere of love and happiness around him. He will stay in the arms of his husband and daughter for as long as he can, because there is no way he will let go of this moment just like that. Perhaps he will be able to negotiate with the universe about eternity.

I dedicate this work to @loveyourownsmiilee because you're created the coma!Buck theory and I'm in love with this and to @swiftiediaz I really love your works and you're inspired me to write myself and I felt proud with the result so I posted it

It's my 1st work in the buddie fandom and 1st on English. I hope you like it😊 Let me know your opinion

[lazaruspiss]

20 questions for writers

tagged by @roipecheur mwah mwah !!

1. how many works do you have on AO3? - 34

2. what's your total AO3 word count? - 65,516

3. what fandoms do you write for? - its pure DC brainrot babes. maybe that'll change one day, but i have a hard time balancing multiple interests

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? - A Kind Place To Rest, What’s in a gift?, Indulgence, Always a Kitten, Red Wings

5. do you respond to comments? - i try!!! but know that even if i don't reply i give each and every comment a lil smooch

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - most of my stuff is pretty fucked up, but Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish. and The Leagues That Go Bump In The Night are probably up there? both because they involve Dick experiencing violent assaults with the promise of more to come and because he doesn't compartmentalize/justify/repress it much at all. so he's just forced to experience The Horrors. Damian's chapter in A curse in disguise. is the thing that actually makes me wanna yell though. I wrote that?? I only have myself to blame for making me feel things??? what the fuck man.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - tough question. hm. I was able to pull up like, 6 candidates, but I'm not really sure how to measure "happy ending". Endings that were the most... more happy by the end than when they started...? i guess? There are a few that end on a "and the ship sailed happily ever after" type note. New Beginnings is a bit more enthusiastically happy, because Dick and Kori are just so damn excited to have babies

8. do you get hate on fics? - most of the hate i've gotten has been tumblr anons, lol

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind? - the freaky kind >:) (22/34 of my fics are explicit)

10. do you write crossovers? - nah. thought about it, have wanted to, but it takes a bit more planning than a regular fic

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? - nah

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? - no, but i would welcome it so long as it linked back and all that

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? - WAIT YES I HAVE. in middle school i think? during a sleepover a friend and i sat together on a couch and sent emails back and forth, taking turns adding onto a smut fic about british gaming youtubers that i dont think they even knew? also our incredibly innocent/prudish christian friend might have also been there lmao. that fic stayed in our emails im pretty sure.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? - ough...h hg..... jay and cole from ninjago. w other series i tend to be more "pick a fav and explore all possible parings involving them", but i only ever picture jay and cole with each other. for me that means something

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will? - oh uh. gotta bust out file explorer hold on. I did plan on making an entire series of fics connected to Little Princess, but I doubt I'll get to that, especially bc im not that proud of that fic anymore. there are a couple more fairly detailed and large projects sitting in my scrapped folder. and i mean, i keep a scrapped folder bc that way i dont have the pressure of finishing it but i still have the option if i want to.

16. What are your writing strengths? - uhm. uh.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? - forget to write the words. i also have a bit of dyslexia and miss stuff no matter how much i proof read

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - depends? if it's a full conversation then i think i'd opt for <dialogue> or something like that, but if it's for random background chatter or mixed language dialogue then maybe just use the actual words. kind of have to, in the second case. spanglish type talk is fun actually, like sometimes i just talk like that to try and figure out what spanish i remember

19. First fandom you wrote for? - probably minecraft youtubers? the first i posted online was my hero academia tho. dont ask me about MHA btw i literally only care about kaminari and stopped keeping up like 4 years ago

20. Favourite fic you've written? - uh. hm. Aha! only my third fic but it ticks all my boxes and i love it dearly: Lulu Belle And The Cat-Chaser

[idjitlovespie]

Thomas Colton Padalecki - March 19, 2012

Happy 7th Birthday Tom ♥

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃𝓁𝒾𝓉 ⎹ 𝓗.𝓙.

fandom dc comics / galaxy’s edge au masterlist / @dollsdc-library

featuring stepdad!hal jordan x minx!reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning stepdad fantasy, infidelity ( him ), daddy kink, very very brief somnophilia, creampie

summary coming home after too long away, hal has one thing on his mind. his wife’s daughter.

word count 2.5k / mini musing

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

the entire trip home, Hal’s hands were shaking. he missed Earth. he missed his home, his warm bed, he missed plopping down on the couch to have a beer, instead of saving the universe. most of all, he missed you.

he knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. he was feverish, his mind racing with visages of you. they were memories, the same ones that kept him up at night, alone, and fucking his own fist in the dark, wishing he was nestled deep inside you. time away from home had gotten significantly harder to bear since you came along.

and now, here he was, headed home with his body on fire. he needed you.

it had to be well after midnight when he finally stood in the drive, sliding the ring from his finger into his pocket. the house was completely dark, and he kept it that way even when he crept inside. his wife had work early in the morning, and any respectable husband would tiptoe up the stairs, and slide into bed as quiet as a mouse so as not to wake her. that thought twisted a grimace on to Hal’s countenance as he took the steps two at a time.

when had he ever been a respectable husband?

reaching the landing, with only the dull glow of the moon to guide him, he’s met with two options: his bedroom and yours.

it was hardly a choice at all.

in an instant, he’s standing in front of your door with his hand on the knob. his heart pounds against his rib cage and he finds it even harder to breathe when he lets himself inside. firstly, he’s hit with a wave of your perfume, and the lingering faintness of your body wash. you always smelled so damn sweet, like a candy shop, and it drove him crazy. then, he sees you on the bed. curled up on your side, you’re nested under a layer of sheets, but he knows that you’re not wearing much, just your panties; your torso swaddled in a skimpy, cropped tank. he remembered the emerald garment — you’d been upset when Green Lantern pajama set you wanted only came in child sizes, but you’d still bought one that was a size too small. you often wore the top around the house, your breasts all but spilling over the neckline, making it incredibly difficult for Hal to keep his eyes off of you. Hal’s eyes flickered over the multiple newspaper clippings, posters, and Polaroid pictures of his own countenance. at first, he thought it was a bit strange, sleeping with a GL fangirl that had no idea her stepdaddy was behind the mask, but now he was even mildly amused.

maybe one day he’d tell you.

as he pressed closer to your bed, he considered the probability of you even begging to suck him off while he wears the suit. it was surprisingly likely, and he couldn’t help but smirk, thinking about how powerful he’d feel, fully suited up, with a handful of your hair, listening to you choke on him.

Hal shuddered as he stripped and climbed into the bed; no more fantasies. he was here. you were here. and he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t have you right now. he’d waited long enough, wanted long enough. sliding in behind you, one strong arm snakes around your waist and pulls you back into his warmth. Hal dips his head, leaving a trail of kisses over your neck leading up to your ear. you hum in your sleep, pressing back against him, your butt grinding against his already hardening cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, incredulous into your ear, one hand grasping your hip to keep you flush against him so he can press his bare erection against your panties, “I missed just how good you feel in my arms.” you were starting to come around, mumbling incoherent in a soft, sleepy little voice, but his free hand was already sliding up to rest against your throat, angling your head back so he can nip at your lobe. the opposite one careens over your hip and delves under the layer of cover, for his fingers to spear against your panties.

“H—al—“ you groan, eyes still closed, but one of your hands flee behind you to grasp the back of his head, your hips oscillating to grind against his palm. “You’re… home… finally…”

“Finally’s right.” he mutters, finding your steady swelling clit even through the thin, dampening fabric. “Hope you’ve been a good girl since I’ve been gone.”

you purr, tilting your head back even further to look up at him, your eyelids finally fluttering open, and your teeth sink into your lip to stifle a sultry moan. “Feel how wet my little pussy is, daddy?” you coo, “I’ve been good.” he’d set damn near impossible rules for when he left for work — no touching yourself. there had been plenty of times when you were aching for it, rubbing your thighs together, trying to get yourself off without breaking his stupid rule, but the stimulation wasn’t enough. so you spent the last three months wanton and in a damn-near constant state of slick, dreaming about just how good his thick cock feels on your belly. it was torture, and you fixed your mouth to tell him so.

Hal grunts, lips grazing your forehead as your crown rests against his heaving chest, his fingers pressing hard on your clothed button. you sigh in pleasure, back arching, but his forearm digs into your belly, pressing you back against his abdomen, “You know why daddy has his no touching rule, minx?” you shake your head, whining soft, keeping heavily lidded eyes on his taut countenance, “Because I want you to to be so damn needy by the time I come home that you soak my fingertips,” he seals his mouth over your forehead in a lazy kiss, rubbing in vicious circles, “wanna feel your tight pussy stretch for me, and only me, I wanna feel you cum as soon as I slide it in because you’ve missed being so full of cock that you just can’t hold it in.” you moan out loud, from his words alone, and his hand on your neck shoots up to clamp over your mouth, “Shh,” he pulls you closer to him, eyeline darting towards the bedroom door; it was ajar. aside from your heavy breath on his palm, and the muffled whimpering, the house was still quiet. “You can feel how much I missed you, can’t you?” he asks, rubbing his hard cock against your butt to emphasize his point, and you nod, “Yeah? And you missed me just as much?” another nod, and he sucks in a breath, holding it as if to prepare himself, “Prove it to me.”

your body acts before your brain can catch up, both of your hands sliding down between your legs, one enveloping his thick, throbbing manhood, fondling the sensitive tip until every muscle in his body has tightened. you purr against his palm, eyelashes fluttering, as your digits work to lather his length in his own precum that is just starting to pearl on the head, stroking him from tip, down to base, and back up again. your other hand nudges his away from your core, svelte fingers curling around the crotch of your panties to pull them to one side. “Too impatient to get those off?” he teases, but his teeth are grinding, “You want that cock so bad that you just can’t wait, is that it?” your back arches, and you nod yet again, grasping him by his girthy base and guiding him to your eager cunt. the split and stretch has you both moaning— you, mewling into his hand, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to groan. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, slurred, “that’s the warm, fucking pussy I’ve been craving…”

thankful for his hand clamped over your open mouth, you realize just how right he was— the feeling his cock sliding into you after so long has your mind going blank, your eyes crossing as you try to keep them open and on the man behind you. in the dark, you can see the shape of him, chiseled and strong, and you can feel your body already releasing an ounce of ecstasy. it wasn’t near the power of the orgasm you were used to, but it most certainly set your sensitivity level up to one hundred. you push back against him, taking more of his cock into you, moaning happily, and Hal pants in your ear, “Show me just how happy you are to have your daddy and his big, fucking dick home,” he rasps, “fuck yourself for me.”

you wanted to protest; you were too spoiled by his raw power when he pounded deep, and you wanted to feel him plow you into the mattress, but you were too starved for him to put up a fight. with a pitifully muffled moan, you rock back against him, listening to the squelching as you use him like a cheap sex toy. you were so fucking wet; when he plunges back inside there’s almost no resistance at all, allowing you to slam yourself back and take him hilt deep.

“Good fucking girl,” Hal moans in your ear, kissing it, his free hand running up to take hold of the neckline of your top, jerking it downwards to free your bouncing breasts. he paws at one, then gives it a firm slap, before massaging the sting into your flesh. you yelp, kissing his palm. “stay nice and quiet for daddy, just listen to how sloppy wet your pussy is, swallowing all of me like the greedy, little fuckhole she is.”

you whimper, brows knitting together. there’s a churning in your belly already, intensifying each time your ass jiggles, smushing against his pelvis to take him deep. you’re close to cumming, again, and this time it’ll be big. hopefully, Hal would keep his hand over your mouth, otherwise you worried you might wake your mother, screaming for her husband’s cock. your walls shudder with excitement, the impending climax crossing your eyes as you look up at him.

he’s equally as tense, jaw strung tight, features harsh, and you can feel droplets of his sweat tickle your forehead. “My little Minx gonna cum already? It feel that good, baby?” he croons, forcing a strained smirk, and you nod, “Mm, I know, I can feel you already starting to tighten up on me— fuck, I’m close, you want to cum with daddy?”

“Mm! Mhm!” you cry, deciding that nodding was not a fervent enough answer. you arch back into him, hips quivering.

“Yeah?” he teases, his own body rocking into you this time, pounding the syllable home. “Hold on to something, minx.”

you knew exactly what that meant.

scrambling, you only reach for him, the hand that keeps your noises muffled, and your nails dig into his forearm. just in time, too, because Hal grips your breast in one hand, and your mouth in the other, and immediately jackhammers into your body with so much force that your feet kick, haplessly, between his legs. you squeal, a pathetic and whiny sound that dies in his hand as he batters your sex, using your body to fuck his way into bliss, and you drop off along the way, coming undone with shivering, whimpering spasms of pure pleasure.

“I’m going to cum in your pussy, little minx…” it’s hardly a warning, but you didn’t care. if anything, you might be offended if he chose not to fill your tummy after months of being away. Hal sounds just like a beast when he cums, snorting and groaning, and you’d never tire of hearing it. his hot breath pricking goosebumps on your neck that was already littered with his saliva and lovebites, his hands cruel on your skin, leaving the shape of them imprinted. “Fuck, take me, perfect girl, take me.”

your thighs are quivering when you start to feel the familiar growing warmth in your core, and Hal takes his precious time pulling out, teasing your clenching cunt, drawing his cock out a torturous speed until the swollen head pops free.

he’s breathing even more ragged as he wrenches the sheets back, sitting up on he knees. finally released from his grip, you gasp for more air, rolling over on to your back, your hands falling back by your flushed countenance on the pillow. you’d made a mess of the sheets, the patch of wet visible under your bum, but he stares at it with a lusty grin, prying your quivering thighs open. “Show me,” he barks, husky and desperate.

you whine, spreading your legs even though they’re starting to cramp up, and one hand runs down over your breasts, down to your belly, and eventually to your sex. using two fingers, you spread your sticky lips apart, flashing him your used hole as it twitches. Hal presses his palm on your lower belly, and his cum leaks out of you in a gooey mess. “Look at the mess you made, Minx,” he groans, two fingers scooping what he can as it coats your core, “are you daddy’s messy, little whore?”

“Yes.” you moan, arching your back.

Hal quirks a brow, pushing those fingers into you, forcing the cocktail of arousal back into your body, “Tell me.”

you bite your lip, thighs trying to snap closed, but he’s pushing all of his weight on to one, keeping it pinned to the mattress, “I’m daddy’s messy, little whore!” you croak, nodding happily.

Hal seems pleased enough, pushing your hand away so he can pull your ruined panties back in place. he pats your pussy through them, as if proud of the carnage he’s lain. “And you’re going to lay right here, oozing daddy’s cum, and think about how good it feels being his whore until you fall asleep, aren’t you?”

a breathless smile tickles your lips, “Yes, daddy, and I’ll dream about you fucking me senseless, like I always do.” your voice has leveled out to a small degree, allowing for the singsong chirp to return.

your stepdad smiles, too, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Attagirl.” he murmurs, before he’s climbing out of your bed and pulling his pants back on. it was shame to cover up his naked form, you’d always thought that, and now as you watched him, you nibble on your lip. his muscles bulging and contracting as he bends over to retrieve his shirt.

“Don’t go in there and fuck her.” you hiss, eyes narrowed.

Hal pauses, turns, and quirks a brow. “Is my little minx jealous?”

[humanwheatleyslefttoenail]

why do you ship chell and glados if glados is basically her mom

Okay this is actually a pretty common misconception in the fandom that unfortunately a lot of people have taken as canon, but I’m feeling nice so I’ll answer your question.

Basically, anon is referencing a theory from around 2012 that Caroline is Chell’s mom. The evidence for the theory is as follows:

- The turret opera calls Chell “bambina”, which means “little girl” in Italian

- Chell’s name can be found on a Bring Your Daughter To Work Day science project

- GLaDOS references the possibility of Chell being adopted multiple times

- GLaDOS is significantly nicer to Chell after discovering she’s Caroline 

And, anon, you’re right, it does sound like a pretty good argument at first glance. The problem is that a lot of these points don’t actually hold up to scrutiny.

For example, although “bambina” literally translates to “little girl,” it’s often used in the same way “baby girl” is used in English - it can mean child, but contextually it’s usually a flirtatious term. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

For Chell’s science project, it doesn’t work as evidence for the theory because GLaDOS killed the scientists around 1998-ish, when Caroline had presumably been uploaded several years earlier and Cave was already dead. Also, Chell’s in her 20′s, and since we know from Lab Rat/Portal 2 that people don’t age in stasis, and that Doug put Chell at the top of the test subject list only weeks after the takeover, Chell was 28 at the time of the takeover. The science project is really only an Easter egg and doesn’t actually fit into the canon timeline let alone prove anything about Caroline and Cave. 

GLaDOS talking about Chell being adopted is a pretty strong point, I’ll admit, but also it’s important to remember that maybe half of what GLaDOS says is true. And even if we take what she says at face value, she also says there’s a man and a woman in stasis with Chell’s last name, which could not have been Cave and Caroline because they were already dead at that point. And the official book Final Hours Of Portal 2 confirms Cave and Caroline were not married and could not have shared the same name anyway. It was also the 50′s, an an unmarried couple of two likely famous people having a child would’ve been scandalous, and yet we see no hint of something like this affecting their company. 

Also, although GLaDOS is nicer to Chell after the Caroline reveal, that’s not necessarily indicative of a mother-daughter relationship, and neither is any of their interactions. It’s just. GLaDOS being friendlier. 

Finally, when this theory was made (and let’s be honest - it still is happening) Chell was constantly whitewashed to hell and back. 

Chell is Japanese-Brazilian, and Cave and Caroline are white, so it would be a near impossibility for her to be their biological child (and insisting otherwise is kinda. just. whitewashing). And although people will cry “adoption!”, based on what I’ve previously proven, that’s pretty much impossible. This theory that somehow she’s Cave and Caroline’s daughter erases an important part of her identity. [Disclaimer, I am white, but this is what I’ve heard from around the fandom]

With all that said, the idea that she’s the daughter of Cave and Caroline really doesn’t hold weight when you really analyze the canon. It’s surface level analysis that doesn’t hold up. And honestly? The idea kinda cheapens the story. It’s much more powerful that GLaDOS learns to care about Chell and becomes kinder than just. Oh, she remembered she’s related to Chell. 

But to actually answer your ask. 

Why do I ship them?

Well, they aren’t mother and daughter, I think that’s pretty obvious now. But if you actually look at a lot of subtext in Portal 2, without the lens of the mother theory, it’s actually pretty romantic! 

I know that sounds ridiculous, but bear with me!

Now - it’s totally okay if you don’t ship them. I get it. Their interactions in Portal 1 and the first half of Portal 2 are toxic if not outright well. Y’know. Murderous. I completely understand why that turns people off from shipping them, and ultimately, shipping is a personal thing. To each his own. 

But before you judge me, let me present my case.

Exhibit A: Portal 

Portal is kinda gay. No, really. Chell and GLaDOS are enemies in this game, but the entire focus is on their relationship (good or not) and the power struggle between them. They are opposites, two sides of the same coin, different representations of opposite ideologies. People have analyzed Portal as a relationship metaphor, or as a metaphor about women’s role in society - either way, the heart of Portal is the complicated dynamic between Chell and GLaDOS. 

That’s not necessarily enough to code a romance, but a lot of popular (and especially popular queer ones) ships begin with opposite ideologies, symbolic powers colliding. Portal cements their relationship as a toxic one, something on the verge of falling apart and hurting both parties in the end. The ending image, of Chell and GLaDOS side by side after the battle, reinforces the symbolic parallels between the two. 

The companion cube is also pretty symbolically important to this interpretation. It’s literally a representation of someone’s heart, and you are told to protect it and preserve it under GLaDOS’ orders, and then you have to destroy it regardless of how you actually feel about doing that. You are destroying GLaDOS’ heart, so to speak. 

There’s also the ending song, Still Alive. The lyrics speak for themselves.

They hint that GLaDOS’ feelings about Chell are more complicated than they may appear (if she’s not being sarcastic...) and she literally talks about Chell breaking her heart (also, think back to the companion cube. Yeah.). The entire song is structurally similar to many a breakup number, with the laments of “I’m glad it happened, but also leave.” 

At the end, we also see that the long promised cake GLaDOS was supposedly lying about was real the whole time. Before Portal 2 came out, it was mostly interpreted as a stinger ending (along with the nicer lyrics of Still Alive) to make you question GLaDOS’ true motives and intentions.

She actually did have a real cake waiting for you. (Side note - not really evidence, but in Argentina, “torta” means cake in Spanish. It’s also a slang term for lesbians. So. Do with that what you will). The cake is what GLaDOS offers you to lull you into the sense that she cares about you, so discovering that “the cake is a lie” wakes you up to the realization that she doesn’t. Except then the idea is subverted one last time, at the very end, showing that the cake is real and at least some of what she said she meant. 

You also see the companion cube. You know, GLaDOS’ symbolic heart?

Now, okay, you might be thinking I’m extrapolating a bit too much. And you might be right. But Portal is not the only game in the series, and if you’re asking me about Cave and Caroline you obviously know about Portal 2.

Exhibit B: Portal 2

If you thought Portal was gay, Portal 2 turns that up to 11.

Even before GLaDOS wakes up, you’re treated to some visual subtext. A few of Rattmann’s drawings representing the events of Portal 2 focus a lot on the relationship between GLaDOS and Chell, with more of the cake symbolism.

In this, you can see a face layered on top of GLaDOS. This could be foreshadowing about Caroline, and likely is, but also resembles his other drawing of Chell. It insists that Chell is a part of GLaDOS, or reinforces parallels between Chell and Caroline, hinting at something either way. 

In this picture, we also see Chell standing on top of GLaDOS, in the same position where the overlay of the feminine face was, again referencing the parallel. It also presents them as opposites, fundamental parts of the same thing and both connected to the same basis, but on opposing sides. 

When GLaDOS wakes up, she returns to her antagonistic role, but there are more hints to something deeper just like in Portal. 

Here, in her awakening lines, she references Chell not unlike an estranged ex. Also worth noting that GLaDOS is pretty much the personification of testing (in a sense, she is testing since she can control all of Aperture like an extension of her body), and insinuates that Chell loves to test. And that she reciprocates that feeling.

In test chamber 10, she says this:

It’s supposed to be threatening, but it does read as almost... sentimental. 

There’s also another chamber with companion cubes in Portal 2. I already talked about their symbolism in Portal, and the same pretty much applies to them here. However, GLaDOS says something interesting about them during this level:

Once again, meant to be intimidating, ends up coming off as “well, GLaDOS, why were you going to give Chell a heart shaped representation of yourself that says ‘I love you?’” And you might think I’m stretching the GLaDOS’ heart metaphor thing a little far here, and I might agree, if the companion cubes didn’t literally sing Cara Mia for you. 

Cara Mia is the turret opera from the end of the game, which is all about how much GLaDOS cares about Chell. More on that later. But the companion cubes play a song called Love as A Construct, and when you get close to them, they sing a specific part of the song that has the tune of Cara Mia. These things literally exist to sing about GLaDOS’ feelings. 

Which makes this line a lot more. For lack of a better term. Tsundere-ish.

Then, right before the escape, she starts talking about the confetti from her fake surprise. 

I really don’t have to explain this one. What else does GLaDOS consider an inconvenience but might miss anyway? Or, more aptly, who else?

Then, during the escape, she teases a (fake) final test chamber in front of you, and forms the panels in the shape of a heart. No, really. 

Up to this point, a lot of the points I’ve presented are interspersed with a fair amount of antagonization on GLaDOS’ behalf, more Foe Yay than anything actually hinting at something deeper than GLaDOS being conflicted about whether she loves or hates Chell. But things really ramp up after Wheatley’s betrayal, when the two of them are forced to team up. (I should also note here that “enemies to lovers” is a pretty classic queer romance trope.)

Here, GLaDOS is put on an equal level with Chell and they have to rely on each other if they want to survive. For the rest of the singleplayer campaign, GLaDOS becomes a lot nicer and even friendly to Chell. There comes a point where she starts referring to Chell as a teammate, calling them “we.” She begins to consider them one unit, two opposites unified. Here’s what she says after the lemon rant:

You can not only see her using we, but actively talking about how her and Chell are going to fight Wheatley together. There’s also that last line - “let’s explode with some dignity.” GLaDOS has fully accepted the very likely possibility that she and Chell might die together. That she might die on the same level, and the same team as Chell. And she seems... surprisingly okay with that, as long as she and Chell go together. 

It’s during the Old Aperture levels that Chell and GLaDOS also discover that they have a lot in common. This is the part of the game where GLaDOS figures out she’s Caroline, that she’s human. Or, that she’s like Chell. And Chell discovers (from what we can tell anyway) that Caroline is kind, that she’s funny and smart and so many of these things she never noticed about GLaDOS before. Now also with the knowledge she is fighting alongside another human being. 

You can also draw parallels between Chell and Caroline, both intelligent women ultimately betrayed by their seemingly innocuous male friends before being trapped in Aperture and forced to team up with one another in a way that will free both of them. We see that really, GLaDOS isn’t that different from Chell - she too has been imprisoned in this place against her will, but in a completely different way. Once again, the idea of two sides of the same coin applies here. 

I’ve written another meta about this before, but I also think the whole idea of repressing a part of your identity and hating it, before bonding with another woman and then realizing that it’s okay to be like her and to be on her side. It’s okay to be yourself and meeting her is what helps you discover this new part of yourself. Is kinda inherently gay. GLaDOS’ discovery of her own humanity just fits so well into a queer realization narrative, to me at least.

Then, Chell and GLaDOS escape Old Aperture and have to get through Wheatley’s tests. 

Here, GLaDOS isn’t just begrudgingly on Chell’s team. She’s actively helpful. She wants to help Chell solve tests, defends her from Wheatley’s insults, and makes jokes to lighten the mood. Things that can really only be explained by her caring about Chell, especially the part about the insults. See below.

After the two escape Wheatley’s testing track, right before the boss fight GLaDOS has a few other things to say.

GLaDOS is not going to betray Chell, because of some kind of conscience. But she could easily ignore that back in her body, and yet? Here she’s deciding not to, and for no good reason. She didn’t have to say that to Chell, but she did, because she cares and she wants Chell to live.

And then, moments before the fight:

The final lines imply that GLaDOS does not think of Chell as an enemy anymore, and that it doesn’t matter what Chell thinks because they are in this together and they are getting revenge together. It’s pretty heartwarming to be honest, to know that even in a fight that will almost certainly kill you, she is there rooting for you and caring about you, even if you don’t feel the same way about her. It no longer matters to GLaDOS whether you even reciprocate - you staying alive, you making it through is enough for her.

So Chell fights Wheatley and sends him into space, all well and good, and at this point, GLaDOS has the option to kill Chell. But not only does she not, she actively saves Chell, and holds her hand in the process. If you don’t believe me:

And not only that, but when Chell goes unconscious from her injuries, GLaDOS sits and waits for her to wake up. It’s also implied that GLaDOS carries her to the elevator, since it’s where she wakes up but not where she passed out. In the scene where Chell blacks out, you can also hear the part of Love As A Construct that sounds like Cara Mia. Yeah. Yeah.

If you think that this cannot possibly get any gayer, you are wrong again, because then GLaDOS makes her final speech. Which is really just a love confession, let’s be honest.

The “surge of emotion?” Do you mean love, GLaDOS? And the idea of GLaDOS considering Chell her best friend, despite everything these two have done to each other? The idea that GLaDOS, out of all people, forgives someone?

Except this isn’t even Chell’s final send-off. GLaDOS writes her an entire opera of turrets, that sing a literal love song. (Note what I said earlier about the use of the word “bambina”).

It really can’t get any more obvious than that. “My (affectionate romantic term here), my dear, I adore you.” How. Is. That. Heterosexual. In. Any. Way.

So Chell goes to the surface, set free by GLaDOS (think of the saying “if you love something, set it free), and you think that’s the end. Until GLaDOS gives you a companion cube so you aren’t alone on the journey, and from the burn marks, you know it’s your first companion cube. Her original heart, her first gift to you, a piece of her that she wants you to carry with you to remind you that she does care about you after everything. It also gives the lyrics to Still Alive a much more genuine meaning. 

Portal 2 ends, and then the ending song, another GLaDOS number plays. Just like Still Alive, Want You Gone is structurally a break up song and very obviously about GLaDOS missing Chell and “counting on” (read: caring about/loving) Chell’s tendencies and quirks. 

She’s accepted Chell completely, and yet also given Chell the one thing she wants most. Only wanting Chell gone can mean GLaDOS not wanting Chell in her life anymore, but can also mean she wants to give Chell the freedom she’s wanted for so, so long. It’s the best thing she can give.

In the co-op campaign, GLaDOS also references still caring about Chell.

And that’s the end of the Portal series. Except. Brace yourself. Despite the games being over, there is STILL more subtext somehow. It gets. Even gayer.

Exhibit C: Supplemental Evidence

Valve has made a lot of extra/cut content for the Portal series, and I’ll be looking at some of it below.

This official valentine from Valve shows GLaDOS offering a romantic partner cake, which as we’ve established before, is very symbolic of GLaDOS’ feelings about and/or relationship with Chell. 

There’s a lot of other concept art and official art that emphasizes their relationship too. See below.

There’s also some cut GLaDOS lines that are even gayer than the source material and again, sound like confessions or references to a breakup:

The idea of “discovering things about someone”... how much more obvious can it get?

The developers have even confirmed a lot of my commentary on Chell and GLaDOS’ relationship in The Final Hours Of Portal 2. See these quotes from the book/this post:

The devs literally describe it as a romance. They use terms like “cheating,” they wanted to write a romantic duet, JoCo purposefully wrote the endings like love songs. It is literally, blatantly said by the creators of the game that their relationship is interpreted romantically. By the creators of the game. 

And if Word of God confirmation isn’t enough for you, have a song written for a cut alternate ending by GLaDOS’ voice actress, Ellen McClain. The song is literally nothing but GLaDOS talking about caring about Chell, about not wanting her to die/leave GLaDOS alone, about wanting to bake a cake with Chell, about waiting for Chell to wake her up. It’s so genuinely sweet and sad, and really, really romantic in the most heartwrenching way possible. 

JoCo also came back for the Portal levels in Lego Dimensions, writing one final breakup song for GLaDOS to sing about Chell. It comes off as GLaDOS not wanting to admit she misses Chell even though she obviously does, trying to replace their relationship but failing, and even explicitly forgiving Chell/wanting her to come back.

Also, the “finally I understand,” as if only now GLaDOS understands just how deep her feelings for Chell are... What else can I say?

In Lego Dimensions, GLaDOS also outright rejects anyone who isn’t Chell.

In Conclusion:

Why do I ship Chell and GLaDOS? 

Well, ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether I ship them. 

Because I think it’s glaringly obvious Portal does.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Uncle Bob

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: G Summary: Bob Zanotto does have roots, if he'd like to reconnect to them. Lili has a plant question, and Bob's got an answer.

"Ok, see the bolt your hand is on?" Helmut asked.  

"Yes..."

"Not that one. Go left. Left. Left. More left. Less left--"

Bob looked away from the block of grease and rust that was the Feel Mobile's engine, and leveled a flat stare to the brain ball beside him.

"You mean right?" Bob said. It was hard to feel annoyed or upset with someone when you forgot how to breathe every time you remembered that they were alive, but he was  definitely  about to manage some exasperation.  

"This would be so much easier if I had hands. I could just point!"

"Helmut, if you had hands, you could do this yourself," Bob said. "Why don't you wait until we get back from Grulovia?"

"I can't wait that long! Look at the state it's in!" The ball rolled forward until it thunked gently against the side of the bus. "My baby."

"What if you got Otto to help you instead?"

"Oh no no no, not while I don't have the hands to stop him from making "improvements" while he's in there."

Bob had to give him that one.

"We can do this!" Helmut insisted, with such enthusiasm Bob couldn't help but smile. "We're a great team. Just put your hand back where it was and move it very slowly left until I say stop."  

"Hey guys!" Rescue came in the shape of Raz rounding the corner and waving. "Whatcha doin'?"

"We're fixing the Feel Mobile!"

"We are trying to fix the Feel Mobile," Bob corrected. "But I don't know anything about engines, and Helmut doesn't have hands. It's a process."

"Fortunately, I am excellent at instructions," Helmut said. "Just because I don't have eyes doesn't mean I can't see you rolling yours, Bobby."

"What brings you out to our neck of the woods?" Bob asked.

"We had a plant question," Raz said, triumphantly. There was a brief pause.   

"Is that the royal 'we', or...?" Helmut asked. 

Raz looked at the empty space at his left. He looked at the empty space at his right. He looked back up the way he came. He gave Bob a slightly embarrassed smile and held up a finger, backing away.

"Gimme one second."

Bob tossed the wrench into the tool kit and stood, a process that was a lot more involved than it used to be.

"Jeez, you sound so old," Helmut teased.

"I am old, you--" The words cut off short, caught in Bob's throat at the flash of dark pigtails zipping back behind a tree. Bob looked away, wiping his hands off on a rag, but he couldn't stop Raz's words from drifting into his ears. The kid had lowered his voice, but not low enough.

"You can't be shy, you're you. ...What? ...Why wouldn't he?"

"Bobby?" Helmut asked, softly.

"It's Truman's daughter," Bob said, gruffly, focusing very hard on getting the grease out from around his nailbeds.   

"Oh."

What must she think of him? The last time he'd seen her she wasn't even walking yet. She'd only know him as the crazy old hermit who lived on top of a thorn tower and hated everyone. Or worse, as the drunken mess who screwed up so many missions his own nephew had had to put him out to pasture before he got somebody killed--

Something bonked insistently against his ankle.

"Hey. Hey. Stop that," Helmut ordered. "You're great and she'll love you."

"But--"

Another bonk, this one so hard it actually hurt.

"You're. Great. And. She'll. Love. You."  

"Of course he'll like you! ...My psychic senses tell me so. ...It'll be fine, I promise."

Lili stepped out from behind the tree. She looked exactly like the pictures Truman had sent, minus the usual glazed look that came with a school photo. She was clutching a terracotta pot to her chest, one far too large for the sullen, drooping stalks that protruded from it.

"Hey there!" Bob said, trying to sound as cheerful and un-evil-hermit-that-lives-in-the-woods as possible. She approached slowly, but at least didn't look like she was on the verge of running away.

"Hi," she said, softly. "Um...Raz said you might be able to help me with my amaryllis. I've been trying to get it to bloom again. I let it go dormant twice, but it still won't put out any buds."

Bob reached out, and then hesitated. Lili released the pot, which floated over to Bob and hovered. Bob examined the plant, curious. He was impressed, to say the least. Second bloom or no, there weren't a lot of ten year olds who could successfully winter an amaryllis at all, let alone twice in a row.

"No fungus, no pests," he muttered. "Soil seems fine. Is it getting the right kind of light?"

"In the window, sunny and south facing," Lili said, with more confidence. "I checked the soil acidity, I used filtered water, I tried different kinds of plant foods, I tried playing music, I tried talking to it--"

"Yelling at it," Raz corrected.

"I was only yelling because talking wasn't working," Lili said, narrowing her eyes at him. Bob cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.

"Welp," Bob said. "I figured out your problem."

"You did?" Lili's eyes lit up. "What is it? What should I do?"

"You got a dud bulb," Bob said. He prodded the limp leaves, which looked like tangled green shoelaces. "You should just toss it."

"...what?"

Bob gave her a large wink, then continued loudly.

"Yep. That's amaryllis for you. They're weak, give up easy."

The leaves twitched.

"I never bothered with them, honestly. They need so much hand holding, and as for looks, well..."

"You're right," Lili said, nodding sagely. "They're just not pretty enough to justify all the work I've been putting into them. Maybe I should just dump them and grow tulips instead."

"Honestly, you're better off with roses--"

The stalks shot up, straight as arrows and quivering with indignation. Lili laughed in delight as first one, then two, then three pink bulbs swelled and unfurled into three perfect flowers.

"I can't believe that worked!" she cried.

"...did you just use reverse psychology on a plant?" Raz asked, nonplussed.

"Yep. Nothing like spite to put a little color in a flower. Amaryllises are divas," he told Lili. "You need to treat them carefully, but don't coddle them. Make 'em work for your attention." He took the pot in his hands and held it away, leaning down to mutter "And they hate roses."  

"It's a plant," Raz said, in the same tone.

"You get used to it," Helmut said.

"But it's--"

"Let it go, kid. Trust me."

Bob handed the pot to Lili and opened his mouth to ask Helmut to explain just what that was supposed to mean...

But the girl took the pot in both hands and beamed up at him with a smile like the sun, and said "Thanks Uncle Bob."

It made it very hard to think of anything to say other than 'sure thing, kiddo.'

[closhelby]

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

[sortasirius]

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season.  I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.”  It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?)  I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet.  This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that.  He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again.  This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone).  And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas.  He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean?  Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery.  It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance.  This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content.  “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying.  An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life.  And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation.  And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds.  I also wrote more in depth about this episode here.  There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape.  The most tropey of tropes mixtape.  Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas.  Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot.  The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs.  Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken.  This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13.  Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so).  So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time).  Listen.  This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from.  With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper.  Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done.  They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else.  The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow. 

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes.  They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time.  What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before.  Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.”  Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season.  Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really?  This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens).  And here’s the thing.  These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something.  Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.”  We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to.  But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen?  Who got the network to change their minds?  It wasn’t us.  It was them.  I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas.  They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step. 

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do.  Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s.  They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do.  They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show.  I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is.  He says he’s the writer, right?  But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters?  A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”?  That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going?  I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

[eulaliasims]

Check In Tag

Thanks for the tag, @pixeldolly!

Why did you choose your url?

Eulalia means ‘sweetly speaking’ or ‘well spoken’, and when I was picking my latest internet pseudonym (b/c I’m a 90s baby and grew up hearing to NEVER use your real name on the internet or you will DIE) I went for something aspirational. I’m better at writing than talking, haha. The ‘sims’ part is probably obvious.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Uhhhhh... ball pit era (2014).

Do you have a queue tag?

Naw, my queue is only set to six posts a day at the moment. I feel like I should have a tag for not queued posts, since that’s when I randomly dump a bunch of decorating pictures onto people’s dash and run away.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

Originally I made the account to follow simmers after the TS2 community on Livejournal died down; I lurked for a bit, then finally decided to share a few of my own pictures. It’s nice to be able to document my game like this and share it with other simmers.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

It’s a Picrew of myself, lol. (This one, by Poika.) I did icons with my sims for a while, but this Picrew was going around and I liked it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Why did you choose your header?

It’s Middleground, my main neighborhood, and it’s pretty. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What’s your post with the most notes?

Mmmm, it’s either going to be the natural history museum or a piece of CC--lemme check--oh wait, no, it’s the hobby lot makeover tutorial! I forgot about that. And then this shitpost, which still makes me laugh.

How many mutuals do you have?

I have no idea! Some? Y’all are definitely in the double digits, I know that much.

How many followers do you have?

I don’t know, and I don’t want to know, tbh. It’s better for the obsessive part of my brain that latches onto things like that if I keep it hidden with xKit most of the time. >_>

How many people do you follow?

345. Mostly simblrs (and a couple Mass Effect/Dragon age blogs), and I know that there’s some inactive blogs in there.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Once or twice. More often I draft them and then just delete them instead.

How often do you use tumblr each day?

If something else has my attention, zero times, otherwise I'll steal @pixeldolly‘s answer and say often enough.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

lol, no. I am one of those people who prefers to merely observe fandom drama from a safe distance--in the case of simblr drama, it usually bypasses me entirely. If it’s not on my dash, I am not aware of it.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I don’t do that.

Do you like tag games?

They’re fun. Though sometimes I skip them depending on my brain spoons/whether I remember in a timely manner that someone tagged me. I’m also terrible at tagging other people. I try to only tag people who do them, and then sometimes the game’s already made the rounds by the time I end up doing it anyway!

Do you like ask games?

^^^^ See above! I usually only reblog sims-related ones, since, well, it’s a simblr.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Is this a thing? Idk, when I think of Tumblr fame, I think of drama and, like, the person who apparently went grave robbing for bones, so I’m gonna say thankfully none of them.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I certainly have a crush on some of their games, haha!

[herherteartear]

will you be gone? | bonus : eighteen point five / brunch w Taehyung 

 — word count : 1491

 — a/n : my first ever written chapter!! how’d you like it? anything I could've done better? hope you enjoyed!

Your hands couldn’t stop shaking. Sure, you tried to play it off cool in front of your friends, but you were pissing your pants in nerves. The thought of meeting Taehyung after so long was terrifying. Your son, Myung-dae, seemed to notice the trouble you were having with the buttons on his sweater. His doe eyes blinked up at you.

“Do you need help, momma?” He asked. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You raised your hand to caress his cheek.

“No, baby, I’m okay.” You smiled. Finally getting a grip of yourself, you finished buttoning the three buttons on his sweater. You grinned proudly at your work (both your son and his outfit). Myung-dae ran off the second you were done. He threw himself onto the ground of your living room where his legos were scattered. You turned to glance at yourself in the mirror hung up.

You’ve changed a lot since Taehyung left. It was hard to adjust to abruptly becoming a single mother. It was hard to push away the fact that you had also become an ex-girlfriend too. Your broken heart and your anger was pushed to the side in order to focus on Myungie and to provide for him. At some point, it became too much. Your family and Jungkook stepped in to help. That became a turning point.

You were able to focus on yourself a little more without worrying about Myungie and his needs. Then you were finally able to feel the pain, the hurt, the anger. For a second, you really did hate Taehyung. How could he have left you with your son? How could he have left you? Thankfully, time truly does heal all wounds. As time went on, you found yourself thinking about him less, hating him less, and being happier with the little life you created for Myungie and yourself. You’d be lying if you said meeting Jimin and Seokjin didn’t help. They really helped. Seokjin helped.

Staring at the woman in front of you, you smiled.

“Does he still look the same?” “Does he have a matching mark on his arm, too?” “Will he carry me on his shoulders?” Myungie was full of questions the whole ride to the restaurant. You and Taehyung agreed to meet there in order to help Myungie feel more comfortable. With the car parked, you turned in your seat to face your son. His big, chocolate eyes never failed to warm your heart.

“You remember that?” Myungie had been so little when Taehyung left. You weren’t expecting him to remember anything about his dad, so the fact that he remembers the times his father would perch him on his broad shoulders, surprised you. Myungie played with his fingers.

“No, but I found a picture in your old room.” He mumbled. You bit your lip. After Taehyung left, you moved out of the room you two shared and into the guest room. You knew exactly which picture he was talking about.

“He does have the same two marks as you on his arm. Maybe you can ask him about it.” You said softly. You sent Taehyung a quick text to notify him of your arrival before getting yourself and Myungie out. You gripped your son’s hand in yours as you shut the car door.

“Daddy!” Myungie shouted. He let go of your hand to barrel into Taehyung’s arms. You spun around in shock to see an equally surprised Taehyung clutching your guys’ kid to his chest. Neither of you could stop the smile that spread over your faces.

“Hey, Myungie.” Taehyung mumbled into his son’s neck. He made eye contact with you. Both of you shared a small smile.

“So why’d you leave? Why come back now?” You cut right to the chase. After sitting down and ordering your food, Myung-dae had finally gotten over the high of seeing his dad. He now sat on Taehyung’s lap, fully immersed in your phone. Taehyung slightly choked on his sip of water. Myungie gave his dad a worried look before saying,

“Don’t choke.” You stifled your laughter at your son’s bluntness.

“Thanks, bud. Um, wow, getting right to it, huh?” He forced out a chuckle. You shrugged.

“I’ve waited long enough, haven’t I?” Your eyes suddenly seemed very interested by the table you were sat at. Taehyung reached over to grab your hand.

“You have.” He said in his deep voice that once made you go wild. Now, not so much. You pulled your hand out of his grasp. Taehyung cleared his throat before beginning his story. “I never told you this, but when we found out you were pregnant, I was planning on proposing. I decided not to because I didn’t want to add any more pressure on you; I figured I’d just do it after he was born.” Taehyung gently held one of Myungie’s hands. He was going to propose? You felt the air being knocked out of you. “Except, once Myungie was born, everything changed. I realized all the plans we had, we wouldn’t be able to do them anymore.”

“What? What are you talking about? Myungie could’ve come with us! Wouldn’t that have made it that much more special?” You cut in, now getting irritated. You couldn’t believe Taehyung had even felt that way. The moment Myung-Dae was born, your life got so much brighter.

“Yes, of course! But, yn, I was so dumb back then. I was dumb and selfish. I wasn’t ready to be a dad.” He sighed. Before you could even open your mouth, he said, “And I know you weren’t ready to be a mom. But you adapted better than I did. None of it felt right to me, the whole being a parent. I hated myself for feeling that way, but I couldn’t help it, y’know? Anyways, I guess my peabrain came up with leaving as a solution and, well, I did.”

Your eyes maintained on the table. The wood was slowly chipping off of the edges, but the middle still looked in wonderful shape. A part of you had known Taehyung left because he wasn’t ready so you’re not surprised. You wished he would have talked to you about it, though. You sighed. The past was in the past now. Everything happens for a reason, unfortunately.

“I know what I did was wrong. I know I should’ve come back the second I left, but I didn’t. I can’t apologize enough. But you need to know I am truly, deeply, sorry. Yn, I’ve grown from who I was. I’m here now to fix my mistake and to raise our son. Together.” Taehyung held your gaze. If there was something that never changed about Taehyung, it would be his sincerity.

“It’s been such a long time, Tae. I wish I could be angry and yell at you for leaving us, but I can’t. I know you. I know you want to fix this and I would love to raise our son together.” You felt a weight lifted from your chest. You had been living for years with baggage, that clearing this up with Taehyung, made you feel physically lighter. You cleared your throat and sat a little straighter. “But what we had, that’s gone now. I’m doing this for Myungie, not to get my ex-boyfriend back.” Taehyung didn’t lose his composure. His lips turned into a teasing smile.

“So who’s the guy?” He joked. You knew it was a joke. Taehyung was always like this, but there was a guy.

“Why does there have to be a guy in order for me not to want you back?” You squint your eyes at him. This only seemed to further his fun, as a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. You shifted.

“I was kidding, but judging by your reaction, there’s definitely a guy.” He smiled lightheartedly. You ran your eyes over his face. “Why are you analyzing me?”

“Because of the way you’ve been texting me! I thought you wanted to date again or something.” You grumbled. Had you misunderstood all his texts? There was no way! They were totally flirty!

“Y’know, when I talked to my parents about being ready, they were so excited to hear we were going to work it out. Be a family.” Taehyung laughed breathlessly. “I know I was being pushy. I just— I had to, for my parents. But I won’t force you into anything. That’d be a dick move and I would never do that.” Taehyung reassured you. You smiled. Once again, his sincerity was always unwavering.

“Daddy! Look, momma said you had these marks too!” Myungie pinched his arm fat together to make an elephant out of the two moles on his arm. Taehyung’s face burst into a boxy grin. You glanced down at your phone to see a text from Jin. Your heart skipped a beat against your will. You’d handle one issue at a time.

ceo!seokjin x singlemom!reader

masterlist

taglist : @reckless-living-optimist @overtherainbow35 @whitepinkish @beeeb05 @preciouschimine @exfolitae @lidda @ramyagovindraj @taegijns @undermyfigtree @8sjaf @samros95 @wineandionysus @casspirit0705 @littlewolfieposts @bunnykookcinnabun @nochujeonjk @unicornbabylover @betysotelo18 @minhee-tae @rjsmochii @illwritetomorrow @xserendipityx @ohmy-fandoms @lilacdreams-00 @rlynotme @taetaeworldd

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

//

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm 

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

The Portrait of Love

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader  (Reader wears a dress, but other than that no gender sign posts) 

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Requested by @iamburdened​: ‘Heart eyes when the other talks, sings, dances, argues, does literally anything especially things which others make fun of them for or find annoying’ with Pike because this baby boy deserves just the absolute best!! Cont.

Summary: When Marcus takes to you a work gala for the first time, he just expects a nice night chatting with colleagues and being proud to have his partner on his arm. He’s in truth a little bit worried that you’ll get bored hearing him talk about the latest art recoveries, truthfully, there’s nothing you enjoy more than listening to Marcus talk passionately about something. 

Notes:  Spent about 15 minutes just deciding which painting he should talk about in depth because research is important to me. Every time I write Marcus I just get this deep longing to curl up with him and express my love. 

Archiveofourown

“Hey, honey, you ready to go?” He’s straightening his tie in your hallway mirror. Marcus had been predictably early to pick you up for this FBI Gala, but he didn’t mind waiting for you to finish getting ready. It gave him time to straighten out his tie, brush off his suit jacket, and check that his beard wasn’t getting a little too wild now that he’d decided it was staying for the foreseeable future. 

The two of you hadn’t been dating long, four months at this point, and he’d never taken you to any of his work parties or events before. But, after a little bit of a pep talk consisting of talking to himself in his bathroom mirror one morning he’d decided to take that leap and invite you further into his life. Even if the possibility of getting hurt again gripped his heart with fear. 

The gala was just the usual sort, schmoozing with officials and encouraging interdepartmental cooperation. There’d be alcohol, finger foods, some music, but mostly talking. He didn’t mind them, they usually meant he got to have a chat with friends in other departments and it helped to meet new people who might be helpful on a future case. He wasn’t sure, however, if you’d enjoy yourself at all. You weren’t a big party person, preferring to stay in with him and cuddle on the sofa while watching a movie and eating take-away food, and you didn’t know many people there. Conversation would be work based and he’s not sure how riveting talking about stolen art really is in truth. But, you’d agreed and he was at least proud to know you’d be hanging off his arm tonight. He usually went to these things alone and his team were starting to tease him about this mysterious partner of his that he never brought along, not that he was trying to hide you. He just...he just didn’t want to rush things, that had been his failing in the past. 

“Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” You’re fastening the clasp of your necklace as you walk down the hall from your bedroom. When you’re greeted by silence after grabbing your bag off the sofa, you flick your eyes to Marcus. 

He’s standing stock still in the hallway, hand still gripping his tie, mouth slightly agape as his lower jaw drops just a fraction of an inch. He’s handsome, always is, but there’s something about a well cut suit and crisp white shirt that looks especially good on his broad shouldered frame. He’s even trimmed his beard, just enough to neaten it up, determined to keep it’s length after you commented on how handsome he was with it one too many times. 

“Marcus? Are you okay, baby?” 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m...I’m fine. You just..” He takes a deep breath, stilling himself. C’mon, Marcus, this is your partner for God’s sake. “You look beautiful, wow, really, really good...wow, sweetheart.” He wants to kick himself for how inelegant that was, of all the things he could say and he’s stumbling over how radiant you look, practically effervescent, some sort of ethereal being that he’s lucky enough to call his. 

The dress really does look beautiful on you, following the curvature of your body, the soft lines that he’s hugged close more often than not. He’s half tempted to just forgo the gala, grab your hand and tug you back to your bedroom where he can get lost in the shape of you. But, you’ve put so much effort into getting ready and there’s an excitement in your eyes that makes him think you might actually want to go to this thing. He’d never take that opportunity away from you. 

You laugh at him, but it doesn’t feel mean or mocking, just the sweet humoured expression of enjoyment at his words. A wide smile, the one he loves the most, twisting at the corners of your lips and crinkling the skin by your eyes. God, he loves you. He’s not ready to say it and he’s sure you’re not ready to hear it. But, he knows he loves you and this time, this time he hopes that it’ll work out. 

“Thank you, baby...you look very dashing. The picture of a handsome gentleman.” You walk up to him, hands smoothing out the lapels of his jacket, gentle touches over his shoulders, before easing his hands away from his tie and holding them in your own. The kiss you place on his lips is soft and chaste, but he can feel that warmth in the pit of his stomach, the longing for you that burns brighter whenever you’re around. 

He’s sure there’s a hint of redness to his cheeks, he always burns brighter in the face around you too. You have a way of flustering him like he’s 17 years old again and not a fully grown adult with a house, a car and a proper and responsible job. 

“C’mon, if we don’t go now we’ll be late and didn’t you say you wanted to talk to Andrews about that case you just finished up?” 

“Yeah, yeah I did.” It’s the fact that you remembered something so minute, something so miniscule that has him smiling wider at you and holding your hand as he walks you to his car. Like always he opens the door for you and helps you get in, adjusting the bottom of your dress so that it doesn’t get trapped in the door, before even thinking about getting into the car himself. He’s a gentleman and it’s the thoughtless, unthinking nature of it that makes your heart jump the most. He doesn’t do it to impress you, he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, he just...does. 

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

The gala is enjoyable, it’s not some massively energetic affair but you like that, like that it doesn’t feel too overwhelming, that you can wrap your arm through Marcus’ and not fear losing him in the crowd. That you can chat with his colleagues, get to know the team mates who tease him about you saying ‘Oh, so this is your mystery partner!’, and enjoy the soft instrumental music that plays in the background. 

Marcus practically preens every time someone compliments you on your outfit, there’s no jealousy, just pride and it amuses you to see him puff his chest out and stand a little straighter before looking over at you like you’ve got the world in the palm of your hands. You hope he sees you react in much the same way when someone compliments the cut of his suit or the trimmed beard. He’s a handsome man, a kind man, a good man, and everything about him makes you proud to say he’s yours even if you’re only four months into your relationship.

You’re just nibbling on some small pastries of some kind when a booming voice calls over the other people, many of whom turn to look before rolling their eyes as if they should have expected it. 

“Pike! How’re you doing?” The man in question is older than Marcus by quite a few years, coiled grey hair and a warm smile on his face as he grabs Marcus’ free hand in a friendly shake. 

“Hey, Andrews, not too bad, yourself?” It’s clear from the smile on Marcus’ face that he likes this man, but having heard him talk about Andrews in passing you knew the two were something of work buddies despite being in completely different departments. 

“Oh, well given the amount of complimentary booze I’ve been throwing back, pretty good!” 

“Andrews, this is my partner, Y/N.” 

“Y/N, this is David Andrews he works in the Behaviour Analysis Unit.” Marcus introduces you to him, with an arm around your waist pulling you tight against him. The smile that beams down at you is nothing if not bright and proud to introduce you to his friend and you can’t help but smile back with similar ardor. 

“Should I be worried that you’ll psychoanalyse me?” 

“I’m a gentleman, Y/N, I’d never profile and tell.” It’s said with a wink, but that sort that’s more humour than flirtation. It puts you at ease and makes him seem more approachable. Unlike, some of the people you’d met tonight who were a bit stiffer in personality and harder to relax around. 

“So Marcus, about that last case you mentioned? A Klimt?” You know Marcus has been dying to talk about the case too, always on the verge of bringing it up before telling you that he’s sure you don’t want to hear about it. He always ends up stopping himself and every time something distracts you from forcing the issue because there is nothing boring about Marcus’ work or anything he’s passionate about. 

“You really want to know?”

“You know you’re the only one who’ll talk to me about art! Even my wife gets bored of hearing me talk about art and behaviour analysts are more interested in serial killers and their mummy issues!” David Andrews is a warm man and you settle yourself comfortably against Marcus’ side knowing he’s about to finally talk about his most recent case of art theft. You’re not an expert on art, not in the slightest and you’d never call it your calling in life or your major passion, but anything that gets Marcus to talk passionately is something you are enthralled by. 

“The Portrait of Adele Bloche-Bauer I, this rich guy bought it a couple years back for $135 million dollars. Big money, big painting, and pretty interesting history too. You know it was stolen by the Nazis during World War Two? Adele had asked her husband in her will to donate the Klimt paintings to the Austrian State Gallery when he died. When the Nazis took over Austria, he had to flee to Switzerland and leave them behind. The Nazis confiscated them and it in 1941.” 

You’re sure there are proverbial hearts in your eyes as you watch him, neck craning. His free hand moves as he talks, gesturing with each word and there’s a sparkle in his brown eyes when he talks about art, any art. Even art that he hates he talks about so passionately that you can’t help but enjoy anything he says. You lean your cheek on his shoulder as he talks and you’re sure it’s obvious in that moment how deeply in love you already are, even this early into your relationship.

“Now, this is a painting that’s over 100 years old, early 20th century, commissioned by a Jewish Banker, owned by a Jewish Banker and stolen by Nazis. The granddaughter won a legal suit to get the painting back and then sold it the exact same year.” 

David’s listening to Marcus, he really is, but he’s also watching you. If there was ever a time when the expression ‘like sun shines out of his ass’ applied then it was now. You were so clearly in love with Marcus, the soft crinkle of your eyes as you listened to him, the way you wrapped both arms around his waist, the attentive way you listened. You weren’t fawning over him to distract him, you were fawning over him because you enjoyed listening to him. It made the older man smile, Marcus had had it rough and it was clear he was finally on to a winner in the relationship department. He briefly considers starting a betting pool on when Marcus will propose or if you’ll beat him to the punch. Now that would be a surprise. 

“So this guy is sitting on this painting, he’s got it up in a gallery and it’s a Klimt, so you can imagine...It’s one of his last ‘golden phase’ paintings so all that gold has people flock to it and it’s a pricey painting too! Now we get a call a few months back saying it’s been stolen and it becomes a wild goose chase from there…” He’s too enthused with the art to really think about whether he’s boring you. It had been one of the most beautiful paintings he’d ever managed to recover and had he been dating you officially at the time he probably would have broken a few rules to let you see it. 

The night continues much like that. Marcus tells you and those around you about the cases he’s recently done, the paintings and sculptures he and his team had recovered and the history behind them. His knowledge was bolstered by an Art History degree and personal interest and research. While he does this you spend your time listening, genuinely interested in all the knowledge he displays, curled as close to him as you can be at a formal party, and staring at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky. 

It’s not hard to stare at him like that. In the few months you’d been dating he had proven to be a wonderful boyfriend, the perfect partner. While he had expressed a desire to move slowly because of past failed relationships and clearly had reservations about how far to go with you, what to say, what to withhold, and what was okay and not, he was nothing but loving. He respected you greatly, something easy to see with every action he took and every word he said. He always made sure you were okay with a course of action, asked your opinion regularly and listened when you had something to say. The few times you’d raised issues in your relationship he’d listened and so had you, the two of you working through the teething problems together to come out the other side better and stronger. He was unfailingly kind and considerate to you, there was never a day he didn’t compliment you or send you a good morning text, in return you always let him know you got home safe from work and told him how wonderful he was. He made sure you were okay when you were feeling sick or under the weather, always popping round after a long day of work to care for you. He never made you feel bad for a single thing you did for him, like the time you brought him flowers, nervous he’d hate them because your past boyfriends had been less receptive to the thought of them. He always held doors open for you and offered to carry your bag if it was heavy. He always made sure to leave you with a smile on your lips and never made you feel silly when you were upset or panicked. 

He had proven to be a wonderful person and wonderful boyfriend all on top of being so incredibly handsome that you wondered how you’d lucked out to find a man who was quite literally the whole package. If there was ever a man who screamed ‘I’m husband material, take me home to meet your entire family’, it was Marcus. He was mature, responsible, safe, and comforting. He wasn’t boring either, the whole concept of safe as a boring baffled you. There was nothing better than knowing you could rely on Marcus, that if he said he’d be somewhere he would, if he said he would do something then he would, that if he made a mistake or messed up he’d own it and apologise for it, that you could discuss problems and figure them out together. He made it all seem so easy and simple, he made the effort and the energy you put in worth it because it was appreciated and returned in equal measure. You never had to baby him or mother him, he was an adult who could look after himself. 

“Did you have a good time, honey? I know I talked a lot...hope you weren’t bored?” It’s asked as your hands are clasped swinging between the two of you on the walk back to his car, footsteps echoing around the quiet car park.

You lean your head on his shoulder, turning your cheek to press a quick kiss there even though he can’t feel it through the layers of clothing. “I had the best time...I love listening to you talk, baby, I don’t think you could ever bore me.” You want him to believe you, to be confident in that. The hesitation to talk to you about his interests bothers you because you love him and his passions, because you don’t want him to ever doubt your desire to listen. 

You pull him to a stop, both hands now holding one of his, forcing him to stop and look at you with raised eyebrows and a bemused smile. “I love listening to you talk about the things you’re passionate about, Marcus. Don’t hide it from me. Please.”

“You...you mean that?”

“Yes, I really mean it!” You say it with a laugh on your lips because how could you not love listening to him talk about the things he loves the most, the things he’s interested in. He had said on multiple occasions how much he loved hearing you talk about your interests, so why was it so hard for him to understand that you felt the same way. 

There’s something blinding to him about your smile in that moment, about the realisation that you actually want to listen to him, that you enjoy listening to him, that his love of Art history, something that his past partners have had little to no interest in, is something you want to hear about. From him. It...it stuns him a little bit in the best sort of way and for a minute he thinks maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe his ex-wife, Teresa, all of it was supposed to happen to bring him to you. Where he was supposed to be. 

He kisses you because he can’t bring himself to say he loves you yet. He’s scared if he says it, this magic feeling, this peaceful place you’ve found yourselves in will shatter like a dropped mirror. So, the love he feels for you, he pours into a kiss, arms wrapping tightly around you, a hand cupping the base of your head. You open your mouth to his without a second thought, your hands trailing up over his arms and shoulders before diving into dark brown hair that had been combed neatly for the evening. Kissing him always brings a warmth to your chest, a sort of ache that makes you want to cry happy tears. There is something so safe and welcoming about his embrace, something so warming about the gentle slide of tongue against yours and the press of his nose into your cheek. It’s all consuming, all you can think about is his touch, his smell, his presence, his warmth. The outside world fades away and only Marcus exists. 

“Can I take you home, Honey?” A large palm slips down low on your back as you pull away from each other, Marcus’ nose grazing against yours with a cheeky little smile and a familiar twinkle in his eye that means trouble.

“Only if you stay.” The twitch of one eyebrow and lopsided grin tell you you’re on the same page as you rush to his car like naughty children about to get in trouble and not fully grown adults. 

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

He’s grabbing some shitty coffee from the little kitchenette on his floor the day after the gala, feeling like his heads too fuzzy after a late night with you and the horrible event that was forcing himself out of a warm bed next to a warm body, when David walks by and spots him. 

Marcus is sure he probably looks as grumpy as he feels, he just...he really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Not with you there all warm, gentle and soft. Bedhead everywhere and a little, little pool of drool underneath your arm, not that he’d tell you about that. It’s easy to get up at his place when he’s alone, there’s no one drawing him back, no warmth calling to him.

“So, how’s the partner? Still hanging on your every word?” The grin of David’s face spells trouble, the sort of trouble that usually ends with Marcus bright red in the face and feeling less put together than he should be as head of a department in the FBI. 

“What are you talking about?” The words confuse him...separately and individually they make sense. He knows David’s talking about you, who he left in your bed at 5am this morning to come into work early for a meeting. He knows he’s referring to something but not quite what, something to do with words and...and...did he miss something? He feels like he’s missed a whole chunk of a conversation. Marcus decides it’s far too early for this, especially after a long meeting that didn’t get anywhere. 

“Last night.”

“What about last night?” He’s definitely putting more sugar than is healthy in his coffee this morning, mostly to combat the bitter fatigue and maybe the short sugar buzz would make his brain understand what the hell David Andrews was talking about. Though that seemed less likely by the second, maybe he’d call you later...you might know what he was getting at. 

“Y/N, you did notice right?” The look he gives Marcus can only be described as shock turning to hilarity, as if Marcus had missed out on some obvious punchline to a joke. For a minute he wonders if he’s fucked up again...have...do you not like him anymore? Was this David’s way of warning him that he’d seen something in your face last night that spelled the end of his relationship? “Wait, you don’t...kid, you’re not seriously telling me you’re that blind?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, David.” He’s getting a little frustrated at this point. Usually not quick to get angry or annoyed, the thought that maybe you’d given some sign that you were ready to end their relationship was making him more irritable than normal. While he’d accept it if that was the case, he’s not sure his heart would survive another knockout in the love ring. 

“The heart eyes Y/N was giving you all night? Hanging on every word you had to say about art? Looking at you like you hung the moon? Not leaving your side for more than a few minutes at a time? Y/N’s in love with you, kid.” The grin on David’s face is so wide that all of his shiny white teeth appear blinding. There’s a panic that begins to grip Marcus’ heart, an instinctive reaction to the pace at which everything suddenly feels like it’s happening.

Once upon a time he would have enjoyed the rush, ran head first into it, but after too many failed relationships, rushed seemed scary, fast was too much. It was too soon, you’d been dating four months, you couldn’t possibly love him. Sure, he loved you but...but he always fell in headfirst, too quickly

“No...no...I mean...it’s too soon, right? We’ve only been dating a few months and...and…” He thinks back to Teresa, their quick, fast paced romance, the ultimate end when she left him for another man. About his ex-wife, how they’d rushed into marriage young, how it hadn’t been enough to keep her attention, he hadn’t been enough. Then he thinks of you. Of your smiling face, the softness with which you trace your fingertips over his shoulders when he stays the night, the way you laugh at all his jokes even the bad one’s...how you said you enjoyed hearing him talk about his passions last night.

“Look, just because you’ve been burnt before doesn’t mean you’re going to get burnt now. Pike, I've seen love and that was love in Y/N’s eyes. Not attraction, not like, not a crush, love. Maybe you’ve finally found someone going at your speed? Think about it.” 

He does. Think about it, that is. Takes his coffee back to his office and sits there for ages not looking at the files on his desk or the case work he has to get done, just thinking about you. He can’t really stop himself when he picks up the phone and dials your work number, knowing that you’ll answer, assuming something’s wrong most likely. 

“Marcus? Are you okay? Is everything alright?” You’re worried and that worry adds to the pounding of his heart, the ache in his chest. You worry about him. You care about him. You barely let the phone ring before picking it up. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay, honey...I just…” His eyes drift to the paper weight on his desk, the one shaped like Michelangelo’s David, that you’d bought him on a trip to an Art Gallery. It reminded him of you whenever he looked at it. His free hand scratches across his beard as he leans more comfortably back in his chair. 

“Did...did something happen? Baby, are you…? You don’t sound okay?” You’re worried. Marcus doesn’t just call you in the middle of a work day, not unless something has happened. Despite his words he seems off, not his usual self and there’s an anxiety that fills your chest at the thought that something isn’t right, something isn’t like it normally is. 

“I’m great I just...I wanted to say I love you. I don’t say it enough...or at all.” He bites the bullet, knows it’ll come out at some point because he very rarely has any sense of patience. He knows the moment David said you might love him, he was a goner, he wasn’t going to be able to contain his own feelings. Because he loves you. Loves you so much that it’s hard on a morning when he actually wakes up beside you not to tell you he loves you. It’s hard not to say it when he leaves for work or when he phones during a rough case. 

There’s a pause on your end. He can hear your shaky breathing, the quick inhale of breath at his words. He has to close his eyes tight, just for a second, just to swallow down the feeling of nausea in his stomach at the thought that you might be about to tell him to take a hike. 

“You...you love me? Really?” It’s said with a happy little laugh in your voice, the sort that comes from awe, shock, an unexpected happiness that fills your chest. You can see some of your colleagues looking at you funny from the corner of your eye, but don’t really care in that moment. 

“Yeah, honey, I love you. So much. I just...it’s okay if you don’t want to say it, I...I don’t want to rush you or ruin what we have.” 

“Marcus, how could telling me you love me ever ruin what we have? God, baby, I love you too. So much, so so much!” 

He can’t help but laugh, it’s the relieved sort of laugh. You can hear the happiness in the breathy chuckle, can feel a few tears coming to your eyes because he loves you and you love him. Nothing could be better than that, then this feeling. 

The two of you stay on the phone for longer than you should considering you’re both at work, but in that moment, revelling in the happiness that only comes from sharing a declaration of love and receiving that love returned, you can’t find it within yourself to care. 

[pappydaddy]

Make-up (s.h.)

  A/N: I am finally being able to start writing more (slowly but surely)! This is a request sent in by the lovely @secretjellyfishpolice​ (I love your profile pic by the way lovely!!). I love writing Steve x Henderson!reader stuff purely because I love Dustin and Steve’s relationship! This might be a little short, but I just thought it should end there, felt like it would be better. Sidenote: I had absolutely no idea what to name this... So, thank you so much for your request and I hope you like it💛!

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

warnings: fluff. good dustin and steve content. slightly suggestive, mentions of sex. 

- not my gif -

  For as long as Y/N could remember, her dream was to go to Cosmetology school to learn how to professionally do make-up. Her mother always told stories of how Y/N just couldn’t stay out of her make-up when she was a baby. Unfortunately, her mother told those stories to everyone who would give her the time-of-day to tell the said stories. No matter how embarrassing the stories and the pictures that came along with the stories were, they helped Y/N realize what she wanted to do with her life after high school.  

  When the day came that her mother had yet again pulled out the photo album loaded with the embarrassing photos to show Y/N’s now (much more) serious boyfriend Steve Harrington, she had decided to finally take the plunge and apply for the Cosmetology school a thirty-minute commute away. It was in the city, sure, but it was very prestigious and close enough for her to still live at home if she managed to get accepted. Steve was the ever-loving boyfriend through the entire application process, offering to help hold the light so she could take the required photos of her make-up skills (that she had used her mother as a model for) to send with her application. But his support didn’t end there. 

  “I am sure your acceptance letter is on its way right now, stop pacing and come sit down,” Steve tried to calm his pacing girlfriend down as she just about wore a path in the carpet in front of the door. “Come on, Sunshine, I bet your legs are exhausted from all that walking back and forth.” He spoke as he patted the couch cushion beside him. 

  She stopped her pacing, looking up at him as she wrung her hands together. “I’m too nervous to sit,” She shook her head, resuming her pacing. Steve remained silent, simply looking at her. He knew her, he knew that in any given moment she would rush over to the couch and worry from sitting down. Sure enough, with a final over-dramatic one-eighty whirl, she scampered to the couch. Sitting on her knees, she completely faced Steve with her eyes wide. “Why do you think it’s taking so long? It should have arrived by now, shouldn’t it have? Maybe they are trying to figure out the best way to let me down? That’s probably why it’s taking so long! They are trying to tell me that I suck without making me want to run through a wall-” 

  “Y/N, darling. You know how the postal service is in Hawkins, it’s complete shit! It’s probably sitting in a mailbag attached to some mailman taking yet another forty-minute coffee break and talking about everyone behind their back with the other mailmen that should be working.” Steve rambled, resting one of his hands on hers, shifting to prop one leg up and face her. His elbow propped up on the back of the couch, resting the side of his head against his closed fist.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” She sighed, slumping back slightly as she relaxed. Steve once again watched her, knowing that her mind was still racing and that it wouldn’t stop until she held that letter in her hand. She suddenly stiffened up again, sitting up straight as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Steve wasn’t startled by the sudden action, only blinking and trying to hold back his smile. She was too cute in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean they don’t think I suck though.” 

  “They don’t think you suck,” Steve reassured her gently. “And if they do, they are clearly blind since you are the best damn make-up artist ever. Seriously, I am always amazed. You work wonders.” He praised her, boosting her confidence. She smiled at him, her body finally relaxing to the point where Steve knew that she would be relaxed for at least a few minutes. That was until she spotted the mail carrier walking towards the mailbox from the window. 

  “He’s here!” She jumped out, this time scaring Steve out of his mind, He jumped in his spot, his hand flying up to his chest in an attempt to calm his wildly beating heart. Taking deep breaths, Steve stood from the couch. 

  “Give the man a chance to get to the mailbox before you trample him.” Steve told her, watching the man lazily shift through the disorganized mail. Y/N surprisingly listened to him, dancing around on her tiptoes to try and peer out one of the three triangle-shaped windows at the top of her door. 

  “Is he gone yet,” She asked, rolling back down to her flat feet, unable to see out the windows. Steve shook his head, stretching his arms and legs as he watched the man add envelopes to the mailbox one by one. “God,” She let out a dramatic groan, slumping her shoulders over. “What is taking him so damn long?” 

  “By the looks of things, he decided to skip the part where he pre-sort the mail,” Steve observed. “There, he’s done-” He didn’t even get to finish his statement before she yanked the door open and took off down the driveway, not even caring that she was running into the crisp air of late August in her thin socks. “You could have at least put shoes on!” He called after her, standing in the open door. 

  “I got it! I got it! It’s here!” She ignored him, smashing the mailbox door closed before racing back up the driveway, nearly bowling Steve over to get back into the house. Steve kicked the door closed, following her back into the living room. She threw the other mail on the coffee table, not caring about the assortment of bills and junk mail. Steve settled back on the couch, his knee bouncing as he waited impatiently for her to open the letter she inspected with awe. 

  “Well, come on, don’t leave a guy hanging here,” Steve spoke up after he watched her flip the envelope for the second time. “Open it and see if you got in!” 

  She followed his instructions, using the letter opener she had placed on the coffee table weeks ago to tear along the fold of the envelope. Her nerves were overridden with impatience as she pulled the tri-folded paper out. The empty envelope fluttered to the carpeted floor by her feet, but she paid it no mind, too busy unfolding the letter. “I got in!” She screamed, turning to Steve, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped in shock.

  “You got in!” He yelled back, shooting up from the couch once again, his arms open wide, his eyes just as bright and excited as Y/N’s. 

  “I got in!” She repeated, stepping onto the coffee table before launching herself into Steve’s arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. The force of her body flinging towards him knocked him off balance enough to send him falling back to the couch. His head lulled to rest on the back of the couch, his eyes set on the excited girl still clinging to him, the corner of the letter digging into the back of his neck little, but he didn’t mind. 

  “I told you that you would!” He reminded her. She pulled her head from his neck, peering down at him with sparkling eyes, he assumed it was from the excitement of getting into her dream school, but he didn’t know it was because of all the love she felt for him. 

  “You did, didn’t you?” She asked, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She was beyond thankful that she had managed to find someone that believed in her even when she didn’t believe in herself. 

  “Just to prove how proud I am of you, I will gladly loan my face to you for practice anytime,” He suggested, tapping her nose. She scrunched it up, pulling away from his finger. “All you have to do is ask.”

____

  Steve did mean his words with his whole heart, but when a few weeks passed without her taking him up, he had thought she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until two weeks before she started school that he was proven wrong. “Steve!” She called in a sing-song voice, skipping through the house in search of her boyfriend. Her shopping bag swung by her side as she skipped through her living room into her room. Instantly, she spotted Steve laying on her bed on his back, tossing a slinky back and forth, giggling lightly to himself at the noise it made. 

  “What’s up, Sunshine,” He asked, not taking his eyes off the metal slinky, still pushing it back and forth. She hopped onto the bed, causing her and him to bounce. Dropping the bag between him and the slinky, she obscured his view as she practically vibrated with excitement. He oohed at the bag, not seeing the label on the other side of it. “Did you go to the naughty store to get me a present?” 

  She scoffed as he sat up, moving to dive his hands into the bag, thinking that was exactly what she had done. “You wish,” She commented, flipping the bag around so that he could see the store logo. He pouted in disappointment when he realized that it wasn’t from the dirty store. “I had to go get some supplies for school because they want us to get used to these specific products before the first day.” 

  “Okay?” Steve questioned, looking into the bag. He saw a bunch of make-up products that he wouldn’t even try to figure out what they were. Y/N had tried to explain the different things, but he just could not get the hang of it. 

  “Well, I can’t possibly get used to them without a model,” She pointed out, snatching the bag back from him. “You told me that I could use your face, all I had to do was as and this is me asking.” She bounced on her knees, her hands pressing against Steve’s side to shake him lightly. 

  “I did say that and I always stay true to my word,” He agreed, smiling as she clapped happily, cheering. She scrambled off the bed and over to her desk. “But I am really disappointed you didn’t go to the dirty store.” He added in, standing from her bed and plopping himself in her vanity chair, the slinky still in his hand. She plucked the slinky out of his hand, tossing it to the bed before resuming to unpack her make-up. 

  “If you behave, maybe we can go together tomorrow.” She bargained, clipping his hair back from his face. He nodded eagerly, making her laugh as she reached behind her for some primer. 

  “Make sure you match to my skin tone,” He reminded her his eyes fluttering closed as she started to apply the primer. It was almost like he could see the look she gave him when he added a quick ‘just making sure’ behind it. Shaking her head, she set to work on the base of his face. 

____

  “I am surprised that you’ve sat still enough for this long.” Y/N voiced her amazement, her eyes zeroed in on his eyelids as she swept the pigmented pink eyeshadow over it, carefully putting it in the right spot. Steve scoffed, trying his best not to move too much. 

  “You have no faith in me.” He muttered sarcastically. He was even surprised that he had sat for this long without getting antsy. Maybe it was because she had let him rest his hands on her waist as she worked, maybe it was just that he wanted to help her in any way he could, but it was probably the promise of going to the dirty store that kept him so still. Either way, they were both utterly shocked. 

  “Not true, I have lots of faith in you,” She corrected, moving to the next eyelid to cover that in pink. “I leave you alone with faith that you won’t burn my house down,” She pointed out, her eyes nearly crossing from how hard she was focusing. “I also leave you alone with my brother with faith that you won’t kill him, though both times he could have been killed, you were almost killed instead so-” 

  “Yeah, but was Dustin in danger?” He perked an eyebrow in question. She gave him a look. 

  “Last time I checked, trying to not be killed by Demo-dogs, Billy Hargrove, Russians, and a Giant Flesh Spider is classified as dangerous. So yes.” She pressed her lips together, twisting around to grab another eyeshadow brush, collecting some pigmented blue eyeshadow on it. 

  “But he didn’t die.” 

  “True,” She started, brushing some blue in the outer corner and crease expertly. “But you almost died instead, so I don’t think that pleads your case.” She jumped to the next eye, trying to get it the exact same as the other one. She leaned back, inspecting the blue powder on both, adding more to the second one. 

  “What’s the third colour you want?” She asked, unable to pick the next colour for his eyes. 

  “Purple.” He blurted out, not even sure that the other two colours were. 

  “Purple it is then,” She shrugged, plucking yet another brush off the table beside her, coating the end with purple eyeshadow, placing it in the inner corner gently. Steve scrunched his nose up as it tickled lightly. “Sorry,” She whispered, too focused on trying to perfect it. “You know, I didn’t think these three colours would look good together for an eyeshadow look, but I am pleasantly surprised,” She spoke as she started the other eye. “Once I blend it, it’ll look better too.” 

  “Remember, make me look good,” His warm breath fanned over her wrist as she put the final stroke of eyeshadow on. Grabbing yet another brush to blend the eyeshadow. “Dear God, how many brushes do you need?” He questioned, feeling the new brush swirling over his eyelids, making them flutter. 

  “A lot, now keep your eyes closed or you’re gonna mess it up,” She exclaimed, moving to the next eye. Steve remained silent, fighting to keep his eyelids closed. “Now, lipstick, mascara then I am done! You want pink or red? Pink might look better with your eye make-up.” She trailed off, looking at the two tubes of lipstick. 

  “Pink.” He chose, his eyes staying closed.

  “You can open your eyes now, you Doofus,” She giggled, uncapping the lipstick and twisting it up. The creamy lipstick smeared onto his lips easily, taking no time at all. “Now, you need to keep your eyes open for this or it’ll mess this all up, okay?” She instructed, putting on the lipstick and grabbing the tube of mascara. Steve nodded, watching her intently. He visibly gulped when she pulled the wand out and brought it to his eye. 

  “Woah, woah, woah,” He panicked, leaning away from it in fear. “What the hell are you going to do with that?” He pointed to the black-coated wand. Y/N glanced down at it, shrugging as if it was nothing to be scared of. 

  “Put it on your eyelashes,” She told him, looking back at him. Her hand gripped the back of his head, keeping it in place as she brought the wand closer. “Stop being such a baby, it’s not going to hurt! I do this to myself all the time!” She struggled to keep his head in place, finally touching the wand to his already luscious lashes.

  Just as she went to do his other eye, her door burst open to reveal Dustin standing there. The couple jumped, snapping their heads to look, the wand still raised in the air, and Y/N’s hand still on the back of Steve’s head. Dustin looked between Y/N and Steve, his eyes stitching together in question. “Did I just walk into some weird sex thing,” Dustin posed the question before squeezing his eyes closed and frantically shaking his head. “You know what, don’t answer that please?” He pleaded, opening his eyes to look at the couple again. 

  “It’s not a sex thing, it’s a make-up thing. Steve offered me his face to work on,” She clarified, turning Steve’s head back to face her. Whisking the wand on his eyelashes, she spoke to Dustin. “What do you need Dustin?” 

  “I honestly can’t remember now that I walked in on this.” He gestured to the scene in front of him, trying to hold in his laughter as he looked at Steve all made up. 

  “Stop laughing!” Steve cried in protest, his eyes tearing up slightly as Y/N fanned his eyes to make the mascara dry, her other hand placing the now capped mascara on her vanity. Dustin couldn’t help but let out a barking laugh at the comment. 

  “Yeah, stop laughing Dustin.” 

  “I’m sorry, but do you really expect me not to laugh at Steve with make-up on?”  

  “Yes, because A, make up doesn’t have a gender, and B, I think a man who is in touch with his faminine side is very sexy - so do a lot of girls, you should take notes from Steve for when Suzie finally comes to meet us.” She listed unclipping Steve’s hair from his face. 

  “Yeah, Twerp.” Steve stuck his tongue out at the teen. 

  “Real mature, Harrington, real mature,” Dustin narrowed his eyes at Steve. “I am ordering a pizza and I expect you guys to pay since you’ll end up eating most of it.” With that, he turned on his heel, marching down the hall. Y/N huffed out as he left the door wide open. 

  “You know what it is,” Y/N turned to look at Steve, pointing to the open door that Dustin was just standing in. “This attitude is all because his teeth are starting to grow in.” They both hummed at this, agreeing. 

“Can I take this off now?” Steve asked, interrupting Y/N as she worked to put everything away. Looking behind her, she saw the glammed-up Steve blinking back at her. Furrowing her eyebrows, she put her brushes back in the spray-painted mason jar she kept them in, slipping her new eyeshadow pallet in the drawer with the rest of her make-up. 

  “Why, don’t you like it?” She asked, worried that he didn’t like the idea of having make-up on (which would be fine). Steve shook his head frantically. 

  “No, no! I do like it, I love it even, but, uh,” His nose twitched weirdly, making her eyebrows furrow even more. “It’s just my nose is itchy and I don’t want to ruin it, also, I am weirdly warm right now,” He gushed, his face scrunching up as he tried to survive the itch on his nose. “I have no idea how you guys wear this all the damn time, honestly.” He muttered in awe. 

  Y/N laughed, tossing him the package of make-up wipes. “Here you go.” She chuckled, sitting down on her bed, sliding a magazine off her nightstand table to read. 

  “I look damn good though, I almost don’t want to take it off, but I can’t take this itch anymore!” He exclaimed, scrubbing at his face with a wipe. Y/N peeked over her magazine at him, watching as he leaned close to the mirror, working hard to rid his face of the perfectly applied make-up. Glancing at the clock, she hummed, a smirk on her face. 

  “Hey, Steve,” She sat her magazine on the bed beside her. Steve hummed, working on the eye make-up just like he had watched Y/N do countless times before. She bit her lip, trying to stop the sneaky smile stretching onto her face. “As a thank you for doing this for me, I think I should give you something in return,” She paused, scooting to the foot of her bed. “How about we go to the dirty store today instead of tomorrow? We’ve got the house to ourselves after Dustin goes over to Mike’s for an overnight campaign.” She said with a suggestive tone. 

  Steve snapped his head to looked at her so fast, she was sure he’d be feeling the whiplash soon. “Really?” He asked with wide, excited eyes, a multitude of colours smudged around the from the eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner. She nodded, giggling at his excitement. 

  “Really! The store doesn’t close until nine and it’s five now, so hurry up, we can go after we drop Dustin off.” Steve started madly. 

  “Hey, Dustin, how about we give you money for pizza and drop you off early at Mike’s,” Steve yelled, still scrubbing at his face. “I guess he was right, this was a weird sex thing.” He commented, dropping the used wipe in the garbage by her vanity. 

  “It wasn’t a weird sex thing!” She defended weakly.