Tumblr dashboard in Night Vale simulator
🧪homo-genius
Today's science fact:
Spiders have an open blood circulation system, which means they do not have veins and their blood is different from the blood of mammals. Unfortunately many healthcare professionals do not know this, which can lead to improper methods in...
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🎙️voice_of_night_vale
Spiders are a valuable part of our community and deserve good healthcare.
But more importantly, I want everyone to know that Carlos the Scientist made this post, he is my husband and I love him very much! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
🪬a-thousand-fingernails Follow
Cecil everyone knows you and Carlos are married and most of us are happy for you but you don't need to tell this in every post you make
🎙️voice_of_night_vale
Wait have I mentioned it before?
809 notes
⭐sheriffofallarts
Hah saw some loser (@ marble-eyes) bring the same girl (@ mountainbeliever343 I think, couldn't see her face clearly from the cameras) home for the third time this week lol
cmon just say you are girlfriends already dont be shy
💎marble-eyes Follow
Hey you can't just share private information like that!! And besides that is not true, I haven't brought anyone home for a long time, I don't have time for that anymore!!!
🟡secretly-in-your-home
No. I can confirm that what Sam said is true. I was there. I am always there. Also, I put the rest of your cereal to your washing machine. They have been in the cupboard for a while now, I thought they were getting quite dusty and needed cleaning.
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🏀basketballpalmer Follow
We had an another great season with @nvwheelchairbasketball team again! Thank you everyone, it's an honor to be the captain of the team! See you guys next season <3
👍wallabyyy Follow
Aaaaa congratulations! I miss you guyssss
43 notes
☀️prophet-of-smiling-god
I just had the most delightful date with the most gorgeous theologist in Desert Bluffs Too!!! We had a lovely dinner at my house (some eyeball salad, mushed tarantulas and fried human fingers), watched some movies and of course made sure to serve our great Smiling God by making each other as happy as possible!! Unfortunately Charles said that it would make him unhappy if I shared the details, but I can confidently say that I have never been more joyful!!
🦷smiling-mayor Follow
Kevin, you missed a service in the Temple of Joy because of this. Surely you would remember doing that for an old friend, wouldn't you? 😊
☀️prophet-of-smiling-god
Oh, Lauren, of course I wouldn't ignore anything like that on purpose, you know how much I love tolerating you!!
98 notes
🪽not-an-angel Follow
Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?
You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link
🌟erikaaaaaaa Follow
Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?
You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link
💵ex-vanston Follow
Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?
You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link
💡erika-the-black-one Follow
Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?
You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link
3 notes
😎violentfootstool-deactivated20230416
Hey guys, so I just spoke to the new scientist lady and found out I don't actually have three pairs of arms. The lower two were just robot limbs that I tried out when I was seven years old and forgot to take them off. So hows your day ://
🔬janet-lubelle
I am always happy to help with explaining your problems away.
🎀tinfoilforteeth
Hey bitch how is it going under the cow
754 notes
🎙️voice-of-night-vale
Alright, I'm going to say it. Steve Carlsberg does NOT know how to be a basketball coach. He knows nothing about any game structures, and he only allows one ball per game!! He talks too loud, except when you can't hear him. It will be ALL HIS FAULT if we end up losing this season!!!!!
🌠lines-in-the-sky Follow
:(
🎙️voice-of-night-vale
For everyone who finds this post now: I made this many years ago. Things have changed a lot. I'm very sorry, Steve. I couldn't hope for a better brother-in-law. You are my best friend, and I was the irrational one in this situation.
I have changed the way I look at people. I will not treat them the same way I used to treat Steve anymore.
1,642 notes
🎙️voice-of-night-vale
Alright, who let Susan Willman be in charge of anything? She is the absolute worst at making desicions, like, who asks an obelisk its NAME? She had an oppoturnity to ask almost anything, and that's what she chose?? She better stay away from our way for at least seven decades, and keep her "Huntokar"-nonsense with herself!!!
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hot or cold?
pairing: mingyu x gn!reader
tropes: established relationship
genre: fluff!!
synopsis: when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…
noteworthy: mention of marriage, this is so cute i’m sick to my stomach, if you recognise this premise from reddit no u don’t
word count: 1.1k
“what do you mean you can’t find the confirmation?”
“it means that i can’t find the stupid confirmation,” mingyu grumbles, continuously (and furiously) typing away on his phone, frantically looking for the reservation confirmation mail from that super exclusive, fancy restaurant you’re supposed to eat at tomorrow.
well, you’re convinced it’s tomorrow, mingyu says it’s today. which is why he was so utterly flabbergasted when he came home, new shiny suit and all, wanting to pick you up.
only for you to greet him in sweatpants and one of his old shirts. and as much as he loves seeing you all comfy, he couldn’t help freaking out on you a little bit.
“what the fuck are you wearing?” his hands are on your shoulders, eyes boring into yours. you cock your head to the side a little, brows furrowed, “a shirt? your shirt, i guess? gyu, what is—“
mingyu takes your hand and rushes into the bedroom with you in tow, yanking open your closet and expertly picking out some of your more formal attire and throwing them on the bed.
“okay, we can do this, absolutely no problem. you go and freshen up and i pick something for your to wear and then we’ll be out the door in less then ten minutes. sound good?” you blink at mingyu, his ramble only causing you more confusion.
walking over to him you take his hands, effectively ripping his attention away from the bundle of clothes he was sifting through on the bed. “babe, what the fuck is going on? are you okay?”
“am i okay? …are you okay? we’ve waited so long for this reservation, i’m not gonna let us miss it—“ he trails off while yanking his hands free from your hold, gently turning you and pushing you towards the bathroom, “go!”
“gyu, you are aware that the reservation is for tomorrow?” you let yourself be pushed into the bathroom, mingyu now staring at you, doubt evident in his eyes. “it’s today, y/n.”
“it’s tomorrow.”
“it’s today.”
which is what lead to mingyu frantically searching for the booking confirmation he got months ago, trying to figure out which of you was right - though you did start to freshen up just in case mingyu was actually right. just in case.
you let out an exasperated sigh and snatch mingyu’s phone out of his hands, “i love you, but let me look for a second,” you press a quick kiss to his jaw and start typing in the search bar of his mail app.
and there it was!
an order confirmation for a personalised engagement ring.
…a what?
both of you stare at his phone, utterly frozen. mingyu’s eyes drift from his phone screen to your face, trying to figure out if you’re seeing what he’s seeing. maybe you don’t? maybe—
god, who is he kidding.
he half expects you to freak out, to squeal and jump in his arms and pepper his face with kisses — though there also is that small part of him that’s nagging at his happy-go-lucky wishful thinking, insisting that he should be scared that you’re unhappy, that you think it’s too early, that you’ll distance yourself.
but nothing. you don’t look at him, you don’t say anything. you don’t even tap the e-mail to read it all in full.
you clear your throat and grin at mingyu triumphantly, “look! here it is, it’s tomorrow.” you point to the confirmation mail from the restaurant that just so happens to be right above the one for the ring.
“oh…,” mingyu drifts off and the two of you just stare at each other for a second. should you say anything? better not, you decide.
you can’t suppress a small giggle when you press a kiss to his cheek, “go get changed. i’m picking out a movie,” and with that you hand him back his phone, practically skipping back into the living room, leaving an utterly conflicted mingyu behind.
what now?
while you’re busy getting some snacks and drinks from the kitchen, mingyu takes his sweet time changing from his crisp suit into his pyjamas. his mind is racing, his hands are sweaty. should he stick to his plan to propose on your birthday? or should he do it tomorrow, after the dinner? what if you think that he changed his mind now that you know what he’s planning to do, if he doesn’t do it tomorrow? oh god, what if he waits too long and you think the ring is for someone else?!
you barely notice the somewhat tense look on his face when he joins you in the living room, you nuzzling up to him almost on instinct when he finds his place next to you on the couch.
he’s way too nervous to pick up on the hearts in your eyes when you look at him and you’re way too overjoyed to notice how tense he is.
for a while everything is fine, the two of you watching the movie though neither of you really absorb whatever is playing in front of you. you’re still snuggled into his side, fingers tracing little figured on his arm.
he sighs quietly and starts playing with your fingers, and the way he almost subconsciously starts to caress your ring finger makes you bite your lip to stifle the squeal that threatened to come out, opting to nuzzle into his neck to hide your face instead.
your adorable giggle against his neck is what finally makes him look down at you, lacing your fingers together, “what’s so funny?”
it’s a stupid question. you both know.
you can’t hide the dopey smile on your face and just shrug, head resting against his shoulder, “i don’t know.”
mingyu pulls you closer against him, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, “you know, baby.”now you’re both giggling, and if someone were to see you they’d probably think you’re insane.
you just can’t bottle it all up anymore so you let out a little squeal, almost crushing him in a tight hug, face hidden in his neck.
“…is it here? at home?” you whisper, biting your lip when he nods. “is it hidden?,” he nods again, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter. for second it’s quiet between you two, mingyu pressing a small kiss to your forehead.
“can we play the hot or cold game? until i find it?” and he almost curses when you finally look up at him; the excited sparkles in your eyes, the pure adoration they hold almost makes him crumble but he stays strong.
as cute as you are, he already has it all planned out. you just have to wait a little linger.
he chuckles, a hand coming up to cup your face, the warmest and softest look on his face and for a second you’re sure he’s gonna say yes.
“absolutely not, baby,” he mumbles, pulling your face in for a kiss.
it was worth a try, you guess.
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700+ words, I was watching sex education and idk I just was itching to write this, I've not written like 20 days pls go easy on me, tbh idk what this is I wrote this in like half an hour fml. Idek if I'll put it in my masterlist we'll see
Loving Reo came easy. He was lovely in all aspects. He was caring, calm, considerate and over all he treated you like you deserved the world. You felt yourself around him. He made you feel carefree.
Reo was what people would term as the perfect boyfriend. He would be willing to give you a ride to school, invite you over to his house, and make you meet his parents. He would take you out on the best dates known to mankind, starting from a cute french cafe to the bit on the expensive side Italian restaurant downtown. Reo let you choose the movies on date nights where you stayed over, and he watched it all without a complaint. Even if the movie was one he was not quite a huge fan of.
Your parents loved Reo. They called him 'the famous Mikage Reo' because recently all you ever actually talked to them about was him. Introducing your boyfriend to your parents went way better than you expected. Did they embarrass you? Absolutely. Did Reo playfully tease you about it? Also absolutely. Did that make you unhappy though? No. Maybe a bit of faux anger yes but not unhappy. It felt so right. You had never introduced your previous partners to your parents before but introducing Reo to them felt like the correct thing to do. He was charming. An absolute charmer. Your dad could easily converse about the stock market with him and your mom somehow coaxed the fact out that he baked at times. It was a lovely night that, when it ended and your boyfriend had to depart for his own home, made you a tad bit melancholic.
You bid him farewell and he promised to call once he got home. Dear old you and your dear old habit of being concerned.
"Well did you get home safe?" You enquired through the phone, lying down on your bed.
"Yeah. Yeah I did. You know, my driver wouldn't try and kidnap me," Reo chuckled, clearly joking.
"I know that! It's just...... I am just making sure you're okay. What? Can I not worry about my boyfriend anymore," Reo couldn't see you but he felt your embarrassment through the line. He smiled softly.
"Of Course you can," he sighed. It felt good to be cared for by someone, he thought. It felt good to be cared for by you.
"I gotta go now. Need to complete my homework," you chuckled out as you put an arm over your eyes, grinning wide, cheeks a bit hued because Reo always had that effect on you.
"Bye. Sleep on time I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly and you thought that this was the right time. You had to say it.
"Oh! Oh! Before you cut the call I wanted to say something," you felt the sudden nerves taking over your body, a mix of excitement and a bit of anxiety as you felt the purple haired boy ask you what it was you needed to say.
"Uhm, I love you Reo," you sucked in a breath, grinning wide, excited for him to say it back.
All you could hear was silence. The line went absolutely quiet and your face morphed into confusion before you checked your phone to see if he was still on call. He was.
"Reo?" Your voice turned into one of concern.
"Oh!" Your voice seemed to bring him back to life. "Well that's uhm.....that's uh.....nice to hear y/n. That's really good to hear."
His nervous chuckle dissipated all the previous excitement you felt. You breathed in as if to gather yourself together but slowly, tears started building up in your waterline. He didn't say it back. He didn't fucking say it back.
You quickly cut the call without saying anything in return. You blinked a few times to make the tears go away. So what if he didn't say it back? You thought. It doesn't have to shatter you. But it did. Somehow, somewhere a small part of you broke.
Reo was truly the perfect boyfriend, you believed that with your whole heart. However, maybe he didn't really love you back the same way you loved him.
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Wally Darling x Reader ( Jealousy Part 2 )
The very next day Wally decided to spend some time with his precious neighbor. Once he got to there, it seems they were spending time with Sally. Wally didn’t like this but he didn’t want to get angry….Jealousy was something Wally didn’t like feeling and yet he just couldn’t help himself. Why did he feel this way? Wally didn’t know….Wally continued to watch them silently in the shadows.
“ So Neighbor, what did you do for New Years? Me? Well I just enjoyed watching my favorite movies.” Sally said. “ Oh well I was with Wally-“ “ Wally? Oh honey, didn’t he act a little off the rails the last time he caught you with Howdy?” “ W-Well yeah, but he said he was sorry….Though I do get a little worried sometimes if he truly means that…” Sally was getting worried for neighbor’s safety. “ Well hopefully he learned that it’s okay to be jealous….The little guy can be a bit…..off.”
“ Off?” Questioned Wally. Wally was very unhappy by what Sally just said. He also doesn’t understand why everyone is worried about him spending time with his neighbor….Wally was actually starting to get rather annoyed by this….. “ How am I acting off? I’m just spending time with my neighbor….” Wally thinks to himself.
Wally continues to watch them until he notices that Sally has waved goodbye to neighbor and he finally gets to be with them…Wally walked up to neighbor and says “ Hello there, neighbor~. Happy New Year.” Wally says as he gently holds her hands. “ Oh hello there, Wally. Happy New Year to you too.” You said. Wally was happy but in a more obsessive like happy. He wanted to kiss you so badly but he had to be good.
“ Oh Wally, there’s something that everyone keeps telling me. Sally just told me that you have been acting off lately-…” “ She’s lying, neighbor….There is nothing wrong with me, I am perfectly fine. Now why don’t we just go to my house for some hot chocolate? Would you like that?” Wally said as he continues to look directly into your eyes….His eyes have dilated and normally when his eyes have dilated like that it wasn’t always a good thing.
“ O-Oh okay….( Odd his eyes have completely dilated, this isn’t good…..Hopefully he’s not getting angry about something….)” You said as you also thought to yourself about how Wally’s eyes have dilated. Once you’ve entered Wally’s home, it was very warm. Both you and Wally sat down to enjoy some hot chocolate together. You felt so relaxed after drinking it that you decided to take a nice nap.
Wally sat his hot chocolate down on the coffee table and peacefully stroked your hair. Then he gently kissed your cheek and gently placed you on his chest as you slept. “ Oh neighbor, I really love you….The others may not fully understand how I feel about you but that’s okay……* Kisses your forehead * Ah, so cute…” Wally said as continued to watch you sleep….
Funny, what exactly did Wally put in that hot chocolate? He’s wide awake and you’re sleeping….Hmmm, I wonder.
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The Last Steve Harrington Part 17
AO3 / Part 1 / Part 16
Months passed and Steve fell into a routine. He worked three days a week at Family Video with Robin, spent time with the kids and the Hopper-Byers,’ and slowly – slowly started living again.
He wouldn’t say he was happy.
But…
He wasn’t unhappy and that was new.
He liked working with Robin and every chance he got he went to the lake and swam. He borrowed Joyce or Hopper’s car and drove for miles and miles, listening to music and just…being. Every penny he made at work went towards buying his own car. A beamer would be out of his budget but he would find something good and durable. He was fit and healthy and even though he still had nightmares he managed to sleep most nights, even if it was just a little. Late night walks were still a common occurrence, as were morning coffee conversations with Hopper as they watched the sun rise. On Sundays they watched football and sometimes Eleven joined them. On the nights he wasn’t working, he and Joyce made dinner together.
The kids invited him to the movies and the arcade and Dustin had started asking him to play D&D with them. He had managed to deflect that for now. D&D was something precious to him, something he had played to make Eds happy but had turned into a way to bond with the kids and Hellfire. Steve knew it could do the same for him here… but he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. So, deflection… for now anyway.
Another Eleven visited. They had all just sat down for dinner when a knock sounded at the door. Joyce had gone to answer it and had come back wide-eyed with Eleven trailing her into the house. She looked identical to the Eleven sitting at the table, sharing her colourful clothes and hair. They had stared at each other hard, some secret communication passing between them before she turned to Steve with a beaming smile.
She sat beside him and held his hand and he didn’t let go. It didn’t matter how hard it was to eat one handed, he didn’t let go. They ate and talked, Eleven telling him about her Steve and Steve telling her about himself and his life. When dinner was over, he walked her out and she said the words that every visiting Eleven said: Thank you. I am so glad you lived. He hugged her and told her he loved her and that everything was going to be okay. She left with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.
Eddie liked to stop by Family Video to see him and Robin and the three of them hung out fairly often on weekends. When they had time, he and Eddie worked on fixing the old Munson trailer. Eddie had seemed pleasantly surprised that Steve hadn’t been joking when he said they should try. They borrowed tools from Hopper and Wayne and started clearing everything out. It was a large project and often they had no idea what they were doing but it was something tangible for Steve to work toward. A small purpose that quickly became one of his favourite days of the week.
The thing was…
Eddie was clumsy… and not your average person clumsy.
Clumsy.
The man tripped over literally everything. Carpets, street curbs, his own damn feet. And he didn’t just trip a little and catch himself. Oh no, he fell flat on his face, sprawled on the floor. It never failed to make Steve laugh – the over-the-top dramatic nature of it. If he didn’t know better, he might think Eddie was doing it on purpose. But that was just how Eddie was, loud and dramatic and over-the-top. He and Eds’ were similar in that way. Both were exuberant playful people, but there was a calculation behind Eddie’s eyes that Eds’ had lacked. A darkness… or a wisdom. Something that spoke of loss and survival that Steve recognized in his own eyes. An understanding that scared him… and thrilled him.
He knew Robin tried. They all tried. But their understanding came from the loss of Steve Harrington, whose ghost lived in their eyes… and sometimes it hurt to face them. There was a reason he struggled so hard to connect with Dustin. Steve never expected that he would become so comfortable with Eddie, but he was. Eddie wasn’t Eds and Steve wasn’t Steve and he didn’t know why, but the ghosts left them alone.
Eddie never seemed to mind the days when Steve was quiet. When he needed to hit nails with a hammer until all other thoughts disappeared, when he was angry and destructive. They made a few trips to the junkyard on the particularly bad days. Steve spent the time destroying whatever he could get his hands on and Eddie looked for materials they could use for the trailer. He was good at scavenging – at finding useful things that others had deemed useless and thrown away.
And so, the summer passed.
The kids went back to school and the house got quieter. Steve worked at Family Video and put all his earnings towards a car. He spent time with his friends and worked on rebuilding the Munson trailer. He cooked with Joyce and watched football on Sundays…
… and the good days slowly started to outweigh the bad days.
---
“Steve!”
He was sitting on the roof, the strong September sunlight hitting the back of his neck as he hammered nails into the plywood beneath him. He and Eddie were trying to get the trailer patched up enough to get them through the winter. They had spent the majority of their time cleaning out the inside and had only just started on the infrastructure. Eddie had been working on putting in a new frame for the wall while Steve worked on the roof. There was still so much to do –
“Steve!”
His hammer almost slipped out of his fingers as he was jolted from his thoughts. He leaned over the side, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Eddie was looking up at him, hands on his hips. His shirt was off, his usually pale skin was red and shining with sweat. Steve sighed. He would have to remind him to use more sunscreen. His eyes glanced down his torso, his scars and tattoos on display and Steve wished he had even an ounce of Eddie’s self-confidence. It never failed to surprise him; how much Eddie didn’t seem to care about them. Or didn’t seem to care about other people caring about them?
“What?” Steve asked, looking away before Eddie caught him ogling.
“Dude, I’ve been calling your name for ten minutes. What’re ya doing up there?”
“Shit, sorry. Just focused, I guess. I want to get this done.”
“You’ve been nailing for hours, come down and have dinner.”
“You made dinner?” Steve asked incredulously. He must have been really zoned out if he hadn’t noticed Eddie had left for that long. He was also surprised that Eddie knew how to cook.
Eddie laughed. “Fuck no. Wayne made dinner.”
“What’d he make?”
“Fish. Caught it fresh yesterday.”
Steve immediately set his hammer down. Oh yes. He would stop working for Wayne’s fish. His pasta? No. His meatloaf? Steve suppressed a shudder. Defintiely not. But his fish?
Yes.
He carefully made his way to the side where a ladder was set up against the trailer. He turned around and put his feet on the top rung and started climbing down. He wasn’t expecting Eddie to be at the bottom holding it steady for him. When he got close to the end, Eddie stepped away to give him space but still held onto one side of the ladder. Their faces passed close, and Steve could see that his cheeks were even redder than before. He definitely needed to use more sunscreen.
“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile.
“Yup,” Eddie said looking away from him. “No problem. Happy to help. You really shouldn’t climb a ladder without someone holding it, ya know? You could fall and die. Or break your back and be paralyzed for life. Safety first, Steve.”
Steve looked up at the trailer, it was maybe 12-15 feet high. If he fell the worst thing that could happen was him breaking a leg. If he had bad luck and fell on it wrong. Eddie wasn’t allowed on the roof because he would definitely fall off and break his leg or die or be paralyzed for life – he was that clumsy… or that unlucky. But Steve appreciated the concern.
They walked through the park, waving and saying hello to the other residents as Eddie kept up a constant stream of chatter at his side. When they got to the new Munson trailer, Eddie skipped up the steps first and then held the door open for Steve, which earned him a snort and a side eye that just made him smile. Wayne was in the kitchen and Steve’s stomach growled as the smell hit his nose.
“Wash up boys,” Wayne said without turning around.
The bathroom was small and they were both hot and sweaty. Eddie turned on the water at the sink and let it run as he washed his hands. Steve reached in beside him with cupped hands and splashed the water on his face and neck.
“Hey!” Eddie yelped as some of it hit him.
He was about to apologize when Eddie turned his hand sharply, sending a blast of water directly into his face. Steve spluttered for a moment before glaring over at him. Eddie was smirking, probably thinking Steve wouldn’t start something in Wayne’s bathroom. Oh, how wrong he was.
“It’s on, Munson!”
“Show me what ya got, Harrington!”
Eddie had the advantage of having his hands already in the sink, so he got off another shot before Steve managed to slip under his defenses and get his own hands on the frigid water. Eddie shrieked as Steve landed a hit on his bare chest. They grappled over control of the water source, getting progressively wetter as the battle raged, their laughter sounding loud in the small room.
“Boys!” Wayne yelled.
They stopped abruptly and moved out of each other’s space, breaths ragged and water dripping from their hair. Steve grabbed a towel and passed it to Eddie before grabbing one for himself. They smiled softly at each other as they dried off. Steve put his towel on the floor by the sink to soak up the water and they left.
Wayne glared as they re-entered the kitchen and Steve felt heat rise on his neck. It was easy to forget that this Wayne didn’t know him. At least he had the foresight to know that his gruff exterior hid a truly sensitive man. Steve had been absolutely terrified of Wayne when he and Eds had started dating but he had quickly become someone he loved and trusted. Now, they were almost strangers again. Eddie left the room, returning with his arms above his head as he put on a black sleeveless shirt, the muscles in his abdomen pulling taught.
“Steve, go sit. Eddie, set the table.”
They both did what they were told. Steve sat and Eddie moved around Wayne with ease, grabbing mismatched dishes and cutlery and bringing them to the table. When it was set, he slid into the seat on the other side of Steve, shooting him a wink and reaching his arm across the back of the chair beside him. Wayne carried over a large tray full of steaming food and put it on the table before sitting down with a heavy sigh.
Eddie immediately attacked the tray, grabbing fish and potatoes but leaving the vegetables untouched. Steve waited and risked a small smile at Wayne who only blinked back at him tiredly. When Eddie had tucked into his own food, Steve scooped out a bit of everything onto his own plate before handing the spoon to Wayne who did the same.
“I heard a funny story at work,” Eddie began. “A friend of mine has a cat. Well, his wife has a cat, she loved the thing, he always hated it. Anyway, it was sick so she made an appointment at the vet. She’s busy with the kids and can’t take it, so she makes him go. He’s driving and the thing is meowing like crazy in the backseat. All of a sudden it goes quiet, and he’s just glad to have some peace for the rest of the drive. He gets to the vet and goes to get the cat. Unfortunately, it’s dead, but his wife made the appointment and he doesn’t want her to get mad at him. So, he picks it up, takes it in. Walks up to the counter holding the cat and says, ‘I’ve got an appointment.’ The lady looks at him, looks at the cat, and says ‘sir, that cat is dead.’”
Wayne stared at him like he was crazy but Steve burst out laughing. After a moment, Wayne laughed too, shaking his head.
“Oh my God. Why’d he bring the cat in if he knew it was dead?” Steve asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Eddie shrugged and said, “he had an appointment!” and Steve burst out laughing again.
“You need new friends, son,” Wayne said seriously.
Steve settled back with a smile as Eddie and Wayne argued over the value of Eddie’s friendship. He ate his dinner and it was as delicious as he remembered. The fish was light and flaky, the potatoes had a crunchy golden skin and the vegetables were cooked to perfection. Steve thought back to the days when he had nothing to eat but beans – how he used to dream of Wayne’s fish – how he thought he would never get to eat it again. Slowing down, he ate more carefully, savoring every bite. He wouldn’t take it for granted, not this time. He knew now how easily things could be torn away.
When they were done, Steve took the dishes to the sink. Wayne protested weakly but settled back down when Steve insisted he would wash them.
“Thank you for dinner, Wayne. It was delicious,” he said as the sink filled with water and soap.
“Good t’have ya,” Wayne replied gruffly.
Eddie came over with a towel and started drying the dishes Steve had stacked in the rack. Wayne grabbed a beer out of the fridge and headed out to the living room. A grunt sounded and Steve heard the chair recline and the television switch on. Eddie started humming beside him and Steve looked out of the window, feeling full and peaceful. Good food, good company. They had made some progress on the trailer. Another good day. He just hoped the nightmares would stay away so he could sleep well. Good days meant bad nights… sometimes.
“I’ll drive you home when we’re done.”
“Thanks,” Steve said and let out a little sigh. He hated being driven around, it made him feel like a child. A car meant freedom. Independence. Not being beholden to anyone.
Eddie nudged him with his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I just really need my own car, man.”
Eddie looked over at him. “You’ve been saving for a while. Think you’re close?”
Steve thought about his bank account, how slowly it was increasing with the crappy pay from Family Video. He should ask Robin for more shifts, she really needed to fire that idiot who kept calling in sick on her.
“Getting there,” he replied.
When they were done with the dishes, Eddie asked him to wait a few minutes. He went into his room, so Steve went and sat with Wayne while he waited.
“He laughs more with you around, ya know?” Wayne said suddenly and Steve looked over at him with surprise.
“He does?”
Wayne nodded and took a sip of his beer. “It’s good, what you’re doin’ with the trailer. Good for Eddie. Good for you too, I think. Ask for help if you need it, yeah?”
Wayne was looking at him intently and Steve couldn’t help but fidget.
“We will,” Steve replied and looked away from his heavy gaze.
“Not just about the trailer.”
Steve slowly turned back and met Wayne’s eyes. There was something in them, that same look that he and Eddie shared. Loss and survival. Darkness and wisdom. He was viscerally reminded that Eddie had died. That Wayne had thought Eddie was dead. He still didn’t know the whole story. Eddie had explained a bit… but he knew there was more. Steve nodded slowly and Wayne must have accepted whatever was on his face because he gave a decisive nod back just as Eddie walked into the room.
“Ready to go?” Eddie asked, wiggling his keys
“Yup,” Steve said and stood up. “Bye Wayne, thanks again.”
“Steve,” Wayne said and dipped his head.
He was quiet on the drive home, thinking about The Upside Down and Vecna and how much pain they had caused the people of Hawkins. Steve knew his loss was great, but that didn’t mean he could ignore everyone else’s. He needed to talk to Dustin and find some way for them to move forward. They had both lost a brother and they might never be that to each other again…but –
They could be.
It was something that had always struck Steve as odd whenever they discussed Other Steve – how despite all the changes with himself, Robin, Eddie, Joyce, Hopper, Nancy and Jonathan, with Vecna, Hawkins and the world – the kids were the same. Who he was to the kids was the same. At least in this universe. And what were the odds of that? Fucking astronomical if he had to guess. He just needed Dustin to understand that even if they did share those memories, he was a different person now.
He also needed to talk to Eddie. Ask him about what happened to him, or at least let him know that he was open to talking if he wanted to. Eddie had told him that he thought he could understand what Steve had gone through. Which meant the opposite was true and he could understand Eddie, too. Steve glanced over at him from the corner of his eye. He had the radio on and he was humming and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. They were almost to his place so now wasn’t the time, but he resolved that when he saw Eddie next, he would ask him if he wanted to talk about The Upside Down and what had happened to them.
They turned onto Steve’s street and he could see Hopper, Joyce, Will and Eleven were all standing outside like they were waiting for him. Eddie slowed down as he approached and parked the car on the curb in front of the house. Sitting in the driveway was a maroon 1983 BMW. His car. Steve stared at it unmoving. It gleamed in the sunlight, chrome flashing.
“That’s my car,” he said to himself, still staring at it like it was a mirage that would disappear if he let it out of his sight.
Eddie chuckled and said, “yup! Gunna go get it or just keep sitting in my decrepit van?”
Steve unbuckled his belt and slowly opened the door. Will and Eleven ran over to meet him, each grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards Hopper and Joyce.
“Your parents had it in storage,” Hopper explained. “I called them about it months ago to see how I could go about getting it for you but they never called me back. They only just reached out because they heard you’re back in Hawkins.”
Steve froze as panic rose with frightening force throughout his body. His parents knew he was in Hawkins. He did not want to see them. He couldn’t see them. Hopper must have seen the panic on his face because he rushed over and put a hand on his shoulder. His heart was still beating fiercely, adrenaline rushing through him as he tried to calm his fight or flight response.
“They’re not coming back here, Steve. They just had some questions.”
Steve swallowed hard. “Questions about me?”
Hopper nodded. “They wanted to know where you went.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That it was none of their business.”
“I can’t afford it,” Steve said quietly. “Whatever you paid my parents for it, I can’t pay you back.”
“I didn’t pay anything for it.”
Steve reared back in shock. That wasn’t possible. His parents would never give something away for free… his actual parents wouldn’t anyway and from everything he had learned about Other Steve’s parents they were just as bad as his were.
“How?” Steve managed to ask.
“It’s in your name. When you were listed as a missing person your parents took ownership but with you back, they had to give it up.” There was an or else that Hopper left hanging in the air. “All yours,” he said holding out the keys. “No strings attached.”
Steve stared at them, unsure how to respond to such kindness. Hopper was making it sound like it was an easy simple thing he had done, but Steve knew it wasn’t. He knew that Hopper probably had to yell and threaten and pull all his weight as chief to get his parents to do the right thing. And even then, Steve was surprised he had managed to convince them.
“Go ahead, Steve,” Joyce said softly from Hopper’s side. “Take it for a drive.”
Will and Eleven tugged at his hands. “Can we come?” Will asked.
Steve smiled, happiness unfurling in his chest like a flower seeing the sun after days and days of rain. He had a car! And not just any car. His car. It felt like the whole world had opened for him. No more asking permission, no more waiting for anyone else to be ready. He could leave whenever he wanted. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.
“Kids, let Steve go–” Joyce began but Steve cut her off.
“Of course, you can!”
They both shrieked and ran for the car, a scuffle breaking out over who would get the front seat. Will reached it first but when he went to open the door, Eleven blinked and the lock clicked back into place.
“No fair!” Will exclaimed.
“Shot gun.” Eleven said firmly and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Thank you,” Steve said as he took the keys from Hopper who nodded and clapped his shoulder again.
Joyce kissed his cheek and said, “you’re welcome.”
He looked at the keys in his hand and another huge grin broke out on his face as he noticed the Scoops Ahoy keychain. Eddie came up to his side and wordlessly held out a cassette tape. Steve took it and turned it over, looking for the band name but it was blank.
“It’s a mix tape,” Eddie filled in, looking a little sheepish. “A side for good days. B side for bad days.”
Steve felt his smile soften. It was a thoughtful gift. A mixtape could say a lot about a person. He was curious what Eddie would choose for good days and bad days and was looking forward to listening to it – to learning more about him.
“Thanks, Eddie.”
Eddie waved him off, his cheeks tinted red.
Joyce pushed him towards his car. Steve slid into the driver’s seat, and waited for the kids to get in and put on their seat belts before he backed out of the driveway. He waved at Hopper, Joyce and Eddie as they passed.
They all rolled their windows down and Steve put Eddie’s tape in the player.
On the A side.
---
@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @tinytalkingtina @whole-moods @queenie-ofthe-void
@nailbatanddungeon So sorry I missed your name change a few chapters ago!!
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Ok I'm sorry but this is gonna be a long rant.
I am an ex swiftie (also a minor) and I joined the fandom back in 2022 after midnights released. Before that I had heard a few songs but I barely knew anything about Taylor before 2020 and I did not know about the Kimye stuff or anything.
When the bejeweled music video was released I did not realize the easter eggs so thus I thought that I need to become parasocial and I NEED to know everything that taylor has done every minute of the day (referencing Do you really wanna know where I was April 29?)
I went deeper into the hole. I started getting obsessed with Taylor. I clicked on every video , post and podcast mentioning her. I genuinely became a parasocial fan. I only heard her songs and barely cared about other artists. I hated on her exes (Jake Gyllenhaal and John Mayer especially) because I believed that they had hurt Taylor to no extent. I still don't like them/am neutral but I don't hate them anymore. In march I joined tumblr because I heard Taylor was on here and I have no other social media to support her from so I came here to give her my support.
In April , the breakup happened. I was genuinely devastated. Joe was and is an amazing person. I was shocked to see her move on so quickly and date m*tty he*ly . I was even as a child shocked as to how someone can move on so fast. But also move on to someone so problematic after calling herself an activist? Idk what was wrong with her. But IG as long as she is happy.
She broke up with him. We all rejoiced. Speak now TV was also announced! Yay!
I remember so well on 7th July I was in school and I was so fucking excited about it coming so soon I couldn't sit still. I was counting down minutes until it's release even tho I did not have any devices to listen to it on. My friends were so happy to see me happy and excited af.
I went home and heard speak now tv. Amazing experience for me at that time.
I became the person who said shit like : I hate everyone but Taylor and Taylor is a gift to this Earth and etc etc.
But the amount of joe hate and joeover and joebless jokes annoyed me. Why were we hating a person who was in her life at her worst moments? Taylor would never condone or allow this.
But boy was I wrong.
Most of the hate against joe was my #Strike 1 for leaving the fandom.
Then came along Traylor. I was like oh ok as long as she is happy :))
Then she started associating with the nfl people. Br*ttany M*homes and Abuser bitch.
When I heard of this I was like wtf Taylor???
Weren't you the one who was going off about being on the right side of the history and believing victims?
I was like it's fine maybe she doesn't know or maybe she will stop once she knows.
She didn't
Then she won person of the year. I was already very unhappy with Taylor at that time. But I still was like Yay! Congrats! But maybe you shouldn't be the one to win it?
Then the doxxing by a swiftie happened. It was #strike 3
I left the fandom. I still had hope she would change.
Now after seeing her jets emissions (I'm a huge Environmentalist and a feminist so this shit bothered the living helm out of me) and her continuously hanging out with brittany piece of shit and all the joe hate going on, I am beginning to despise her.
I had initally blocked hate pages like yours but Now I open your posts everyday and check them because I relate to them sm.
I went from a person defending every action of Taylor's, being the only one in my entire theatre who knew the lyrics to all the songs of the eras tour movie , having Taylor as my top artist of the year with more than 60 percent of the songs being hers to despising her so much for being fake and stuck up.
I remember after I left the fandom and not many people knew about it , A classmate said something against Taylor and her songs directly to me daring me to oppose it and I genuinely wanted to cry because I thought that I would now always be associated with this fandom.
The ex swiftie in me genuinely wants 2016 to happen again so Taylor will be removed from the pedestal she is put on by so many. She needs to be saved from herself and her parasocial fans.
And I used to say I would love Taylor forever but I suppose forever really is the sweetest con.
TLDR :- I USED TO BE A PARASOCIAL SWIFTIE WHO USED TO LIVE AND BREATHE TAYLOR BUT NOW I'M SLOWLY STARTING TO DESPISE HER.
Sorry this was so long I had to get it off my chest.
Thanks for reading it!
ex swifties are my favourite people in this planet rn
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I have a Sherlock request if you’re happy to do it!
I’d love it if you could write something friends-to-lovers / idiots-in-love like where Y/N is on a case with Sherlock + John and she starts saying how romantic the place is so Sherlock takes her back there later and confesses his love to her 🥹
I love your writing!❤️
All I wanted to say
Sherlock x fem reader
Fluff only no warnings
Word count: 3.1K
Exactly as asked Sherlock has a crush and wants to confess. Hope you enjoy :)
“Are you sure I should be coming with you?” you say being pushed into the back of the cab by your unusual flat mate.
“Oh yes you’re perfectly qualified.” he smiled as he hurried along the cab driver.
“Sherlock, I own a bookshop.” you reply with a tone of irritance in your voice.
“Well nobody’s perfect but that's not what i mean.” he says keeping his eyes to the window
“I know, you mean John is busy with Mary and you need somebody to show off too.” you roll your eyes.
“Well, no. I don’t show off, we’ve discussed this.” he adds
“When?! When did we discuss this, I called you out on it last week.”
“Exactly and i told you i wasn’t showing off i was in fact you stating the obvious.” he says finally turning to you.
“No you didn't, you just stared at me.” you huff
“Did I?” he fixed his eyes elsewhere
“Uh huh.” you say crossing your arms like an unhappy toddler. “Where are we going?”
“Apollo victoria theatre. Lead to one of their most popular shows was murdered” he says texting away on his phone.
“No way” you brow raises in excitement
“What?” He looked confused. “It was murder, usually only I am excited over these things.” a small smile began forming at the corner of his mouth.
“No it’s just the history in that building and the shows, god what i’d give to see one.” your eyes lit up.
“Oh, right. One has to understand when they’re different I see.” his smile dispersed. His heart fluttered as he watched you watch the streets as you grew closer to the destination. He couldn’t understand it, he did actually bring you along to the case as you were useful, but he needed time. He needed time to study you more, he was going to eventually tell you his findings, just how he would explain it after watching you cry to countless romance movies and going on about relationships where for small minded people. But for you, he would be small minded.
You followed him out the cab in awe, the way his mood changed when he got to the crime scene was almost instantaneous like the flick of a switch, you enjoyed watching Anderson’s face drop as Sherlock entered the building. You followed him through the halls past the police giving you, a civilian, strange looks. You shouldn't be here but you were with him and that sugar coated the whole thing, but it’s not like he could ever know that, he was your friend and a good one that is. You couldn’t risk losing that he needed a friend and you needed him. For one he makes sure the crime story you’re writing is factually correct, whether you like it or not, but you did appreciate the time he spent with you. You’d take anything at this point, you were starting to become desperate and it stupid. But here you are following him through the place you’d always wanted to visit to look at a dead body, how romantic.
“I got here as soon as you called.” John appeared from the hallway as you walk down the aisles and rows of chairs towards the stage where a woman laid in the centre of the stage face down and a pool of blood leaking from her head.
“Have you examined her yet?” Sherlock commanded pulling rubber gloves down his wrists
“I thought John was busy?” you question
“Why would I be busy? This is my job?” john asked confused as you both look at sherlock who looked up from the body
“You didn’t answer my call. And i needed her.” he nodded to you who began to lose it
“Why would you possibly need me? I had to close the book shop I'm already behind on rent.” you pace as you lecture. You were stopped by his tall frame gripping your shoulders.
“Shh.” he says the taste of latex edging your lips as his finger covers them. “I need you to rule out the possibility of suicide. When was the building built?”
“1930.” you mumble “Did you just touch a body and then put your hands on my mouth?” you say pulling away
“Uh, maybe.” he holds his arms behind his back looking up to the ceiling “when was it last refurbished?”
“1981, why?”
“Look at that, your history degree is finally coming into use.” he says running backstage.
“Wow, I'm so happy about that.” you sigh sarcastically. You shuffle about the stage for a moment taking in the room, it was amazing the rows of velvet red seats climbing their way to the seats. The golden patterns on the railing, the way the dust trickled to the floor.
Dust? No that's not right, you look up to see Sherlock boxing on the railing above the stage that technicians would use to lower props.
“Sherlock, get down from there!” John yelled as sherlock stepped out closer to the edge.
“This plank, its broken.” he shouted back down
“Its an old building” john replied
“I’m coming back down. I know what happened.” the sounds of footsteps eagerly coming towards you echoed through the halls as he worked his way down.
“That was fast.” you say impressed
“Usually it doesn't take him this long, he seems a bit distracted.” John smiled
“Yeah, he hasn’t seen you in a while.” you add to his statement
“That's not what i meant.” he said still smiling
“Then what did you mean?”
“Suicide” sherlock interupted you
“But all the evidence leads to the backup lead.” john replies
“Just because the lead and the backup argue does not mean the backup would kill the lead. No, the lead was stressed, you can tell by the amount of loose hairs around her head. Probably because she was behind on her rent obviously doesn’t pay well in the west end, dark circles around her eyes and pale skin add to that conclusion, malnourishment, come on john you're a doctor after all. No my friend she couldn't handle her life anymore the pressure from the backup obviously wasn’t helping either but they are completely innocent.'' He turned to you and winked as he walked away correcting the collar of his coat.
You stood in awe. He really was impressive, but as you reminded yourself time after time he wasn’t interested. No matter how many times he would appear in the corner of the bookshop because he was, as he claimed, bored, no matter how many times you could have sworn you felt him watching you as he played his violin. He never really would be yours, all you could do was hold on to what you had.
Sherlock hoped that his quick conclusion would entice you to join him on more adventures. He smiled to himself as he approached the theatre owner, remembering the look of awe on your pretty little face, the way your hair followed the neat shape of your jawline, oh sherlock, he was becoming flustered. He hated how no matter how many times he tried to tell you nothing would come out. He would wait until the shop was empty and appear looking through the rows of books just so he could watch the way you made the young children smile with your stories or help a stressed student find their textbook. His favourite would be when a husband comes in looking for the best “i forgot our anniversary book” the way you would approach the confused men in the romance section and hand them the most popular romcom at the time, always worked. He just loved being around you, he just loved you, and he was never one for keeping things to himself. And he wasn’t going to let this be the only thing he would keep to himself. The one thing you might want him to say.
“Mr holmes?” the owner stood with his hand out towards him
“Huh? Yes?” Sherlock snapped back into existence, how long was he gone for?
“I said thankyou for solving the case, so glad it’s not going to be too much paperwork, i asked if you would like some tickets, as a thankyou i mean?” he still held out his hand waiting for Sherlock to shake it.
“No thanks not really my-'' wait that's it, your face lit up when you saw the theatre he could take you. It could be a date? Sherlock on a date, god if Mycroft where to find out he’d think sherlock had gone insane. “Yes uh, any shows tonight?”unlikely he thought, suicide and all.
“Yes, once we get the stage cleaned up, we have wicked if that's your thing?”
“None of it is but I know someone who would love it.” he smiled shaking the man's hand
“Great, I'll tell the office you’ll be joining us tonight, with a guest I assume?” he smiled
“Uh yes”
He walked away feeling accomplished, his plan was perfect, all he had to do was not freeze.
…………………………….
It was around 4:30pm when you finally managed to get back to the bookshop. There were only two hours left of your usual hours, but being behind on rent meant every minute the bookshop was open counted.
“Thanks for visiting.” you smile at one of your usuals, a ginger haired english student from the local university. You often found her sitting in the corner of the shop studying until just before closing time. It didn’t bother you that she rarely purchased anything you were just glad she had somewhere to lay low.
“y/n?” Sherlock cleared his throat from behind you, causing you to almost drop the books in your hand with his sudden appearance. “Erm sorry i didn’t mean to-”
“It's fine.” you laughed it off “What can i help you with?” you smile placing the pile of books in his hand for him to hold why you find their places on the shelves.
“I uh was wondering if- of course if you’re not busy i-” he stuttered his words as you turned to him tucking you hair behind your ears
“Are you okay there?” you ask, taking a book, your hand slightly tracing over him.
Oh god did you, you did. You touched his finger, whether you meant it or not he couldn’t tell. It was hard enough when you turned around giving him a good look of your emerald green eyes, and the slightly too low neckline of your sweatshirt, but as a gentleman should, he never looked too much. At least he tried to. But your touch burned his skin, he needed more, he needed you. Why was he here again? Oh right.
“Theatre.” he suddenly blurted out
“Pardon?” you say confused at his sudden outburst
“The owner gave me two tickets for tonight's show, wicked, I believe and I was wondering if you weren’t too busy would you go with me? I saw how excited you were and-” he paused realising he was rambling.
“You want to go out with me? Like a date?” your eyes widened slightly, maybe all this time the feeling was mutual.
“A date?”
“Well two people go out, they enjoy each other's company and do something fun.”
“Isn’t romance usually part of it?” he asks leaning on the shelf
“It can be, but friends can have dates too.” you smile warmly
That word left him confused, friends? Is that all you saw the pair of you as? Was it even worth asking? He couldn’t change the plans now, you love the theatre and even if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, he would still get to see you smile. Sherlock Holmes was never one to back down because he was afraid of the outcome. And he wasn’t about to do it now.
He stood pacing in the living room of baker street, wearing his usual smart attire. Black dress trousers and a purple shirt. He paused as you came down the stairs looking a lot smarter than earlier, it was the theatre after all, he admired your outfit, a denim dress accompanied by black tights and your favourite pair of doc martins someone in your financial situation definitely shouldn’t own.
You moved in with Sherlock when John moved out after being friends for nearly two years, with you knowing him as the detective above the shop you figured having someone to help you pay rent wouldn’t cause you any problems. Only just leading to having a crush on the only man in London who didn’t seek out a relationship. People often seemed surprised when you told them you owned a bookshop, in the politest way girls who look like you don’t usually ever pick up a book after the age of five.
“Ready to go?” you smile picking up your coat. He stood silently observing you, his eyes tracing up and down your body. “Is everything okay? Is it too much?” you ask, becoming insecure.
“No, you look fine. Apologies for staring just, wow.” he smiled picking up his coat.
“Are you sure?” you ask as he ushered you out the door.
“Positive.” he smiled, this smile was real. Finally just you and him, he couldn’t wait for the show to be over, so he could tell you.
You gripped his arm as you entered the theatre heading to the ticket office, admiring the building in its true glory. The golden archways and marble floors are traced with a red carpet, leading to the box office. You were like a kid in a candy shop, it was amazing.
“Are you okay?” sherlock asked with a smile
“Better than okay.” you exclaim
“Two please, for Mr Holmes. Mr Thompson said i could get in on him.” he asked the booth worker
“Of course, we’ve been expecting you Mr Holmes.” she smiled and handed him a set of tickets.
The look on your face was what brought Sherlock to pause in his mind. She had never looked this fascinated with any case that he had brought her to before and… was she holding his hand? It must be awkward both holding arm and hand but… what could it mean? For one, Sherlock Holmes couldn’t find an answer.
The two of you walked to your assigned seats and found that the owner had given you some of the best seats in the house. Sherlock watched your eyes light up even more as you sat down and looked out over the other seats and the stage to fully take in what was happening.
“Thank you for this, Sherlock,” you looked over at him with a smile and watched as he tensed up, awkwardly looking for an answer under your gaze.
Awkwardly clearing his throat, Sherlock nodded to you and gave you a gracious smile before replying, “you’re welcome.”
“Doesn’t it look amazing?” You smile admiring the mechanical dragon hanging above the stage.
“Yes, one would say even intriguing.” He smiled, keeping his eyes on you. He sighed as he watched the grip you had on his hand tightened as the lights dimmed. Maybe this show would be the best thing he’d seen in a while.
The show itself was more amazing than you could have ever imagined. The voices of the actors were amazing along with the choreography they had paired with the songs. You watched as even Sherlock seemed to enjoy it, smiling every time you looked over at him. You finally concluded that defining gravity was your new favourite song and just as quick as it started the show was over.
“Oh my god that was amazing, maybe the wicked witch wasn’t so wicked after all.” You beamed
“Perhaps she wasn’t.” Sherlock laughed at your excitement, his chest tightening as you once again looped your arm with his.
You wandered the streets before eventually stopping at a chip shop Sherlock had insisted you eat from instead of the closest shop you could find.
“These better be worth the blisters these boots are giving me.” You sighed as you slumped into the bench.
“Believe me it's one of the very few things I enjoy in this life.” He sat next to you, moving the chips in your direction allowing you to share.
“Okay, these are pretty good.” You smile as you push a chip into your hungry mouth.
“I told you so.” He smiled, the knot in his stomach tightened again as you knee touched his, the feeling he had come to find an answer too becoming more prominent than it ever had been. “Y/n I- there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He put the chips aside and turned to you.
“Okay then.” You watched as his baby blues were now fixed in your pupils, dilating as your gazes met. You looked away trying not to bring too much attention to yourself as you felt the heat of your blush appearing on your face, all because he looked at you.
“I uh, erm. As you know or as I explained in my speech at john's wedding, if you remember.” He shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “Relationships are a strange thing to me, the way humans feel the desire to find a specific partner to spend every moment with repulses me.”
“Oh” you sigh, looking away again, “I know that.”
“But that was before i met you, before i too found myself feeling that I didn’t function properly without you and I still don’t understand it, i find myself thinking about you constantly hoping you notice everything i do. I hope that I never disappoint you or cause you harm and i- well. I don't understand these emotions I'm feeling, but I know that I can't imagine my life without you. You make me feel things that I never thought possible, and I want you to know that I care about you more than anything and-“ he wasn’t able to finish the speech he had prepared before your lips where on his, a surge of electricity flowed through your bodies only being satisfied when he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in as close as possible you let out a small hum as his tongue pushed into your mouth, dancing with your own before finally pulling away to catch a breath.
“I uh, sorry i cut you off i just wanted to-“ you laugh tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“No, no it uh it pretty much had everything i wanted to say.” He smiled, taking your hand into his. “It was all I wanted to say.” He repeated before pulling you in again
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15 Questions 15 Mutuals
Tagged by @lost-and-cused 💛
Are you named after anyone?
Yes, a musician my mother met in Russia!
When was the last time you cried?
Huh. I think like, two months back? Trigun '98 episode 23. If you know you know. (I am wrapping u up in a blanket.)
Do you have kids?
Nope! I think I might like to be a foster parent someday, though, once I have the money and the time do it properly.
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
I- huh. I was gonna say yes, but honestly, not much in the last few years? I used to be so snarky and biting, like, all the time. It must have been really exhausting for the people around me. Now I think mostly it's just when I'm venting. Wild!
What sports do you play/have played?
I dunno if it's a sport if I don't compete but I enjoy martial arts! I do BJJ sometimes but I'm not very good at it, it's just for fun.
Oh, and I was on a basketball team for a couple years, but I'm 5'3" and still don't know the rules so I think I was mostly just just for the body count, lol
What's the first thing you notice about other people?
Demeanor. Are you calm or tense? Loose or tightly-wound? Are you likely to explode if you encounter a perceived obstacle? Are you agreeable and easygoing? Or are you pent-up and raw and itching for a fight?
God, I don't think people realize how visibly LOUD they are when they're unhappy.
Some people are like music, moving along to their own little beat or tune, and then a heavy, harsh note walks in and you just KNOW they'll fuck up the rhythm if you brush too close. It's wild. Are they aware of it? Do they care? Who knows.
What's your eye colour?
Brown! Sorta like.... hmmmm. #622a0f in the middle, with a darker ring around the outside. (Never did relate to the 'brown eyes are boring' gang, always liked mine too much. Then again, I was the only one in my family with brown eyes, so maybe it was that.)
Scary movies or happy endings?
Scary movies WITH happy endings? But no, actually, I hate watching horror movies. I LIKE them, I think a lot of them are very good and it's an underrated genre, I just. Don't enjoy being scared. Or sad.
Any special talents?
I'm an artist- I enjoy watercolor, acrylic, and India ink as painting mediums, I'm rather good at realistic stippling, I'm decent at identifying animal bones, I enjoy sculpting and sewing and needle-felting, I'm finally at a point where I like to read my own writing, I enjoy interior design and have been told I'm good at it, I'm a pretty good cook, and I've been told I'm a decent singer! I can also fold incredibly tiny origami cranes, and pick up on new languages well enough for simple use.
And I be far more proud of any number of these things if I did them a little more often.
As it is, I sleep a lot.
Where were you born?
British Columbia, Canada!
What are your hobbies?
Lord, too many. I'm actually sewing a new battle jacket right now, and animating a short video. Also writing fan fiction. And reading! And I like to collect antique books and handmade ceramics and theater masks. And go antiquing. And I'm still learning to knit? Hhhhhhhhrrrrnnggfn I wish I could have a year off to just. Do things. I wanna take a pottery class! And do metalwork again!! I used to love making chain jewelry. Oh, I do beadwork sometimes! And paint! And I'm sloooooowly designing a guest room. Bfyvxuhfhgtjggjhgyu
Do you have any pets?
Yes! Big baby bird cat. He lives out of the country now, though.
How tall are you?
160cm!
Favourite subject at school?
Art. And Metalwork. And Psychology. And Literary Analysis. (And lunch break.)
Dream job?
Okay so imagine this: There's a VERY rich eccentric hell-bent on accumulating strange art, and by some miracle they are both mentally stable and not a gigantic dickhead. They travel a lot and don't really enjoy socializing so I don't have to kiss their ass.
Twice a month I receive an automatic deposit into my bank account and in return, all they want is a reasonably steady continued production of literally whatever art. Portraits, statues, robotics, ceramics, conceptual shit, costumes, carvings, literally whatever.
And they'll cover educational expenses for it all so I can go back to college and learn screen printing and 3D animation and use the kiln and shit forever and ever, and take up apprenticeships at tattoo parlors and volunteer as a face painter and pick up photography, and just create as much beauty and love and confusion and joy as I possibly can forever and ever and ever until I die.
And I'll have enough money to own my own apartment that I'll paint in all my favourite colors, with murals and everything, and have a cat who I will of course spoil rotten, and maybe adopt a few weird and goofy kids who'll have sleepovers with their friends in the living room and play new bad music that I pretend to hate, and when they fuck up and do stupid shit like kids do, maybe I'll handle it better than my adults did.
And maybe if they like making stuff too, I can make stuff with them. And maybe I'll get to see them do it better than me. And maybe I'll get to see them do everything better than me. And maybe they'll be happier, too.
So, uh. I guess I'd like to be an artist. A sugar baby-artist? Sugar baby artist combo. I'd like to have a patron is what I mean. A sponsor. Yeah
Fifteen Mutuals*:
@Melancholysage @Genderfuckedpigeon @Raspbrrytea @Qthewhatever @Sternenhimmel-mond @Mythosandsuch @Anunholymessofagirl @Ifitistobeitisuptous
@Here-you-can-read-my-feelings @Meat-puddle @Catgirlwarrior @Rodeokid @Not-fae-no-sir @Inbox847 @Pip-53
*I have no idea if we're all mutuals but take this anyways
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I've only ever watched Robert Carlyle in ouat! What are your go to recs of other things he's been in?
Hope you're having a good day 💖💖💖
Oh man okay. I'm just gonna try to list everything I've seen (and please keep in mind that I haven't seen many of these things in forever):
-Hamish MacBeth: actually an amazing show, 100/10, so fucking good. I recommend watching at least the first ep or two with subtitles because the brogues are THICC xD
-Formula 51/The 51st State: Second on the list bc I literally just finished rewatching it, it's actually a really great dark comedy action flick. Be warned, there are two scenes of excessive blood but it's otherwise not too violent.
-California Solo: I remember this being very good and very sad. But he loves to play a SadBoi, so.
-The World is Not Enough: In general, I don't love Bond movies, but this is a pretty fun romp. The plot is somewhat convoluted, but I love Renard???? He's just. Yes. SadBoi anarchist.
-Dead Fish: Can I say this is a good movie? No I cannot. But it's so fucking fun. It's so bad. But Bobby is SO good in it. Like, every individual thing in this movie is good, but somehow they put it together and created a disaster??? It does some things that I find super narratively interesting and with some tweaking, it probably could have been an amazing movie. Maybe if Tarantino made it. But like. Danny Devine???? My love. My boy. Not a SadBoi, surprisingly. If you watch the trailer, you'll get an idea of how whatthefuck this movie is. I have seen it many times and, watching the trailer, I was still somehow like what is the plot of this movie.
-The Full Monty: Just a really good movie. Highly recommend. That is next on my rewatch list.
-Stargate Universe: IIRC, I watched about half of one season of this and didn't really love it. He was phenomenal in it, ofc, but otherwise...meh. I would rewatch it but I now watch all the other Stargates and I know this will only disappoint me x] He is a SadBoi scientist, tho.
-The Tournament: Nothing groundbreaking but, from what I remember, a solid movie! Bloody and violent. SadBoi priest. tw: a pet dies, I believe.
-Plunkett and Macleane: I remember this movie being SO fun and now I can't find it anywhere. Very unhappy about that.
-Ravenous: I wanted to add this because I know a lot of people really love it and it seems right up my alley re: dark comedy, but I am too Scared to watch it, so do with that information what you will. It is a horror comedy, I believe.
I have also watched Priest but I found that movie deeply upsetting because it contains quite a bit of CSA and I don't recommend it. Human Trafficking is also deeply upsetting, obviously, and I don't really remember it being great but I am also pretty sure I only made it through half. Annnd I haven't seen Trainspotting but it was award-winning so if that's your cup of tea, I feel confident recommending it (it is absolutely not my cup of tea xD).
So uh. There you go! The longest list ever xD
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alcoholism fairies and bad decisions
drunk dean calls to tell cas they're going to end up together. eventually. wc: 2k
"Hi, hic , Cas."
Castiel, on his end of the call, puts his mug down on the counter. Icy cold coffee, with froth on the top. If Dean hadn't called him out of the blue, he would probably have sent him a picture of it in guise of documentation - or, well, to get him to tell him how much he wished to be there and drink it with him. If Dean hadn't called him drunk, he would at least have asked him to wait until he took a picture, with the froth all perfect and frothy.
Given the circumstances, however, he sits down, and nets his eyebrows in a frown.
"Dean? You okay?"
Drunk calls weren't that rare, but they were usually pre-planned. Or at least, you know, he’s aware Dean’s drinking when it happens.
"Oh!" Dean says, voice too bright and too loud. It’s like he’s somewhere that’s making it echo. "Of course. I'm drunk."
"I can tell." Cas rolls his eyes, for absolutely no one's benefit. His coffee grows warmer, untouched. "Where are you?"
A hum resounds. "So - it's not my room. I can tell that much."
"What the -” Cas swears under his breath. “Who're you with?"
"Friends." Dean says, dismissively. "I'm safe, it's all safe. Familiar faces. I just came away for a bit because I wanted to talk to you."
At that, Cas finally lightens. Stirs his cup (still admiring). "Uh-huh?"
Friends wouldn't be enough to describe what they were. And yet - it was what either of them would've said. Rather, convinced themselves to say.
They were the video-call-at-three-am, watch-the-worst-movie-known-to-man, a-football- match-just-afterwards-where-they-root-for-the-wrong-team and go-to-bed-consoling-each-other kinda friends. The kind who had nothing in common - from colleges, to friends, to hopes and dreams - but still let themselves be strung along for the ride and stuck together for whatever it counts. Texting day-in, day-out - with any excuse to think of the other person kinda friends. And the kind who didn't even get weird about girlfriends and boyfriends - which, well, both had, respectively - because they knew nothing would ever change what they had - and nothing could ever come close.
At one point, they'd come close to dating. At two different points, they'd had larger-than-life cruhes on each other. And now? Now they just danced this familiar dance around each othis, toeing blurry lines - hands-tied behind their backs at risk of twirling too close and falling indubitably into each othis's arms.
Oh, and they lived half a country apart. Thise was also that.
"Uh-huh." Dean repeats, definitively. Then, more distracted, "Cas, the whiskey today, I swear to god . I should go get more."
"You sound pretty whiskey-ed already, just FYI."
"And you sound jealous."
"Dude, I have coffee. The Castiel-Novak special, with the expensive kind of cream and all that schtick, because Gabriel just visited." He smirks. "I do not want to be drinking evil-tasting liquid hellfire right now, thankyouverymuch ."
"Jea-lous." He sings, and Cas scoffs.
Dean hiccups again, almost like he'd forgotten he was having hiccups for a while, and then remembered again, now that there was a lull in the conversation.
"Oh, boy."
"Dean, you okay?" Cas raises his eyebrows, repeating himself. Something sounded different about that oh boy. Not very average-drunk Dean, no, it wasn't. Cas is more or less a connoisseur by now. And he prides himself on it.
"I think so."
"How do you feel now?" He asks, bordering the line of concerned again.
"Strangely happy."
There's obviously a smile in his voice when he says it. Cas smiles too. "Oh. Why?"
"'Cause I figured something out today, Cas." Dean didn't pause for questions, went on rambling. "Realized we're going to end up together. It’s final. And it's a strangely happy thought." Before Cas could say a thing, "Uh, I guess thoughts can't be happy. Or unhappy. The thought made me happy. Or not unhappy. Yeah, that makes more sense. I think."
Cas just blinks. A warm feeling starts spreading in his chest that he doesn't exactly know how to define. Or, worse, confine . "How'd you figure that out?"
Another smile in his voice, and this time, Cas can picture exactly what he looks like. Knowing, crinkled eyes, lips curled, head just a little bit quirked. (They'd only met once - a whopping 10-hour first-’non-date’-date that'd been, story for another time - but they'd been through enough movie nights at this point for him to know his I-know-what-happens-and-you-don't look.) "I'm not going to tell you."
"Wh—"
"Because, you're not drunk . So you won't get it."
"So the fairies of alcoholism and bad decisions deigned this upon you, did they?"
"Maybe." He draws out the vowels. "Point is, I know it's true. End up together, you, me. Eventually. Boom."
"Is that the sound of us having sex?" Cas snorts. The warmth has concentrated in his stomach, making it feel fluttery. He doesn't want to dwell on it too much - because he's so clearly drunk, and he has Jimmy - and things are not even that bad with him right now, really - but. But it’s not like he’s ever known how to not feel things when it comes to this dumbass.
"I know you think you're kidding," Dean interrupts him, seriously. "But you're not that far from the truth. Keep seeking it."
"The truth of the sound of us — okay. Slightly too much alcohol for you, Dean."
"Mmm-hm." Dean hums again. "Wait and watch."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" Cas mumbles, out of habit.
He knows this isn't exactly a normal conversation for them to be having - but he also can't say that it isn't something that has crossed his mind in the past.
All that chemistry - all those times he’s been complaining about something and he’s known just the right thing to say, or do, or be - and then there was that one time that they met. Cas still can’t get it out of his head. He’s always had a good memory - but this is a different level of good. Maybe it’s not entirely normal to remember what it felt like to hug his friend at the train station before he left. How they fit just right against all of you. Only maybe.
But then, it’s also impossible, right? They live hours away - and are certainly both the clingy, affectionate kind of fools who may think they can ace long-distance-relationships but are doomed from the beginning. Of course they are. Plus, he knows Dean has a girlfriend. And he has Jimmy. So yeah, things are fine right now - they’re safe, they’re innocent, okay, they’re half-innocent , half-kidding-themselves, but they’re safe and nothing is fucking them up right now. Because Cas, well, he can’t stand to lose his.
It doesn’t matter how easy it’d be to remove Dean from his life tangibly since he’s barely there at all, outside of one of his top three chats on WA at all times, and the ever-so-occasional co-movie-marathoner — none of that matters, except from the fact, that two years into this strange friendship, and he’s forgotten what life was like, before. But in a good way. In a healthy, he-gets-him, matching-wavelengths-of-weird, tries-to-make-him-a-better-person-sometimes kind of way.
So yeah, he can’t say the thought of a relationship hasn’t crossed his mind. He can’t even say that it’s ever really stopped crossing his mind. But Cas can’t have nice things, can he?
"It's an omen ."
Cas sighs. "You're so weird."
"You love me." Dean justifies, as if somehow that makes him weirder than him. It might, but Cas doesn't want to think about that right now.
"And you're a massive simp - as long as we're just stating facts."
"I am." Dean sings, again. He sounds a lot mellower now. Tuckered-out would be the word, if he wasn’t all of twenty one. He sounded ready to drift off to sleep, like that forecast had tired him out entirely. A classic drunk-Dean move, Cas rolled his eyes. "And you love me."
"Yeah, I do." He admits, a little quieter and is encouraged by another mmm-hm .
"Okay. I love you too." Scuffling sounds, as if he's getting up. Something clutters and falls, sounding queerly like stationery. So he's not outside, then . Probably in, like, a closet or something. The sound of a knob follows, and then, when he speaks, it's a lot less echo-y — with the contrast, Cas can definitely pin it to the previous place being a closet. "I'm going to go back to my friends. Amara's here too, uh, I'm definitely being rude."
(The girlfriend. Not an altogether bad person but severely, severely undeserving of him.
Dean had to know that too.)
"It's fine. You’ll make it up to them." Cas consoles, trying to avoid the strange hollowness in his gut at the mental image of him cosying up next to Amara, drunk, trying to make it up to her - okay, that’s never come up before.
(Not in this magnitude, at least.)
"Yeah, I will." he laughs. "G'night, buddy."
"Yep." Only a little miffed, Cas repeats it. "G'night."
"Don't forget, okay?"
Cas knew he'd be lucky if Dean didn't forget this entire conversation in the morning. But he didn't want to push the conversation any longer and make it weird - for him, or for Amara . "I'll try not to, but not making any promises." Dean makes a sound of affectionate disapproval, and then there's the familiar holler in the backdrop, of a group of ‘friends’ - rewelcoming his to their midst.
And that's that, for the night.
Cas stares at his coffee, now almost irritatingly room-temperature-d. Finishes it off in a gulp, while staring at his phone for good measure. Maybe the fairies of caffeinism and moderately-okay decisions would grace him with a visit, but it didn't seem very likely. Dean also doesn’t text for the majority of the night, except a view-once image of Amara's roommate licking a beer bottle (he’s made generally unfunny jokes about setting Cas up with the roommate in the past, probably playing off of that) and Cas replies righteously with eggplant emojis. He then sends a goodnight, at like six am, when Cas has already worn himself out with thoughts - and their annoying brethren, feelings - and passed out on his own couch.
Many years later - many Amara's and Jimmy's, moving-apart’s and mildly-closer’s, more degrees and a few salaries later - it happens.
(Of course, it does.)
Dean claims to have known all along. Sunday morning, breakfast-ing in bed with bread-and-jam and Castiel-Novak-specials, Dean solemnly swears he’d seen it coming. Not that he’d gone out of his way to jeopardize anything else for it, nope, but that he’s always known. “ Seriously .”
Cas laughs. Turns out, Dean didn't forget everything after all. But he did forget the call - too many inebriated misadventures in one night to recall life-changing conversations, of course - and Cas doesn't think he’ll tell him yet, that he’d known it equally long himself. Not right now , when Dean's half in his arms, Cas is halfways to shirtless, and they’re half a minute away from carefully sliding the plates and novelty mugs away to commence a different, but equally compelling Sunday-morning ritual altogether. And not when he’s this thrilled to be acting like a prophesier, an unbearable, inevitable all-knower, and the apparently- destined love of his life.
Maybe, maybe some other time.
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So, how does amatonormativity fuck a person up? (i made the aro survey)
omg okay so hi bestie sit down have some tea cause i might go on an endless rant here:
okay, so lets begin by defining amatonormativity: it is the societal expectation of everyone wanting an exclusive, long term romantic relationship and would be better off with it. some common assumptions made due to this are :
Assuming that everyone wants to get married, and unmarried/unpartnered people are unhappy or lonely
Treating romantic relationships as more important than friendships
The structuring of society around married couples (housing, taxes, etc.)
“Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend yet?” (sourced from: https://sophia.smith.edu/aace/about-asexuality-and-aromanticism/allonormativity-and-amatonormativity/)
Now, while this affects many queer identities, i can only provide an aro perspective on it.
Growing up, all around me, from as young as kindergarten, romantic relationships were prioritised. even 3 year olds who didn't even grasp the concept of romance were like, oh they're dating now, oh they're married now, etc. throughout my life, the expectation that everyone will eventually pursue a romantic relationship was a constant.
And that fucks you up.
Lets start with the fact that it forced me into thinking it would be my end all goal. i would meet a guy, have a romantic relationship, marry him, have kids, the whole package. And that led to quite a few situations where i forced myself to act like i felt romantic attraction, to convince myself to do things i was not ready for. It led to heartache and probably contributed to my depression. It led to destruction of friendships and led to an unhealthy relationship, which i will say is still affecting me. half a decade later and i still berate myself over those things, it has affected my self perception a lot.
then, when i discovered i was aro,(and its still going on tbh) it made me think i was not normal. it led to the realisation of my othering in a way, for i would never truly know what it is that society prizes and lauds so much. It led to a feeling of isolation and forced me to internalise a lot of shit, and probably bottle up things which i still haven't told anyone about.
then, the linking of my self worth with someone showing romantic interest in me. the feeling that something is wrong with me, physically, mentally, emotionally, just because someone never said hey i like you. the fear thats still within me that i am undesirable and not worthy. that even in movies the "ugly" girl sometimes ends up with a boy so why cant i? it led me to cling unhealthily to anyone who shows/ed me even a modicum of affection, to such an unhealthy degree that it destroyed a friendship, all in the wish that i was worthy of someone's love. all in the feeling that if no one likes me romantically, i do not have worth. i would be just someone people barely tolerate and leave as soon as they can.
also, as a cupioromantic: it fucks me up even more. cause i know wanting a relationship is sort of enforcing amatonormativity but fuck, it would be nice to have. and also, the fear that what will i say to an unsuspecting person, who gets in a relationship with me? with the expectation that it will be romantic? " hey sorry i can never love you romantically but i love you with my whole heart and i hope thats enough?" and then watching them leave cause if there isn't romance whats the damn point?
it hurts every time i think people getting in relationships, expecting me to relate about romantic attraction, them saying "you will also get one don't worry" them being allies but not even knowing aromantic and treating me like i'm a cold hearted monster who could never love truly and its the mourning in the corner of my heart for the fact that i can never experience what people say is a fundamental feeling and in the end,
it fucks you up.
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Imagine, Sandro stops copying Leo at some point and realizes jsut how little his brothers actually know about him.
Not even his birthday.
He gets everything set up for his birthday, only for his brothers to get home and go like "...whose birthday is it?"
Or
He thinks his brothers are pretending to not remember his birthday for the entire day for a surprise party... Only for there to be no party.
He lays awake at night, just thinking about how many milestones he never had because he was so caught up in copying Leo.
He stops being so :3 and becomes more :I
YOU GUYS WANT SANDRO TO BE SAD ABT HIS FAMILIAL TIES SO BADDDD HE'S TOO STUPID FOR THAT
i think the closest Sandy ever gets to really going "oh, shit? am i unhappy with my best friend?" about Leo is during the movie when, inevitably, Leo snaps at him while Sandro tries to help
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The Burden Of Your Pleasure | Henry Cavill One-Shot
I was feeling moody for something a little angsty but soft but still sensual and hot. Hope it comes through in the writing.
Summary : The shadow of your ex looms large, even in the bedroom. Can Henry break the spell?
Henry Cavill x Reader (written inclusively)
Word Count: 2,357
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI. low self worth, sexual dysfunction, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v
Things with Henry were so different. Shaking the toxicity of your ex was starting to feel near impossible. When Henry showered you with affection you feared a wrath would soon follow. When Henry bought you gifts, you assumed it came with a cost -- sex, appeasement, manipulation. When Henry made love to you, you assumed the singular goal was his pleasure and never your own. The truth of it was- you hadn’t yet orgasmed with Henry. You had stopped orgasming with your ex six months before the relationship ended and you’d only ever been able to feel that pleasure in solitude, at your own hand, since. You were candid with Henry upfront -- this was your dysfunction, it wasn’t him. He was more understanding that you probably deserved.
These patterns felt so deeply embedded, like they were woven in your skin. Henry was patient and kind but surely he would grow tired of your fear, your anxiety, your neediness. He claimed otherwise but you knew how men operated. You knew your inherent unworthiness. Sometimes you felt hollowed out.
You were swimming in these thoughts when Henry arrived from home. He had given you a key early on and you hesitantly accepted it, fearing an alternate motive. But it seemed he simply enjoyed your company and wanted you near. Truth be told his home began to feel like the only place you felt safe-- enveloped in his warmth even when he wasn’t there.
“How are you my dove?” he asks, planting a kiss on the top of your head and crouching to let Kal shower him in slobbery kisses. The answer to his question was complicated but not one you answered candidly. That torment was yours alone.
“I’m fine. You finished early?” you asked him with a neutral expression.
“Yes I -” he starts but stops when he sees your face. “Are you alright love?” he asks, his brows furrowing in concern. Before Henry, you thought your poker face was unmatched. Your ex never seemed to pick up on, well, anything. But Henry was more astute.
“Why do you ask?” you say, masking your thought with a smile.
“You seemed lost in thought my love,” he says, sitting beside you on the cream sofa.
“Oh I - was reading a sad book,” you said, shaking the expression loose from your face. He didn’t question further but you caught him stealing glances the rest of the evening.
After dinner, wine and a movie on the couch, you cuddled and delayed heading to bed. You wanted a moment longer in his arms - those damn arms that felt like they could cure any ailment. His finger traced the length of your arm from shoulder to elbow, your head on his chest.
“You remain a mystery to me kitten,” he says into the quiet room. You pivot to look him in face.
“What do you mean?” you ask, concern bubbling in your chest.
“I can’t seem to crawl into your head, is all, even after seven months together. Sometimes I think you’re fighting silent battles in there,” he replies, his blue eyes searching your face. He drags his thumb across the cut of your jaw and tugs your bottom lip.
“Just old thoughts knocking around. I told you Hen, these my issues to solve,” you say with more calm than you feel.
“Are you happy? With me?” he asks directly.
“Hen - yes. Yes, of course. The happiest I’ve ever been,” you rush to assure him. The idea is almost absurd-- that he might worry you’re unhappy with him. You climb off his chest to face him directly, seated in his lap. “Are you happy?” you ask quietly, fiddling with a loose thread on his sweater.
“My dearest,” he says, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, “I am complete with you. There is no other version of my life I will consider without you in it.”
“Hen,” you say softly, tears starting to form. He cups your jaw before you can continue and locks your lips in a kiss. Soft at first, peppering your mouth and face but they turn passionate - his hand firmly on the back of your head as his tongue implores your mouth for more.
“Let me make you happy my dove,” he says as his hand squeezes your breast and you know his meaning. He seeks to fulfill your deepest pleasures, the part of you that was destroyed with your ex. You want nothing more than to be drawn to ecstasy at his doing - you’d will it into existence if you could. But the hollowness follows you, a thief.
“Henry,” you start as he lifts the shirt off your body and over your head. “I am pleased in every way. It’s just th--” but he stops you with kiss.
“Ssshh sshh, I know my dove. I know it all. But please let me try. Maybe I’m a fool but I’ll be a happy fool buried in you,” he says, kisses interrupting every other word. You felt the familiar wetness in your core a his touch, his broad hands exploring every part of you as his mouth nipped at your neck. You nod at his request -- of course the answer is always yes with Henry. Yes, hold me. Yes, love me. Yes, consume me.
Holding you tenderly he lifts your form and pivots you to lay on the sofa. He gently guides your pants over the curve of your hips and does the same with your panties. You lay before him bare, feeling more vulnerable than you ever had. His hands land softly on each of your inner thighs and you feel the gentle pressure as he splays your legs open, your petals wet with desire on display. He felt you tremble, nerves overcoming you and pressure consuming you. Henry wanted this-- your body couldn’t betray you this time.
“It’s only me darling,” he says, using his thumbs to begin kneading the skin of your thighs, “there’s no pressure. Just let me take care of you.” Henry was fully clothed but the stretch of his cock strained at his pants already. He got to his knees, inches from the lips he’d never taken in his mouth before. The ones you wouldn’t let him, insisting it wasn’t worth the effort. He began planting soft kisses on the plump skin of your inner thighs. Moving closer then farther, your wetness building as he teased you. You reach your hands down and gently sink them in his thick brown locks.
After several torturous minutes, his mouth lands on your swollen lips and you gasp. His mouth, soft and wet but firm, is like a revelation on your body. You feel a tingle flash through your spine as your back arches. You feel Henry chuckle softly, the hum of his laugh on his lips giving new pleasure. He kisses you there- with the tenderness he does all over your body. You feel him begin to suck on your pearl, stars bursting behind your eyes and color flooding your face.
His tongue enters your slit as he mouths at your folds. He continues-- gentle, tender, reverent-- content to just consume you.
He doesn’t enjoy this. He’s just humoring you. You heard the nag in your head. Your pleasure was a burden to him, you were sure of it. Just as soon as the bloom in your belly began it faded. The more you grew intent to orgasm, the faster it crept away.
He continued undeterred, making a feast of your folds, a thick finger sliding in your walls.
It won’t work. Don’t make him do this. This version of the truth screamed in your skull.
He pumped his finger, adding a second for a pleasurable stretch. The heat of his mouth grew the warmth in your nub, feeling the swollen tenderness of it.
Just cum already. He can’t do this all day. Like a flame extinguished.
“Hen-” you begin, shifting your body to detach his lips from your center. You reach down to cup his jaw and guide his face to yours, taking him in a deep kiss.
“My love, please believe-” he starts but you cut him off.
“Henry, I want to feel you in me. Please Hen,” you plead, a half truth. Of course you wanted the pleasurable stretch of him but more than that you wanted to free him of the burden of your pleasure-- to prove your worth by bringing him to his pleasure.
You don’t await his reply before slinking to the floor beside him and guiding him to sit with his back against the couch. His cock strains his pants and you free it urgently, positioning yourself above him. You slide down, the familiar stretch of his thick cock on your walls, and seat yourself deeply. Your mind feels frantic, shame lapping at the edges of your consciousness. You felt broken in a fundamental way-- unable to feel pleasure at the hands of your love.
“My dove,” he says, his head bowing slightly to find your eyes. You avert his gaze, squeezing your eyes tight in mock ecstasy as you begin rolling your hips into his lap. You felt like you were performing to a clock -- the sooner you drew him to bliss the sooner you could claim any worth.
“Darling please,” he says but you ignore him, grinding harder, your hips bucking at an inconsistent pace.
“Love,” he says more directly, his hands gently gripping your hips to still you. You attempt three more feeble bucks until you still yourself and meet his gaze, tears pricking your eyes. “Ssshh sshhh,” he says, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head, his cock remaining hard inside your walls.
He remains quiet but tilts your face towards his for an affectionate kiss. He takes your arms and drapes them on the support of his broad shoulders and returns his hand to your core. His thumb anchors lightly to your nub, the rest of you full of him to the hilt.
“Hen it’s useless” you say, defeat in every syllable.
“Let me make you feel good,” he says, barely a whisper, into your ear, his thumb running agonizing circles on your clit. You move your hips to grind again, to give him what you thought he wanted, but he pauses you with his free hand. “Hold still for me love,” he says and this time you oblige him.
“I love the way your walls hold me,” he coos, his thumb drawing steady circles.
“Your swollen nub, soft and wet on my thumb,” he adds. He applies firmer pressure to your slick nub, moving it up and down on the pad of his finger.
“Look at the way your body takes me darling, everything as it should be,” he assures you. He continues this way, whispering affirmations into your ear. Willing your pleasure into existence. With each slow draw of your clit, you feel your walls clench his cock tightly. The stretch of him, buried but impossibly still inside you, felt undeniable, nearly like winding a spring.
He begins peppering your neck in kisses while his hand works you. For every kiss he utters a tribute your body-- how well it makes a home for him, how warm and soft your folds were, how your slickness was hypnotic, how it responded exactly as it was meant to.
You’re still in his lap, your eyes softly closed as you feel the soft pillow of his lips on your neck and jaw. Your arms, draped across his shoulders, feel the taught muscles of his frame. Your slit, weeping now with lust, stretched to accommodate his steel girth. And your nub, now throbbing with pleasure and alight to every touch.
Beyond belief you feel the feel the sensation of warmth pool at the nape of your neck. Your nipples pebble, brushing his hulking chest. You hear Henry stifle a small grunt, keeping to his task at hand. You feel his thumb flick your delicate pearl, the change in pattern making your breath hitch. His other hand is anchored in the hook of your leg, his fingers sunken into the supple flesh of your ass.
“My dove, you’re doing so well,” he says, the tension of your walls gripping him tighter. Surely he felt his own pleasure but remained still, denying it in pursuit of yours. And then you feel it. The bloom of pleasant warmth deep in your belly.
“Hen-” you moan, a tightrope walk you’re afraid to disrupt.
“I know darling,” he replies, hugging your body a fraction tighter, the angle shifting the weight of your pelvis more directly onto his hand. In a matter of moments, your heart is hammering in your chest and your cheeks are flushed.
“oh god, oh god, oh god Hen,” you say rhythmically to his touch.
“Cum for me my dove, let me have you,” he says with the final flick that crashes euphoria over you like a tidal wave. You yelp before hunching over onto his body, your mouth sinking onto the taut muscle of his shoulder. You feel no bodily control as your trembling rips through you. You feel speared in the belly as his rigid knot remains buried in you, your walls clenching as they hadn’t before. The sensation renews your bliss, triggering an aftershock nearly as intense of the original. You were suddenly aware of his unknowable thickness, the feeling almost turning to a sting with the compression of your clamping walls.
“Henry,” you utter, half a sob and half a mewl, nearly unable to remain upright.
“Almost there my love, hold onto me,” and you obey, leaning the remaining weight of your body onto his as you feel him buck his hips into you, grunting with pleasure and shuddering a moment later to release himself into your core. You both remain as you are, your foreheads pressed together and chests heaving with exertion.
“You’re phenomenal,” he says after a moment.
“Henry it’s you that’s phenomenal,” you reply, searching for the words to express your gratitude. “Thank you-” you begin but he stops you with a kiss.
“My dove- your pleasure is my pleasure. You are doing me a kindness by allowing me in,” he says with conviction and you believe him.
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-So I think we have everything to go, I just need to grab some more food and I think with that we could-
-Merida-
-It's fast, everyone's still asleep I just have to-
-Merida, no...
-No what?
-We're not running away
-You don't want to run away with me?
-I love you so badly that i can't go through with it, the thought of you walking away from your family and leaving everything you know because of me it makes me sick.
-So let's face my parents, okay? We will convince them that you and your family are worthy of joining our clan and we will live happily ever after in a castle or in a small cabin as those stupid love books say at the end, It'll be romantic.
-Do you love me?
-Of course I do.
-Then tell me the truth and not just something you think I want to hear. Are you 100% sure to run away tonight with me?
-N-No-no one is 100% sure of anything.
-I am, I am that sure you're something special. This is just the beginning for you. Okay? Th-That you're gonna do amazing things and that one day you will be the best queen but to get there, you have to stay here and-
-Wait a minute, wait a minute.
-Listen to me, you will learn from your mother and father and you'll be wonderful as i always knew.
-Wait a minute.
-I believe that you will marry a good man who will love and adore you and will be a good husband to your fine castle.
-Wait a minute. Are you breaking up with me?
-I'm setting you free.
-Oh, my God.
-Mer, Look, d-do you know how hard this is for me?
-No, I don't want to hear you, you won't leave me, you won't leave here, not without me.
-You don't have a choice, I can't stay, I can't be the leader of anyone and less of an entire kingdom, I'm a mess and a humble stranger from a small Viking tribe, you'll be ashamed of me-
-I love you Hicc!
-And we would quarrel and we can't help it, I'll hate the high society and you will hate the long training sessions that I'll have and we would be unhappy and we'd wish we hadn't done it and everything would be horrid
-No, it's not true, nothing you say is or will be true, I love you! Let's run away or I'll go with you! I'll go wherever you go!
-To the hooligan fleet?... Look, I-I need a chance to try to show my father and everyone what I'm capable, okay? And-
-Oh my God!, Oh, my god, wait a minute, You're joining the war? Are you' insane? I can't believe this is happening right now.
-It's also one of the places I knew you couldn't follow me. Look, you're gonna stay here, Okay? And you're gonna take the throne and you're gonna be the best queen for the kingdom... without me, that's how much I love you.
You know what we're gonna do? Surrender, I know how hard that is for you because of how hard you hold on to stuff.
But-but we're just gonna, we're gonna sit here and we're just gonna let go. Okay, and-and let the universe do it's thing. And if we're meant to be together, then we're gonna be together.
W-Whether it's in a castle or a small cabin, Okay? Will you do that with me? Will you surrender?
-I can't love anyone else Hiccup, I love you.
-And I love you Mer.
•Based by two of my favorite TV show and movie scenes. Hope you like it!
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Yes, Mr. B
This photo inspired this story. Austin is your college professor (you’re in graduate school) and well, you can guess what happens next.
“I am so nervous for my test grade” your friend, Krista says as she taps her fingers nervously against the wooden desk.
You scoff, “That test was so easy. I am sure we got A’s, stop stressing”
You unzip your backpack and take out a pencil.
“Easy for you to say, you ALWAYS do well. Me? I have to study 24/7 to even obtain a B+” she sighs and sinks back in her chair.
You roll your eyes. “Oh stop, I’m sure you did fine!”
Just then, the classroom door opens and in strolls your professor, Mr. Butler. He wore a black button down shirt today with grey slacks and black loafers. He looked expensive, as if he were a celebrity walking the red carpet. But Mr. Butler always dressed that way. Being a college professor, you always assumed Mr. Butler would walk in dressed the way some college professors dressed nowadays. Casual. Not him, he always dressed to the nines.
“Ugh, great. Mr. Butler looks mad today” Krista says as she gestures towards him. You look at him as he takes a seat and sets his bag on the table.
Not many people in the class liked Mr. Butler. A lot of them thought he didn’t take his job seriously, that he shouldn’t even be in this field. Krista always says he looks like he should be a model or movie star because he was so good looking. He never wanted to be called Mr. Butler or Professor, he preferred Mr. B, probably because it made him feel “cooler” or that he was on the same level as college kids. You never called him Mr. B, it was always Mr. Butler. You were a respectful young lady who liked to call people by their actual names. You’ve never told Krista this because of how much she disliked him but you’ve always had a crush on Mr. Butler. There was something about him that made you feel flustered whenever you were around him.
“Alright everyone, I graded your tests on the American Revolution. I have to say...I’m impressed...with most of you” he says.
He starts to walk down each row of desk handing each student their tests. Some had smiles on their faces, some with frowns. As he approaches your desk, the scent of his cologne engulfs your nose.
He looks at you and hands you your test face down. He continues down the row.
You turn over your paper and right there in big red marker was the letter C.
You gasp, you could feel tears starting to form.
“Holy shit...I got an A! How is that even possible?” Krista says showing you the test. You look at it with disbelief. You look back at yours and then at hers.
“There has to be some mistake” you say under your breath.
You look up at Mr. Butler and he’s sitting on his desk taking a look at all the students’ reactions. His eyes meet yours, they were dark and intense.
“For those of you who are unhappy with your grade, it may be in your best interest to attend office hours” he says as he doesn’t break your gaze.
You bite your lip nervously.
The class continues. You don’t ever register what he’s talking about because the big fat red letter C dominated your thoughts. You never did poorly on a test. Ever.
Soon enough, class was over and Mr. Butler dismisses the students. You gather your books and stuff them into your backpack.
“Hey, now that I got an A on this test, maybe Mr. B isn’t so bad after all” Krista whispers with a giggle.
You roll your eyes.
“[Y/N], would you mind if we had a chat?”
You turn and Mr. Butler is sitting in his chair. You smooth your skirt down and look at Krista.
“I’ll catch up with you later” you say. Krista leaves and closes the door quietly. Soon enough, the classroom is empty. Just you and Mr. Butler remain.
“You are usually a straight A student, I am quite surprised at your test grade.” he admits.
You look down at the floor and sigh.
“Truthfully, me too” you say.
He gets up from his seat and pulls an empty desk chair over to his desk.
“I’d like to go over your test grade with you. Maybe we can look at some of the questions and see where things went wrong” he smiles.
Being alone in this room with him, the intensity of your attraction to him skyrocketed. The way he sat at his desk so casually. His willingness to help you turned you on.
You sit down next to him and the electricity shocks your body.
You pull your test out of your bag and place it on the desk. He picks it up and skims through the first page.
“Did you study?” he asks, looking up at you. His blue eyes glimmered. All you wanted to do right now was kiss him.
“Of course, I always study. Mr. Butler, I know I am a good student. I really tried so hard. Maybe I got distracted” you admit to him.
He puts his hand over yours. You can feel your body becoming hot.
“Please, call me Mr. B” he says.
You look up at him and his face is inches away from yours.
“You know, I’m kind of happy you received this grade” he says.
“Why?” you ask and bite your lip. Your confidence growing as you can see he is clearly interested in you. His eyes fall to your lips and he keeps them there for a moment.
“Because” he whispers. “It gives me an excuse to see you outside of class”
You are inches away from his face now. You decide to tease him a little bit.
“Oh yeah?” you ask innocently. Your hand moves towards his belt buckle. “Why is that?”
He looks down and watches your hand as you place it on top of his grey slacks. You could feel his erection growing.
His lips brush against your cheek. “Because I want to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before”
You breathe in slowly and move your lips towards his. You close your eyes and lean in.
“Do it” you groan.
He kisses you passionately. The fiery feeling inside of you grows. He keeps kissing you as you quickly get out of your chair and get on top of him.
“You walk in here with your short skirt today” he says as he plays with the fabric. “Fuck, you almost made me cum in the middle of class”
He moves his hands towards your tank top and pulls the straps down.
You caress his cheek and look into his eyes.
“Did you ever think that I wear them just for you?” you say and lean into kiss him. He moans and unclips your bra. “Fuck” he says taking in the sight of you.
His hands grabs your tits and he sighs.
“I shouldn’t even be doing this, I’m your teacher” he says realizing that maybe this really isn’t a good idea. He loosens his grip on you a little bit and retreats his hands to his side.
You grab his hands and place them back on your tits.
“I don’t care what you are. I want you to fuck me” you say and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t stop. His tongue exploring your mouth, his hands gripping you tightly.
You start to unbutton his shirt and pull it back slightly exposing his chiseled chest.
“Fuck, [Y/N]. You make me so hard” he says.
You stand up and start to shuffle out of all your clothes. He watches you intently as he pulls off his slacks and pulls his dick out of his boxer briefs.
“Get up on the desk” he whispers.
You get up on the desk like he says and he spreads your legs apart.
“Jesus Christ” he groans. “You’re so sexy”
You giggle and toss your hair to the side. You felt on top of the world. You couldn’t believe it. This was something you’ve only seen in porn. You couldn’t get over that a man as sexy as him wanted you.
He gets closer to you and slowly pushes his cock inside.
“Fuck” he says once he fully entered you.
“Fuck me hard” you command.
He looks at you with a smile. He starts to pound away. The desk moving little by little at the power of his thrusts.
“You like the way my cock feels? he asks breathless.
You try to nod. “Yes, Mr. B” you manage to say.
He pulls you closer to him and kisses you.
“That’s it, right there” you say. You bring your hand to your clit and start to rub it.
“Oh my god” he says watching you pleasure yourself.
“Don’t stop” you say as he continue to fuck you senselessly.
Your eyes meet. There was a sense of ferociousness in them. Animalistic. You could tell how much you turned him on. How untouchable he thought you were because you were his student. But in the end, you were his. You melted at his touch. The way he looked at you. You didn’t care if he was 31 and you were only 24. For god’s sake, people did this stuff all the time. Age didn’t matter. Status didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were being pleasured by a man who made you feel wanted.
“You’re so fucking hot” he says as he continues. His hand intertwining in your hair.
“I’m gonna cum” you say tilting your head back.
“Oh yeah? Cum for me” he says. He pounds harder and you could feel your body buckle.
Watching you in this state, it made him harder. He had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. He wanted more.
You both ride out your orgasms together. You moan as he pulls out of you to release himself into your mouth.
“Fuck” you pant as you gather your clothes together.
He moves some hair out of his face. “That was so fucking hot”
You giggle and hand him his pants. “Your pants, Mr. B”
He takes them into his hands and looks at your flirtatiously.
“Call me, Austin” he smirks.
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HC’s for Post Option C Trikey
Hey, everyone! This is nothing too formal or well written— just some thoughts put down. All mistakes are mine because I didn’t reread this at all. Trigger warnings for mentions of violence and canon compliant themes. Here’s some Trikey + a bit of Amanda/Mike/T friendship.
Michael and Amanda’s divorce is rather amicable despite years of prior arguing.
Neither want to admit their marriage is over—both worried about the kids’ reactions. But they know it’s in everyone’s best interest.
Amanda moves out of the house, opting for a beach front property like she once asked Michael for months before.
Mike decides to stay at the house for now, even if it reminds him of what a lonely, washed-up jock he really is.
It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s never home. Instead, he spends his time at the movie studio, threatening actors and crew alike (because old habits die hard, right?).
If he accidentally hits too hard and the actor just doesn’t wake up…well, who can blame him?
The rest of his time is spent in the company of Franklin, Trevor, and Lamar.
“Jesus, sugar tits. You finally have time for us outside of kissing Solomon Richards’ ass.”
“Oh, bite me, T,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as he slides into the backseat of Franklin’s car. “I’ve been busy doing my job on set.”
“Well, sorry! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a huge celebrity.”
Franklin slams on the brakes, the car coming to a halt in front of the stoplight. “Man, if y’all two don’t shut the fuck up, I’m dropping you both off.”
In hindsight, maybe things don’t seem that different between him and Trevor after The Big One. But he knows something has changed.
Trevor’s insults and quips don’t pack as much punch; they don’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
And Michael? Well, he stops regulates how many times he calls his former running buddy a psycho.
Their tentative friendship rebuilds for the most part, but there’s still an added component that neither party wants to speak aloud. That, or maybe it was a returning feeling resurfacing from their youth.
Either way, Michael tries to let it go and focus on making himself semi-happy for once. However, he doesn’t factor in until later that maybe he’s been so damn unhappy for the last 10 years because of a certain murderous, incest-loving hipster.
Michael feels his heart jump out of his skin as he turns around to see Trevor leaning against the glass outside of his house. He watches Trevor give a small salute before walking over to let the taller man in.
“You can’t knock on the front door like a normal human being?” Michael asks, his voice dripping with mild annoyance. “What am I saying? Of course you can’t.”
“For your information, pork chop,” Trevor starts, walking straight past Michael to look through his fridge, “I do this to keep you young— keep you on your toes.”
He watches Trevor pull out the soup container they made a few days prior while hanging out. Like a reflex, he opens the drawer and pulls out two spoons while they wait for it to heat up in the microwave.
“Yeah, whatever. What are you even doing here anyway?”
“Can’t a guy come see his best friend without there being a reason? Not all of us are looking to gain something from their relationships, sugar.”
Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, T. When are you going to let it go? Just once I’d like to spend time with you without thinking of our past. I said I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Trevor’s eyes find his, and surprisingly, there’s nothing but understanding in them. They hold each other’s gaze a moment too long until the microwave’s beeps fill the quiet room.
Their companionship settles into a routine that even surprises Michael himself. Food will be cooked together, movies will be watched, bikers will be shot (you can’t blame Mike for getting involved sometimes most times— it’s in his blood).
The taller man’s presence becomes so normal in Michael’s life that even Jimmy and Tracey aren’t surprised to see Trevor walking throughout the house when they’re visiting.
If Michael didn’t know any better, he’d say the kids even missed their uncle— enough to visit the Rockford Hills house even when Mike himself wasn’t there.
“Argh! This game fucking sucks!”
Michael’s lips twitch into a small smile as he heads up the stairs towards Jimmy’s room. The sight in front of him doesn’t surprise him all that much considering Trevor’s cursing could likely be heard from across the street.
Michael stops at his son’s doorway, watching him and Trevor furiously tapping on controllers to try and shoot the on-screen targets.
“Uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up, cringing at the screen. “You’re standing too close to the bomb, you’re going die if you don’t—”
The blood of Trevor’s character splatters across the screen before Jimmy starts laughing uncontrollably.
“Shut the fuck up, kid! C’mon, Mikey. Let’s go do something actually worth our time.”
Michael chuckles, reaching over to fist bump Jimmy, before leaving the room with Trevor.
He’s not sure when it happened—or why— but every time he looks at Trevor and his kids while they’re together, he can’t help but think of them as a family.
Sure, Trevor is already family. His kids call him Uncle T for a reason. But that’s not what Michael means. He sees them as his family. Trevor, Michael, Jimmy, and Tracey— a family.
It could be the people of Los Santos getting inside his brain with their comments and assumptions. Every time the pair go out with the kids, there’s at least one person who calls them a “two-dad family.”
For some reason, though, it doesn’t bother Michael like it used to. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore, like he’s cheating on Amanda.
After realizing that, it hit him harder than Martin Madrazo’s baseball bat. He loves Trevor. He’s in love with Trevor, and he probably always has been. Why else would he feel like he’s doing something wrong to Mandy every time he’s with him?
He doesn’t want to even think about telling his friend, but he also knows he wants to be done keeping secrets from him forever. And apparently, he’s done keeping secrets from everyone.
“Dad,” Jimmy starts off nervously from his side of the couch. “So, like, can I ask you something?”
Michael shoots him a weary look. “If this is about me buying you that new game, I already told you no Jim.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s more, ya know, personal.”
The silence drags on as Michael waits for Jimmy to continue, but he never does. “Spit it out already.”
“Look, are you and Uncle T, like, closer than you were before the divorce? You know, closer. Because, like, that’s totally cool with me. I have gay friends now, and I guess it’s better than you staying with mom and cheating. Maybe you and uncle T can, ya know, keep each other alive and shit but—”
“What? Jim! No! Trevor and I aren’t…”
Jimmy interrupts him. “But you want to be?”
“When did you get so observant all of a sudden? You sound like a fuckin’ psychologist.”
“Well, pop, you raised me in Los Santos.”
Jimmy, much to Michael’s embarrassment, prodded at him until he agreed to talk to Trevor about the “issue.”
It takes Michael another month, plus one more terribly uncomfortable conversation with Jimmy, to confess to Trevor.
“Christ, T. I think it’s possible that maybe…”
“I’ll be dead by the time you finish your sentence, sugar.”
Michael sighs. “Have you ever thought that there might be more to this?”
“More—” Trevor groans. “Can you just say what you mean for once in your life?”
“I love you, you asshole.”
Horns honking and police sirens can be heard from outside as the room becomes eerily quiet. Before Michael can truly panic, Trevor leans forward so fast that Mike’s sure he’s about to slam his head into his nose, but the searing pain never comes.
Instead, Trevor’s lips push against his while his hands tug Michael’s hair to bring him closer.
It’s cliché. It’s really fucking cliché. But, for once, Michael feels like he’s doing something right for a change.
“I love you, Mikey.”
After that, not much changes really. The only difference is that, now, when Trevor comes over after a long day of doing God knows what, Michael gets to sit on the couch wasting away with his boyfriend’s head lazily rested on his shoulder.
Or, sometimes, between his legs.
Telling Franklin and Lamar ended up being easy. Neither was all that surprised. In fact, Lamar even tried to start a bet once about when they’d “stop sucking as people and start sucking each other,” but Franklin put a stop to that real quick.
Other than that, Frank was supportive.
“I’m happy for you, dog. Maybe now you’ll stop being so miserable.”
Michael smirks. “I don’t know, but I think this is a good start.”
Telling Amanda and the kids was…interesting.
Jimmy, of course, knew already. But he was surprised that his dad actually grew the balls to do it.
Tracey was a little more shocked; she always thought the jokes about her dad and Uncle T were just that— jokes. Plus, she worried that her dad had been cheating before with him, but they assured her that wasn’t the case.
Tracey tried to act a little stubborn just in case her mom wasn’t okay with the relationship, but she was secretly happy for them.
Amanda, having found her own happiness outside of Michael, took it rather well too.
“This just started, right? You weren’t…together…during our marriage?”
“No, Mand,” Michael reassures her before sparing a glance at Trevor who is across the room talking to Tracey and Jim. “I only just realized it.”
“Well, I always wondered why on Earth you would stick by his side through some of the shit he has done,” Amanda says, her voice growing softer. “And now I know.”
Michael lets his gaze move back to his ex-wife’s. “I’m sorry I was such a prick to you.”
“I wasn’t perfect either.”
He’s about to respond when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. He looks up to see Trevor hovering above him while looking at Amanda.
“Hey,” Trevor points a finger at her. “You better accept his apology or I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of the year.”
Michael watches Amanda actually crack a smile towards Trevor. “He was always really miserable. But, lucky for me, he’s your problem now.”
Michael scoffs. “Hello, I’m right here!”
“Yeah, we know. It’s hard to miss you, pork chop.”
Despite Trevor’s remarks, Michael can hear the man’s smile as he walks back over to join Tracey and Jim, and that makes the sides of his lips curl into a small smile too.
“I’m not going to say I understand it completely,” Amanda admits. “But if you’re happy, then I’m glad.”
“I am. I think I finally am.”
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