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pftones3482 · 3 years ago

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Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

#percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #my writing #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo

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writesowhatnext · 5 years ago

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our paradise, poisoned // sirius black

Summary: reader & sirius are in a toxic relationship: they argue all the time and hurt each other compulsively. Is this their last argument?

Request: Reader x Sirius ANGSTY imagine based on the song 'Another Love' (Tom Odell I thought) , Post-Hogwarts a couple years. Y/n and Sirius are together and live together but things have become really toxic between them, they're always arguing over everything, he's flirting with other girls and cheating on her, he comes home smelling like other girls perfumes and it just gets worse and worse until they have a messy breakup! ANGST ending please :) Thank you!

A/N: got this was so hard to write bc I’m a slut for a happy ending but holy cow angst is cathartic

Reader: female

Warnings: toxic relationships, sad omg, slightly nsfw, sex talk, swearing, cat-calling, angst

Sirius had left over an hour ago with the door slamming behind him. You didn’t know where he was going but you could guess. You saw the way he stared at other girls; you knew the smell on his skin. You felt sick at the thought of it. As you sat on the floor in your hallway, knees brought to your chest and cheeks stiff with dried tears, you stared at the photo hung on the wall. It was only three years old, but the gilded frame was dusty and untouched. It was taken the day you moved into the house. You barely recognised the smiling faces in it anymore. He was holding you in his arms, his smile wide and bright whilst you laughed at something he’d said, head tipped backwards.

It used to be his favourite picture. You used to love each other.

In a twisted way, you still did. Every time you argued, every time the door slammed, every time you slept alone, your heart broke a little bit more. And then it numbed. Every time you thought you’d run out of tears, there were more to come. Every time you thought he’d hurt you the worst he ever would, he proved you wrong. That’s not to say you didn’t pull your weight. You remembered the look on his face the first time you’d brought up his mother in an argument; you’d never wanted to hurt him like that but you couldn’t deny the horrible relief at the pain in his eyes. You were glad, actually, that you could hurt him as much as he’d hurt you. You were glad he cared enough for your words to still sting. You regretted it now, though, sat on the floor of your home on your own.

You weren’t always like this: he used to bring you daffodils every day; you used to cook dinner together and dance; you’d laugh together always; the safest you’d ever felt had been in his arms. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been there, now. You couldn’t remember what it felt like. You still fucked, though, sometimes. He used to love you, properly, but there was nothing but hatred now. You used to cuddle afterwards; he’d place kisses into your hair and onto your skin. And now even when his body was hot against yours, it was cold. You didn’t look at each other in the eyes anymore. You were scared, honestly, of what you would see. Whether you were more afraid of his hatred or your own reflection, you didn’t know. And so, you sat there, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath you, scared and hurt.

It had been months since the last time Sirius had acknowledged you at all. It was your anniversary and you’d gone out to eat. It had been a sordid affair, lifeless and empty. He’d paid, which would’ve been nice, had it not just been out of habit. His eyes had lingered on the waitress. You noticed. When you left, the silence between you was loud and heavy. You walked a foot apart; no one could mistake you for lovers. That might’ve been why the guy shouted at you from the doorway of an abandoned building.

“You alright, sugar tits?”

Your mood soured even further. You just ignored him, but for some reason, he rubbed Sirius the wrong way. Sirius broke his left hand that night, defending your honour, you would’ve said in the past. Now you didn’t know why. You’d wrapped his bruised hand in bandage in an uncharacteristically soft moment for the two of you. It didn’t last. You’d cried during sex that night. You hoped he didn’t notice. The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed again.

Clenching your jaw, deciding you’d had enough, you walked upstairs and into your bedroom. You began to pack a bag, shoving clothes into a rucksack and occasionally wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You thought about when you first met. You were just kids, only seventeen-years-old and partners in Potions. He was absolutely useless, but recklessly charming despite himself.

“Have you tried reading the textbook upside down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. He opened his mouth indignantly, turned to you with his eyebrows dark and furrowed. And then the corners of his mouth lifted.

“You’re making fun of me.” He realised, suddenly curious about you.

“I am making fun of you.”

“Well, two can play at that game, Y/N.”

You’d been thick as thieves ever since. You got along with his friends and they enjoyed how happy you made him. You’d been so in love that you moved in together straight after you’d graduated; you had no idea what you’d become after that photo was taken just outside, on the driveway.

You were so immersed in your reverie that you hadn’t noticed the front door shut.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked, standing in the doorway.

Your chest tightened. You bit back a bitter, sacrastic remark, eyes on the bag in front of you.

“I’m leaving, Sirius.”

“What?” he asked, stepping closer. You could smell the perfume on him. It wasn’t yours. “You can’t be serious.”

Your heart clenched. He’d probably ruined that sentence for you for life.

“We can’t carry on like this.”

He was silent for a moment.

“So, you’re just going to- just fucking leave?” he ran a hand through his hair. “Give up on us?”

“There is no us,” you said, finally turning to him. “There stopped being an ‘us’ a long fucking time ago.”

His eyes were dark and shiny with tears. He looked angry. Frustrated. He scoffed.

“Of course, you’d say that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means this is what you do, Y/N. You give up on things.”

“How dare you.” you watched him laugh sardonically. “How can you say that to me when you’re the one out with other girls?”

He watched your face, he’d hurt you enough times to recognise the way his words changed the shape of your lips, the angle of your brow. He regretted every decision he’d made to lead him to this moment. You, standing across from him, like this.

“Oh, we both know I’m not the only one.”

“Fuck you, Sirius. I would never hurt you like that.”

“Get off your high horse, Y/N.” he spat. “You used everything you could to hurt me.”

You couldn’t deny that. You remembered the arguments.

“Why do you care then? Why do you give a shit if I’m leaving?” Your eyes were wild. Why did you want him to say he loved you? It’s not like it would make it any better.

“Where will you go?”

“Does it fucking matter? Away from here.”

“I’m so sorry living with me was so fucking hard for you.”

He clenched his jaw as you turned to face him again. You ran a shaky hand through your hair before pointing a finger at him. He could see the tears brimming. He wanted to stop so badly. He couldn’t.

“Don’t make it seem like you didn’t notice. I’ve cried every night for the last month. We argue all the time. All the time, Sirius.” He opened his mouth but you cut him off. “We argued last week about who forgot to buy milk even though I didn’t care. We argued yesterday, even, about arguing.”

He knew you were right. It didn’t matter though. He was so tired of all of it but he couldn’t stop himself. He had to show he cared somehow.

“I don’t know what happened to us,” you said, somewhat resigned to the fate of your relationship now. “I’m sorry it ends like this.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to walk out after everything.” He watched you pick up your bag, letting you move past him. He followed you down the stairs. “Don’t you care at all?”

“Of course, I care.”

“It doesn’t bloody look like it.” Sirius shouted, stopping behind you. He grabbed the picture off the wall.

“You were everything to me, Sirius.” You looked down at the picture in his hand; he just stared at your face. “You still are.”

“Then why are you leaving me?” he said softly. His anger dissipated for a moment and you were met with the young boy you’d seen so many years ago. His eyes were full of unshed tears and his chest was almost heaving with emotion. The foolish part of you had hope. You reached over to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind his ear. When he flinched away, your heart broke and what little remained for you in that house died with it.

“Because I have to.”

You wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to give him everything. But you didn’t have anything left to give. You were just an empty shell. You stopped at the front door, sniffling as your tears really started to flow. You heard the sound of the picture hitting the floor, dropped from Sirius’ hand as he sunk to sit on the stairs. You wanted to tell him you loved him and that you always would, that you were sorry for a thousand things. You couldn’t. You opened the door and walked out. You just kept walking. You know that if you stopped, you’d turn back.

Sirius sat on the stairs with his head in his hands for hours. He stopped crying eventually, running out of tears. His eyes stung and his chest ached; he’d nearly pulled his hair out. He sat there, emptier than he had been for a while as he picked up the metal picture frame. He tipped the broken glass onto the ground, looking at the photo inside. It hadn’t been that long ago, not really. But somehow it had been forever. He couldn’t tell, sitting there on the stairs, whether he loved you or hated you, but he figured that, as it had been for a while, the answer was both.

#Sirius Black imagine #sirius black x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #writing #imagine #sirius black #marauders imagine #marauders

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transformers-valiant-keepers · 4 years ago

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I put so much investment into Roxie and Dadlock lately (I’m sorry) and it's all I ever think about them bc who doesn't love found family tropes. For TFTN, I took in key elements of characters, backstory and lores from IDW and incorporated the ideas into my own for TFTN.

I’ve been listening to Lasting Impression by Silent Descent when writing up Dadlock’s life (which probably fitting).

Trigger warnings for mentions of discrimination, drug use, implied dubcon, medic, shadowplay / mnemosurgery(?), child abuse, depression, implied suicide, ptsd trauma(?).

I’ll put all of this under readmore

I've been thinking about how much similarities between Roxie and Drift in having to hide certain things about themselves from the society--with Roxie being deaf who has to constantly cover her hearing aids with her long hair, and Drift was a forged triple changer.

Triple changers cybertronians bear the brunt of discriminations for being so different and the Functionalist Council saw them as a threat to Cybertron's future and the caste systems. Techno-organics also shared the similar reaction for being much different from others and were turned away by Functionalist medics.

It was pretty telling what Drift had gone through in his life… Before Roxie was constructed with his spark, before the Greatsword connected to his spark while unaware of the intentional true purpose in store for him and Roxie later on, and before Dai Atlas took him in to the Samurai clan.

He did not start off as a good life living on the streets and homeless on Rodion. He was an independent, mostly kept to himself, barely opening up to anyone. He endured survival instincts living on the streets, and learnt self-defence battle protocols to defend himself when necessarily.

Obtaining Energon for refuel wasn’t easy. He went through a dark place of sleeping rough, hooked on circuit boosters to spare the pain and selling himself for Energon through sexual activities. It wasn’t his choice nor how many times had he lost count when he came close to almost-deactivation from certain outcomes.

He never forgot the time he visited the medibay clinic to be patched up and to feel safe. That was the first time he saw Ratchet.

It was not the vivid life Drift wanted to remember for discussion. He spared the dark details of his early life and post-Shadowplay-to-Autobot’s assassin era from Roxie, because it’s not something he wanted to subject her to that exposure, even for one so young and carefree who was not exposed to the Functionalist era. He only shared his life after Dai Atlas approached and took him in, which changed his life completely, to his life amongst the Samurai clans. Dai Atlas was the closest thing he would call to a Sire. He became familiar with the likes of Cyclonus and Axe.

Axe and Cyclonus became his best friends who later became his Amica Endurae. Axe does not understand the life Drift went through--he had experienced living rough--but he was the only person he could trust enough to vent to. Cyclonus, on the other hand, understood what he went through and offered her shoulder for him to vent.

Crystal City was the safest place it had been in so long for Drift, not counting the fact a particular medical clinic had been relatively safe away from the backend alleys. Everything was good afterwards, he became a trained swordmech. It takes some adjustment for him to get used to sleeping in an actual berth provided for his own amongst other things--including Energon for refuel and to live. He did meet Ratchet, despite them having met long before when Drift lived on the rough streets.

Drift received upgrades to his frame, putting the past behind him to start anew under Dai Atlas’ mentorship, and touching the Greatsword had given him a second chance to move on from his past (obvious to the fact that the Greatsword had chosen him for a reason, or what fate had in store for him).

Becoming a Samurai was the best life-changer for him.

The Functionalists Council had arranged for Drift to be taken and captured (all the while, Pharma had secretly played a part in it) and was taken straight to the Institute where he was subjected to Shadowplay against his will.

Many years later, he eventually discovered Roxie’s existence… and somehow learnt she is his Kindred. And that instinct promptly activated his paternal Sire Coding within both his and Deadlock alter-ego’s programming.

Life for Drift was royalty fucked up after Shadowplay had changed him into a deadly, fearless assassin with Emperor Nemesis as his handler (this was revealed in Prologue Part One). He was not known as Drift, he became Deadlock--likely a case of an alter-ego formed as the result from his traumas. Before all that discovery, he met Windblade and Perceptor who became two important figures in his life and opened up his spark. As a reminisce of his early days forcing to hide the fact he’s a triple changer, Windblade had to hide her cityspeaker ability whereas Perceptor had to hide his outlier ability and refrained himself from reading others’ thoughts. They hid this from the Functionalists and found themselves form a connetion with Drift after he saved them from unforseen situations. Drift knows what it’s like to hide and pretend, and sworn to sercery to keep both Windblade and Perceptor safe. He fell in love with Windblade and Perceptor--with an emotional deep connection with the young cityspeaker and scientist--but he never got to tell them both after they got separated apart from each others.

Roxie was constructed cold with her spark being a donor from Drift’s, thus forming a strong bond between the two--such bond between a Sire and a Kindred are considered rare in some cases. This is known as Cognatio Endurae.

Though, Roxie… didn’t have a good start after being subconsciously locked away in a stasis pod by the Emperor’s doings. The sad thing is? Drift does not know whether she was physically abused constantly through the bond whenever he was resistant against being controlled, or forced to obey commands, or goes against authority orders--and the thought alone had really broken him.

He tried to save her the first time but was caught out and forced to watch in horror as The Emperor abused Roxie in front of his optics--which played into the triggers whenever he saw Roxie was harmed and he shifted into his Deadlock persona way later on. Yes, Drift and Deadlock alter ego both genuinely care for Roxie.

Techno-organics were not well-known to Cybertronians until the 22nd or 23rd Century, but one with an organic human DNA is considered rare. Now for Roxie, being a techno-organic and all… it wasn't easy to bring her up. Drift is new to parenting and can be a worrywart over her. His past actually helped him to adapt and care for her--he eventually grows into a better person than he used to be.

Though, what Drift never prepared for… was Roxie diagnosed with severe hearing loss, aka Deaf / Hearing Impaired, in both audial receptors. He went as far to start his research and how to help her. He is patient and relied on the bond to communicate with her, he taught her to lipread--because he had little knowledge of sign languages. Once they get their servos on functioning Hearing Aids for her, she can hear their voices. It wasn't the best or helpful to her, Drift was relieved she was responsive to his voice like a sense of familiarity to her.

Due to the immense strong bond and prioritising Roxie first before himself, Drift turned off his pain sensors to take in the burdens and sensed her emotions and pains.

But her upbringing had its moments. Roxie hated hearing tests. It made her extremely stressed over the noise levels and the lowest ringing noises were the worst of all. She was a victim to disability discrimination by society, which she was completely shunned out and struggled to make any friends. It did hurt her and her hearing wasn't perfect that the kids relentlessly teased her for her difficulties--the aftermath forced her to cover ears and hearing aids with her long hair to hide her disability.

She was dejected and left out, unsure whether to question where she would fit in in this universe. Drift sensed this coming through the bond and tried his best to comfort her as a father wanting to understand her. Roxie’s struggles with deafness had impacted on her mental health and she went through a dark place succumbing to negative voices and far too anxious to socialise with anyone.

She would cry herself to sleep with a wish how badly she wanted to hear, and bottled all of her emotions and issues to herself. She found it completely hard to talk or open up about her feelings--even to Drift and Axe. Such intrusive thoughts prone her despair into an emotional crying mess leading to Drift exposed his spark chamber to guide and soothed Roxie out of an anxiety attack keeping her focus onto his calming, pulsing spark and enfolded within his EM field filled with nothing more than a comforting familial love.

Suffice to say, Drift had coaxed gently, without pressuring her, got her to open up to him and listened to her confide in him. One time, she accidentally slammed Drift’s doorwing, which was very sensitive, when her emotions got the best of her during an outburst and of course, Roxie felt completely bad afterwards.

Meeting new people was difficult for her, much less making new friends without the unnecessary attention from adolescent organic males. Due to the society looking down on disabled people, Roxie doesn’t want to let anyone in, something that was passed on from her Sire, without putting her guarded wall down and succumbing to heartaches. She stayed--remained--close to Drift and Wing. She trusts them and they’re the only ones she relied heavily on for their support and speak on her behalf.

Beyond that, there were complications on their welfare over the years hiding on Earth, especially when Roxie’s health was concerned. Her height growth was stunted and slowed throughout her activated age. (At eighteen activated age as example, she stood at 5ft 4in). However, there’s major issues Drift and Axe had to deal with rationalizing Energon usage after the first time they watched Roxie overcome with extreme fatigue from low Energon. They were alerted by this despite the three of them living pretty rough to hide out on Hedonia without detecting the Autobots--they moved from one hideout to another, erasing their presence from their previous accommodations. Moving to a new place made Roxie unsettled the first few nights.

Drift’s early life resurfaced given the living arrangements on Hedonia, he was willingly to sacrifice his Energon for Roxie and replenish her energy and to avoid her body going into stasis shock. He had considered an Energon transfer reserved for emergencies only just for Roxie alone, and the process was risky that Axe had berated him for it on a dangerously low Energon withdrawal. Axe could understand due to Energon being scarce and trying to save as much credits that he had gone further to search and provide fuels for the three of them to survive.

Had they lived on Cybertron, specifically in the roughest places, Drift would’ve given away a full Energon to Roxie and spared little usage for himself to live through another day.

"A good Sire would do anything for their Kindred" Drift told Axe. And the truth is, Roxie was a beacon of light to Drift through the darker aspects of his life, even with being there for her through her low days.

That's as far I've written from my head about these two and I'm having many feelings over these two.

#tf nexus headcanon #ch: drift/deadlock #oc: roxana valiente

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lemonwritesstuff · 4 years ago

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safety pin (ow highschool au)

summary: jesse and genji make a promise to each other and maybe, this time, two wrongs will make a right. read it on ao3

a/n: this is very based off the song safety pin by 5 seconds of summer bc im on a mcgenji and old 5sos kick rn. Featuring an american high school written by a british first year college student. Also jesse and hana are jack and gabes kids ok good cool also genji is trans and lucio is enby ok bye

genji and jesse use he/him, hana uses she/her and lucio uses he/they

Ships: mcgenji, a sprinkling of bunnyribbit and background reaper76

word count: 1.2k (this is the longest fic i’ve ever written holy shit)

tw for mentions of transphobia and gender dysphoria/ self deprecating talk

Jesse just wanted to get to his locker. But instead, he was greeted with a crowd of people shouting horrible things at someone. Upon further investigation, he saw two people being targeted. And when the taller boy saw the green, he knew it was Genji and Lucio.

Genji could usually stand up for himself, so why wasn’t he?

Before anything could happen physically, the vice principal, Jack Morrison, appeared with his husband and head of phys ed, Gabriel Reyes, in tow. They were the teachers in charge of the GSA and they were also Jesse’s parents. They both knew how much Genji meant to Jesse, and how much Lucio meant to Genji so they were always first to take their side whenever anything happened to them.

“Get to class, all of you!” Jack shouted, his voice laced with anger but also an attempt to stay professional. Gabe weaved through the crowds in an attempt to get them to disperse, before he caught the dickheads responsible.

“Principal's office. Now” Gabe scowled, his voice also laced with anger.

As the crowd cleared, Jack spotted Jesse and Hana, worry plastered on their faces.

“Jesse, Hana, stay here.” he said, his voice much softer. He had a soft spot for any of the kids in the GSA, he’d been in their position years ago and was glad to give them the help he wished he had. At this point, the GSA was just the entire queer population of the school and no allies, but that was fine. They could all just unapologetically be themselves, without the fear of judgement. The GSA was the safest place in the school to be for them.

“I’ll let your teachers know what's gone on and have them mark you in for the rest of the day but you don't have to go to class.” He was addressing the four of them now, voice still soft but laced with concern for the green duo. “I’ll write you all hall passes but you’re free to sit in our room if you want to. I’ll also notify all staff about what’s happened and I’ll be in my office if any of you need me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” the four of them said in somewhat unison. Once Jack had walked off, Hana rushed over to Lucio, who was leaning against the wall and still shaking from the encounter.

“Lú! Are you ok?” Hana asked, concern now laced through her voice. She cradled Lucio’s head in her hands, rubbing away their tears.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Hana. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I guess I deserve it, wearing a skirt to school” they replied. Being one of two openly trans people in the entire school was bound to go wrong at some point.

“Shut it, dingus. We both know you don’t deserve it. It’s not our fault people are transphobic assholes.” Genji chimed in.

“Exactly!” Hana said. “Now, let's go sit in the room and fix your makeup. You deserve to feel pretty, baby.” With that statement, the pair set off, hand in hand, to the room that GSA meetings were held in, leaving Jesse and Genji alone in the hallway. Genji was still processing what happened but Jesse pulled him back to reality.

“Our spot?” Jesse asked, voice quiet in order to not disturb the students learning in the class opposite them. Genji just nodded, and after Jesse got his bag from his locker (which was the only reason he was in that part of the school anyway), they set off toward the exits.

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“Thank god I got some snacks, I forgot we were gonna have a shorter lunch. I’m starvin’.” Jesse started, plonking himself down on the ground with Genji following suit opposite him. “You ok darlin’? Ya still look scared. How come ya didn’t stand up for yourself? I know you can, the entire grade has seen ya do it before.” Genji chuckled and sighed, before replying.

“I was already having a bad enough day with my dysphoria and I was talking about it with Lucio when someone overheard us and.. yeah.”

“Oh, baby, I-”

“No, it’s fine.” Genji said, cutting Jesse off. “They’re right, I’m not a real man and never will be. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to break up with me, Jesse.” Genji couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and before he could say anything, he was in Jesse’s arms. One of the few places he felt safe. One of two places where he could exist without judgement.

“Dumplin’, I know it’s hard but please never believe anything those assholess say. You’re not only a man, but you’re MY man and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing will ever change that. Ever. They’re just asshats that lack so much self confidence that they tear others down.” Jesse said softly, cradling his lovers face in his hands, wiping away tears.

Genji melted at any nickname Jesse gave him, especially dumpling. It came from an in-joke on their first date, where Genji had compared himself to a dumpling, small and bite sized (compared to Jesse anyway) and the nickname stuck ever since.

“Do ya want me to do anything, darlin’?” Jesse murmured, rubbing circles on Genji’s back in an effort to calm his tears.

“No, this is fine for now.” Genji barely whispered, not even daring to look up at the brunette. Just as Jesse was about to reply, his phone pinged.

buncha fuckin misfits

padre: the dickheads have been dealt with and they’re outta here

gaymer gorl: good riddance lmao

boy scout lookin ass: those kids have done this multiple times and i’m surprised it took this long to expel them

boy scout lookin ass: how are gen and lú by the way?

gaymer gorl: i redid Lú’s makeup and they’re back to lookin fabulous!

yee to the haw: just givin’ gen some cuddles, he was already havin’ a bad day with dysphoria and he just needs some convincin’ that he’s stronger than he thinks. he’ll be ok :)

With that, Jesse shut off his phone and turned his attention back to the green haired boy in his arms. The brunette ran his hands through the sea of green hair beneath him, letting out a low whistle when he realised how soft it was.

“I redyed it last night” Genji said, his tears having pretty much run dry at his point.

“Well, ya better tell me what hair products you use, darlin’. Wish my hair was as soft as this.”

Genji let out a chuckle, which made Jesse smile. He’s getting there.

The pair stayed like that for some time until Jesse had an idea. He reached over to his bag and pulled a safety pin off the strap, handing it to Genji. Before Genji could question him, he began to explain himself.

“ Maybe we can safety pin the pieces of our broken hearts back together. We’ve both been hurt so much in the past, and we’re obviously gonna wanna be whole in the future. So, I’ll give you this as a promise, that I’m always gonna have your back and the one on my bag is your promise to me, that you’ll always have my back. Make sense?” Jesse said, pinky extended towards his love, smile creeping onto his face.

“Of course.” Genji replied. “Besides, maybe, this time, two wrongs make a right.”

#el loves mcgenji #jesse mcree #genji shimda #bunnyribbit #lucio correia dos santos #hana song #gabriel reyes #jack morrison #reaper76 #trans genji shimada #trans genji #non binary lucio #non binary lucio correia dos santos #high school au #elwritessometimes #teenage writer #writer of tumblr #overwatch #mcgenji

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ribinapan · 4 years ago

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meteorgazing

hello everybody here is an original piece of writing i was kinda proud of bc im trying to post on social media more.

prompt - aliens receive signals from Us (as in the US)

they are from proxima b and i will give more worldbuilding info if yall interested ok here we go :’)

one - meteorgazing

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notes -

opi - (two earth days)

rings - (eleven earth days)

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We get a lot of meteors.

Reason 50678 the surface isn’t safe-- no atmosphere means no pushback. Rocks hurtling from the sky aren’t quite uncommon. There’s not much damage to anything but what they hit. Of course, while it’s scary to watch, it doesn’t do much but cause a roofquake-- a rumbling beginning from the Seeing Dome to the rest of the tunnels. There’s been some incidents, some injuries and some deaths- like everything, it’s something swept away as a horrible- but normal- natural disaster, and most of the time it’s not much more than a little shiver. Really. People in the city at the time tend to gather just to watch. There’s something memorizing about watching a hurtling ball of rock slam into the face of our planet at high speeds while completely ablaze.

Even with the commonplace activity of gathering in the center of the city to watch space rocks fall dangerously close to our Seeing Dome, however, I never thought we would go so far as to make a surface dome just to watch one of the biggest showers yet to date. It was dangerous enough as is-- really, it was-- so I wasn’t particularly interested to watch in any case- yes, a little bit curious about it, but the feeling was quickly stomped out by fear and replaced with a sense of resignation. There was always Holowatch-- a projected hologram from your home holodevice to show you the news-- mostly surface stuff, or from City Twenty, where the biggest political station we had throughout the cluster of cities was placed.

But then there was Ama. Ama, with his bright eyes and his huge grin, practically shivering with excitement as he rushed me in line to get a ticket. We didn’t have enough money for the usual, so he entered us into contests basically any chance he got-- I wasn’t worried, and no way by all the gods would they curse me so much by--

“Elli! I got it-- look, I got two!” Tickets waved in the air for the first ever surface dome built specifically for watching meteor showers in our tunnel, I felt my heart sink as I made eye contact with Ama, beaming more than I had ever seen before.

There was something about Ama and his excitement that just pulled you in and shoved away your rationality. The way he smiled made you feel like you had to do anything to preserve it-- maybe because it was so hard to get him like this, maybe because love blinds you to even the stupidest of ideas. I flattened my sweatshirt against my chest nervously and grinned back, taking my ticket out of his hand. Three rings until disaster and we had free tickets to watch.

For the next three rings, every opi I woke up to a message about strange noises coming from a sector we call Terra, holding a planet that astronomers deemed safest and most habitable for intelligent life like us. Or about giant meteor showers. Or about how rare we are to get huge rocks falling from the sky hurtling at the surface in a desperate attempt to show us the way to our doom and them staying the size they do. And it was adorable, really. Usually it was me, and usually it was seventy messages about something boring from me, and so with a sense of duty I read everything Ama sent and poured as much excitement into a response as I could.

We’re going to die! Screamed my brain, but by the sun god was I dumb enough to be happy to go along with it.

We weren’t the only tunnel with a surface dome ready for the watching, either. City Twenty had the biggest, and far on the other side of the Habitation Line was 9296- the longest lasting surface dome with even a small bit of surface travellers living on it. Of course, they had underground homes to sleep in, but they spent most of their waking hours up on the surface. Everyone knew about it, and Ama swore he wanted to be one of them one day. I wondered how it’d feel to be watching this from there-- normal? Did they see meteor showers all the time? Were they afraid it might hit the dome every time they saw one screeching towards them faster than an Aquatrain? Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, I closed my eyes to sleep before we went up to our tunnel’s first surface dome with only one thought, an absolute certainty: oh my gods, we’re going to die.

When I woke up, I found myself wandering to Ama’s home with an even stronger sense of resignation and a desire to not be alone with it. Immediately upon arrival, I was met with the most excited four-eyed gaze I’ve ever been locked in-- and there it went again, I knew I was going to do this and be just fine with it.

His chatter continued, rising as the time got closer to head up to the surface dome, and often I found myself opening my mouth to share a fact just to keep him going.

“Did you know space tastes like rubusberries?” I heard myself saying, “Do you think the rocks taste like that, too?” He stopped for a moment, frozen on the sidewalk on our way to the train to the surface dome just to stare at me. Bubbling up with laughter, he tossed his head forward in a snort,

“Are you planning to taste the meteor, Elli?” My face heated up in embarrassment, but I bit my tongue and then shot back a response. “Maybe! I mean, it’s good research! A lot of things can be identified through taste!” “Local child just up and dies because they went outside to taste a space-rock.” “At least I’d know if it tasted like rubusberries!”

Rubusberries stayed the topic for a bit longer, the topic clinging to our tongues until it faded away into excited shivering as we stepped in line for the train. It hit me like a solar flare, making me bubble with anticipation that I really was excited, too- I wanted to see it, and I wanted to see Ama see it. The voice screaming ‘we’re going to die!’ finally dulled down to a whisper in the back of my mind.

Hey, at least it’ll be interesting.

Once on the aquatrain, I watched the train-tunnel fill with water as Ama listened to the rest of the train’s quiet, excited chatter. My hands gripped the edges of my seat as I watched it slowly bubble up above my window, bracing myself for the kickback of the train shooting through the water. It was interesting technology, really, but the amount of malfunctions I’d read about had me uneasy every time I was on one. One glance at Ama told me he didn’t as much as I did- if at all- so I bit my tongue and watched as the train suddenly lurched forward, shooting through the water and up towards the surface.

Here we go.

Suddenly, there was a chaotic ball of energy at my shoulder, pressing his hand against the window as we watched ourselves shoot up towards the danger, up towards new experiences and life on the surface yet to come.

“It’s funny we’re going full circle. Surface to underground to surface.” I murmured.

“Now we know what we’re doing. We hadn’t evolved enough before. The sun god knew we’d kill ourselves up there.” He replied simply, and the casual tone of his voice made me choke on laughter.

“Then why are we going up there now?” “To prove him wrong out of spite!” Cheered Ama, leaning over me to press both hands against the window. “Look, there it is!”

Look I did, and like he said, there it was. A giant, metallic door that looked unopenable by any number of Centaurians, and yet it slid open and let the water slosh to the side as the train pressed forward and through it, coming to land and slide against the top of the tunnel as we made our way to the surface dome entrance.

I won’t lie. I screamed.

“Elli. Elli, we’re fine! This is how trains work! Elli!” Climbing the rest of the way to the entrance was much less scary, as there were stairs and stairs are solid and won’t explode under too much water pressure, certainly since there’s no water. A muffled voice boomed over speakers we couldn’t see, giving us directions we couldn’t hear-- and then the crowd started moving, so we followed. Metallic doors that looked a little more manageable by Centaurian hands slid open with a slow, painful screech in front of us- and there it was, above the slope we were climbing: another Seeing Dome. This one above the tunnels.

Ama basically squealed-- and as I was jerked away from the line by excited hands, we pushed our way to the front as Ama stared at the stars above us. Closer than ever now, our feet hit red dust and we looked up to see the sky now only separated by a dome and not red rock all around us. It felt scarily empty-- up here, there were no tall walls or caves all around us. From every angle, there was sky.

“This is literally amazing.” He breathed beside me. “Yeah.” I said back with much less air, absolutely slammed by a feeling of sheer surrealism. You could see so far-- the dark line and the light line, where the heat and cold gods warred from afar. The horizon was much more beautiful in person than in pictures.

“Elli, look!” We were now the only people standing by the entrance, the others wandering to the edges of the Seeing Dome to get a better look. To my absolute dismay, however, what should’ve been the safest spot to stand-- right beside the exit-- was where a small meteor was heading, sending itself straight at us.

Ama watched it with wide eyes. I watched it with a wince. It was beautiful-- it really was, watching them streak the sky, and the surface, and our Safety Dome, but watching it hit with a Clank! still gave me a shiver.

Wait.

Wrinkling my nose as I squinted up at it, I tugged Ama’s hand as my feet began to move on their own. Following it as the burning ball of-- well, whatever it was, slid towards an unoccupied side of the Dome, Ama stumbled behind me. “Elli, where are we going? We’re going to miss the rest of it!” “It shouldn’t have made that noise.” I said back, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Elli, you’re nuts.” “It was metallic. It clanked. Ama, it clanked. That’s not a meteor. That’s something someone made.”

And suddenly we were both speeding towards it, Ama whooping and me with my head spinning, stumbling and hitting the side of the dome as we stared down at a mess of melted metal and a white substance bearing a strange, rectangular logo-- red stripes and a blue corner, with what looked like misshapen stars decorating the blue bit. Strange text in bold letters sat above it, smeared and burnt as the capsule remained aflame.

“ALIENS!” Ama shrieked, jumping up and down. He punched my shoulder. “Take that, everybody! ALIENS!!!”

We weren’t the only ones who found something.

Holowatch was projected all over the city as capsules popped up all over the planet. 9296 got two. City Twenty got one. Another surface dome found half of one. Cities were rushing to build more or get Centaurians on the surface to find more. They came with garbled audio-- messages we couldn’t understand. But what sent everyone reeling was the one we found-- it was the sound of another animal, not the intelligent life that kept trying to talk to us. Something big-- something that sounded like our own creatures, a series of clicks, whistles and pulsed calls. Biologists rushed to identify it-- but it was soon determined not to be one of our own, just something close. It was big, most likely lived underwater, but used the same noises ours did to get around-- they used sound for navigation.

There was no doubt about it, there was life on Terran.

“We discovered aliens.” Ama wouldn’t stop saying. “Not us.” “We found it first!” “9296 found theirs thirty-two blinks before we found ours.”

“Second! We discovered aliens second!” “...Fine. Second.” “Aliens, Elli!”

“I hear you, Ama.” I said with fake exasperation, watching him pace around his room.

“We found it. We should get to see what they do with it.” “We are literally children, they weren’t going to let us help.” I said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously as he stopped walking across the room. He looked up at me and grinned.

“Am-- no. No, absolutely not. Whatever you’re thinking is a big, fat, nope.”

He continued grinning, taking a step towards me as his expression melted into something akin to affection mixed with excitement. The mischief was there-- I could see it. Feel it. But rationality slipped away as he grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s just try to sneak around. It’s not like we’ll even get anywhere with it!”

I let out a heavy sigh as I quietly threw my life into ruin. I unleash the sun god upon you, aliens. Why do you do this to me?

“...Fine.”

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gaylotusthatexists · 5 years ago

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eyeshadow and flags

pairing: platonic creativitwins

summary: As much as they want to keep everything a secret, Roman realises they can’t hide from their brother forever.

trigger warnings: implied transphobia, unaccepting parents, slight misgendering, sympathetic remus

word count: 1515

a/n: aaaa ok i’m a day late bc reasons but! day four of pride prompts! today’s (well, yesterday’s) prompt was ‘flag’. and, as it was also roman’s birthday yesterday, this doubles as a roman birthday fic. hope y’all enjoy :)

ao3

Roman closed their door and let out a breath, sinking down to the floor. Guests were just beginning to leave - family members and family friends who'd come to celebrate their birthday, no one they were particularly interested in celebrating with but oh well. They'd be celebrating with their actual friends later in the week, sometime after school, although a couple had already given them their presents. Thinking that they'd be alone for a while longer, Roman scooted over to the other corner of their room and grabbed a few presents out of their school bag, leaning against their bed as they began to open them.

A photo album - that was sweet. As they flicked through the pages, they saw pictures of themself and their friends, in local parks and each other's bedrooms and at pride parades, all the fun times they'd had together. But their smile slowly faded, as they shut the book tight and hid it back in their school bag, knowing that if their parents found it and opened it and saw that they'd been to pride parades they'd have some questions, and they doubted that would go very well.

Then there was some necklaces and bracelets and makeup, all of which they couldn't wait to try out, but they'd have to wait a while first, perhaps at their next sleepover. And - oh, God, they'd been wanting that eyeshadow palette for ages, it must have cost their friend so much. They hummed. Perhaps a little eyeshadow wouldn't hurt, at the very least just to send a selfie to their friend who'd gifted them it. They heard the front door close - that would be their parents going out to get shopping, they always liked to go just before the shops closed. That meant Roman had, say, an hour, alone in the house. Humming, they began to apply some of the eyeshadow, just a simple red to start with, although they were very interested in experimenting some more some other time, and sent a quick photo to their friend.

And then the last present. Roman opened the wrapping, close to tears when they saw that their friend had given them - it was a flag, the nonbinary pride flag. They'd been so close to buying one of these at the last pride parade they'd went to but held themself back, for fear that their parents may find it. And, God, had their friend brought it all the way back then? Without Roman even realising?

They glanced around their room, considering whether there'd been a place they could hang it up. Probably best not to put it in plain view, anywhere where any of their family members may see it. That meant their options were either back in their bag, or perhaps somewhere their parents wouldn't look, like...

Nothing came to mind. Their mother tended to clean their room during the day whilst they were at school - without them even wanting her too, Roman would be quite happy cleaning on the weekend, but whenever they tried to tell her that she just said they were being 'ungrateful'. The safest places were their closet - their mother always let them put their own clothes away, at least, but it was a little risky - or, again, in their bag. Not feeling like taking the bigger risk, Roman decided to keep it in their bag, looking forward to being able to hang it up properly when they finally had a place of their alone.

"Roman!" a voice exclaimed, barging through the door and sliding onto their bed. "Roman, they're gone, do you wanna-"

"Remus," Roman hissed, trying their best to hide the flag still sitting in their lap, which was a little difficult to do - they ended up just wrapping the paper around it again, and slowly edging it towards their bag. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanna celebrate your birthday too! And now that the adults are gone we can- Oh!" Remus' eyes lit up with curiously. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the terribly concealed flag in Roman's lap.

"Nothing," Roman spluttered, shoving it back into their bag. "Just a present from a friend."

"Was it a flag?" Remus guessed, moving closer to Roman. "What country was it? I don't recognise it-"

"It's not a country," Roman said, trying to make their voice sound not-so-shaky. "It's just some colours. Doesn't really mean anything."

Remus hummed.

Roman glared at him. "What?"

"I guess if you're not gonna tell me, I'll just have to look it up myself," he said, grinning. "What colours was it again - white, purple, was there a yellow in there?"

"Don't worry about it, Remus." Roman picked at their fingernails. "Seriously, it doesn't mean anything."

Remus seemed disappointed. But then a moment later, his eyes widened again. "Are you wearing eyeshadow?"

Roman blinked. "No?" Oh, wait, shit, they were, weren't they? "I mean, uh-"

"You totally are!" Remus hummed. "I didn't know guys could wear makeup. Can I try?"

Roman tried their best to not visibly cringe at Remus' statement, but figured they did anyway. Hopefully Remus wouldn't notice their discomfort, though - Remus wasn't exactly the most attentive.

Remus huffed. "Not letting me try? Rude."

"No, I-" Roman sighed. "Dad won't be too pleased about that. I should probably take it off anyway. Before they get back." They reached for their makeup wipes (also hidden in their bag) and began to take the eyeshadow off.

Remus pouted. "Why would they care?"

Roman rolled their eyes.

"No, seriously, what's wrong with guys-"

"I'm not a guy," Roman snapped, immediately regretting it afterwards. Shit.

Remus blinked. "You're... not?"

Roman breathed in. "I- I mean-"

"Are you a girl?" Remus asked. "Is that why you're wearing makeup? It would be a little weird though if I just find out that this whole time my brother has actually been my sister-"

Roman cringed. Remus wouldn't understand this - his friends were all right dicks, and Roman was well aware of their parents views. Roman doubted Remus had ever even heard of transgender and nonbinary people existing, and if he had he probably thought it was nothing more than a joke or something weird or wrong. But Roman didn't know how to get themself out of this one. They could feel themself shaking. Possibly close to tears.

"Roman?" Remus said, hanging upside down off the bed close to Roman's face. "You okay?"

Roman breathed in. "Yeah. I-" They cleared their throat, trying to pretend that they weren't about to cry. "Can I, uh, talk to you, about something?"

Apparently sensing the seriousness now in Roman's tone, Remus rolled off the bed and went to sit cross legged next to Roman, the mischievous grin fading from his face. "Yeah, of course."

Roman looked up at the ceiling, wanting to look anywhere but Remus' eyes. "Promise me you won't make fun of me?"

Remus nodded. "Promise."

"Or tell our parents?"

Remus frowned, but nodded again. "Yeah, sure."

Roman breathed in. It was now or never, they supposed. Maybe Remus wouldn't be a jerk about it. And, if he was, at least Roman knew that they'd have to cut him out of their life as well. That was unlikely, but-

God. Thinking about it was just making them procrastinate even longer. Roman breathed in, again, then quickly and quietly said, "I'm nonbinary."

Silence. Roman expected that much.

"What's that?" Remus asked, genuine confusion in his voice. Yeah - Roman has expected that too.

"I'm... More specifically I'm agender," they clarified, although that did nothing to make Remus any less confused. "It- It basically means that..." They drummed their fingers on their leg. "I'm not a boy. Or a girl. I don't... have a gender."

After a few more moments of silence, in which Roman was sure Remus was about to shout at them, or punch them, or disown them, or something along those lines. None of that happened. Instead, Remus just asked, "How does that work?"

Roman shrugged. "I- I don't know. Gender's weird. I just- I don't really feel like a boy, or a girl." Remus didn't seem to understand, but he let Roman continue talking. "Sometimes when people call me a guy or use he/him pronouns it feels... icky. I don't know. Like, it doesn't feel like me. But then she/her isn't any better."

Remus hummed. "What... What would you prefer, then?" he asked. "If you don't like he or she."

Roman breathed out. Remus was being cool about it. That was a good sign. "I've been going by they/them with my friends."

Remus nodded. "Okay. That's cool." He looked down at the floor. "Are you just my... sibling, then?"

Roman nodded. They felt like they were going to cry again, but for entirely different reasons. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be good."

Remus grinned. "Well-" He leant his head in Roman's shoulder. "-you're still the best sibling in the world."

Alright, yes, Roman was definitely going to cry. "Thanks. For being so cool with this."

"You're my sibling," Remus said. "I'm never going to hate you, y'know. No matter what you are."

#prideprompts2020 #sanders sides #thomas sanders #creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #roman’s birthday #my writing #my fanfic

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poptod · 5 years ago

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The One Time Debt was Good (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Request: Hi there could you do an Elliot x reader where the reader gets liked fucked up or something and Elliot helping her clean up the cuts and blood and stuff (ok thanks bye have a nice day 💓)

Took me a bit but I finally finished it. I made it gender neutral bc that shit fucks. also, there’s a small paragraph of graphic injury description. part 2

He’d warned you about this, you knew that, and you knew you should’ve listened. He hardly ever warns you against anything, hardly ever tries to stop you from hurting yourself, so when for once he told you not to do something, of course you had to ignore his advice. The one time he tries to care about you, and you have to ignore it.

To be fair, with or without his input it was a bad idea. Mosh pits aren’t exactly the safest place, not for someone like you at least, especially metal mosh pits. You hadn’t expected this in any future vision, though; your clothes are almost completely torn off of you, shreds just barely covering your bruised, blood-drenched skin. Thankfully most of it wasn’t your blood - a fight broke out and you were pushed straight into the middle of it, so a good amount of it probably belonged to the very people who beat you to a pulp.

Your first thought, practically crawling out of the concert, was I should probably go to the hospital. A perfectly rational thought and a good idea, but you then remembered you’re still in debt from the last time you were at the hospital, and that was three years ago. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for Elliot (you assume, you don’t think he likes you very much) his apartment was closest to you, so gathering your shreds of humanity and the fifty-two cents in your pocket, you made your way to him.

Several people stared at you, several didn’t, and by the time you were knocking at his door you felt a little faint. Leaning on the wall, you barely raise your knuckles to rap at the door and within a few seconds you can hear his footsteps. A sigh leaves you, relaxed and anxious all at once - he’s comforting, at least he is to you, but again, he doesn’t like you very much.

Slowly the door creaks open, though it takes him a moment before he looks to his left to find you breathing heavy against the wall, dry blood flaking off your skin and sticking to the wall. He doesn’t say anything, of course he doesn’t, but he opens the door a little, and you walk in with a tiny ‘thank you.’

“I’m really sorry about this,” you manage to get out, your throat dry and horribly sore from screaming. “I would’ve gone to the hospital, but… you know. Can’t really afford that.” Vaguely he nods, not meeting your eye as you ask to use the shower. With his permission granted you wash the blood off yourself, the dirt and grime, noticing the splotches of red, yellow, and blue that are the permanent reminders of the night. The bruises practically coat your ribs - when you press down on them it hurts so badly you wonder if you broke something.

When you get out you hesitate to redress yourself, considering your clothes are still grimy and bloodied, but before you can even make a decision on what to do the bathroom door opens just a crack. One hand carrying a stack of clothes sneaks in, placing the clothes on the counter before quickly retreating behind the closing door.

This is exactly why I’ve got the stupidest crush in the universe, you think, groaning internally at yourself. These little moments, rare and far between, moments where he does something purely human, keep you around him. Grabbing the clothes, you pause for a moment, taking in the scent and softness before dressing yourself. There isn’t any underwear, which you should’ve expected, and any sane person would probably just wear their own underwear, but instead you go commando. In the foggy mirror you examine yourself in the baggy sweatshirt and pants, wondering how to go about thanking him.

Surprisingly, you have even less time to think about it than you thought, since as soon as you open the door he’s standing there. For a while he just stares at you, and you stare back, confused as to what he’s trying to achieve. Finally he opens his mouth, hesitant to speak but he eventually does.

“You’ve… got a thing.. down your back,” he says, which is confusing in itself. With a furrowed brow you walk back into the bathroom, taking the sweatshirt off and trying to look at your back in the mirror. Sure enough, there’s a massive cut down your spine, and it’s still bleeding a bit - it’s astounding you haven’t noticed it yet, considering just the sight of it makes you sick.

“Oh dear god,” you say, feeling the acidic burn in the back of your throat grow worse.

“Here,” he mumbles, managing to maneuver you while barely touching you so your face is to the mirror. “I can stitch you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say quickly, your heart racing at the thought of stitches. You’ve gotten them before, but that was with an anesthetic, not straight out. In fear you whip around, hoping that’ll keep him and his needle away from your skin, but now you’re face to face with him and suddenly the needle seems friendlier. Your breath catches in time with his, the both of you frozen in the moment as you both try to decipher what’s happening. He stammers when he gains control of his body again, stepping back so his back is against the wall and he’s as far from you as possible.

“I have vodka,” he says, “if that’d make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that actually would,” you say with a sigh, relieved to be able to catch yourself as he leaves the bathroom. He returns a minute or so later, trying desperately not to stare at your naked torso. He unscrews the cap, and after you take a few gulps of the drink (which does nothing for your sore throat), he pours a little down into your cut. You wince, your grip on the sink tighter than your clenched teeth, a headache sprouting from the tension in your jaw.

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you over your shoulder through the mirror. You nod - you’re not going to get much more ready, so you might as well get it over with.

As the needle prods at your skin, poking into your flesh and sprouting little droplets of blood, you try not to think on the sensation. You try to think of anything, anything besides the cool metal pulling string through your back and tugging at your skin. Instead you focus on him, on his concentrated face; he’s biting at his cheek, his mouth opening to talk to himself in words you can’t hear.

It takes a shorter amount of time than you thought it did. The pain is now aching, spreading up your spine and into your head and down through your legs.

“I guess my skin must’ve snagged on someone’s spikes,” you groan hoarsely when he finishes up, tugging at your ripped skin as he tries to knot the string in place.

“I told you not to go,” he says, low and quiet, still not meeting your eye.

“Doesn’t matter now,” you say with a sigh, rubbing your side with your hand to massage the pain out, though it does very little. When you turn around he glances up at you, sparing just a second to watch you before leaving the bathroom.

Rubbing your face wearily you follow, your steps careful and slow as you try to put the sweatshirt back on. It proves a lot more difficult, what with the string preventing your skin from stretching, but you manage to get it on eventually. He’s in his kitchen filling a glass with water when you enter, and as usual he can’t stand to look at you.

“Thanks for patching me up, by the way,” you mumble, leaning against the counter with your hands gripping it tight, still trying to ignore the pain in your back and ache of your bruised legs and arms. He sets the glass down, and for a moment it looks as if he’s going to ignore you as usual, but he turns to you with pursed lips.

“Why do you do stuff that you know is going to hurt you?”

Your eyes widen at his straightforwardness, stuttering as you try to come up with a plausible answer. The only problem is you never even realized you do that, you never thought you were looking for pain, but when you look back at your past decisions it seems obvious. How long as he been putting up with your masochistic tendencies?

“I… I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I never realized that I do that.”

Your thoughts go back to when you were little - in your teenage years you had a history of self harm, but you never thought of it as a hatred thing. It was just another way to feel pain, another way to feel real in a world where so much is faux. The memory of a razor cutting your skin to shreds just to watch your blood drip freely from your hips and arms makes you curl in on yourself, something that Elliot notices.

“I think I need to sit down,” you say, your voice cracking with the lightheaded feeling swirling around you. He lets you sit on the couch before he speaks again, sitting on the couch with you but as far from you as he can.

“Take my advice, next time,” he tells you, crossing his legs.

“And for now?”

He doesn’t answer. The TV buzzes in your background as exhaustion takes its’ toll on you, the fight, the walk, and the cleaning up tiring every bone in your body. It doesn’t take long at all until you’re lying down, your eyes closed as you can’t bear to keep them open. You’re still conscious, still listening to the dialogue of a show you’ve never watched before and the typing on Elliot’s laptop. It’s not long at all till the typing stops, and he sets his computer down on the ground as quietly as possible. With the shuffling of clothes and footsteps, you hear him come closer, and the cushion your legs are resting on dips down.

A thousand thoughts run through your head, a hundred theories and at least fifty conspiracies tackle what in the world Elliot could be doing, but none of them lead to a satisfying answer. Then he’s touching you, something he never does, not unless he absolutely has to - and it’s surprisingly affectionate. You’re barely able to keep your breath under control as he brushes your hair back, fingers just barely skimming across from your temple to behind your ear. Clothes rustle again, and you can feel his heat right up against your cheek. Every single one of your thoughts is now focused on one thing: stay absolutely still.

Somehow you manage to do it, somehow you’re still breathing even with closed eyes, though you have no idea if there’s a prominent blush on your cheeks. You’d guess yes but he still hasn’t moved; he sounds like he’s muttering something, but even right next to your ear, the heat of his speech brushing your skin, you can’t pick out what exactly he’s saying.

He’s so close, so unbearably close that you can’t decipher just when his lips touch you - he’s been hovering over your temple so long that the difference between his heat and touch is thin. Sometime in there you realize he’s kissing you, one long, sweet kiss on your temple, and suddenly the entirety of the evening is something you know you’ll never forget.

The cushion resumes its’ given position as he stands, and the rustling of his clothes combined with the absence of his heat tells you he’s gone. With a buzz and a click, the hum of the television goes out, and Elliot retreats to his bedroom.

You fall asleep soon after, your dreams more pleasant than ever with the new revelation.

#elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson #mr. robot #rami malek #rami malek x reader #male reader #female reader

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farfromtommy · 5 years ago

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world’s best surprise PART 2 // dad!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: part 2 bc lots of you asked for it. dad!tom makes me soft. hope you all enjoy reading this, I loved writing it :))))) I did not proof read/ edit it bc its 3am and I have to be up in 3 hrs and really need to sleep oops

A/N 2: THIS VERSION IS A REWRITE PLS ENJOY <3

summary: y/n goes into labor

warning: swearing, childbirth, fluff

word count: 3,330

requests are open!!!!!

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

PART 1

not my gif

Everyone you talked to and everything you read always said pregnancy was the most beautiful thing that could happen. That it was magical and amazing. You felt that way after the morning sickness had subsided and you felt the “pregnancy glow” everyone talked about. But now at 36 almost 37 weeks, you were absolutely over it.

It was a Friday night and instead of going out and enjoying the last few weeks before the baby arrived, you were on the couch eating ice cream and watching tv. You put your feet up on the coffee table and rested your bowl on your stomach looking for something to watch.

You started your maternity leave when you hit 32 weeks. Nobody told you how boring it was going to be just sitting around waiting for your baby to come. Most days were spent lounging around your new house.

You and Tom had finally moved into your new house and you spent most of your day unpacking and getting the nursery ready for the baby who could make an appearance any day. You finished organizing all of his clothes and basic necessities. Although your baby would be spending time in your bedroom for a little while, you still wanted his nursery to be perfect.

You laid back, still using the top of your stomach as a table, and began watching a movie that had piqued your interest. You were about 15 minutes into it when you heard keys jingle and the lock turning. You looked over just as Tom walked in, looking beat and exhausted. He had been trying to finish the last few things he needed to do before the baby arrived so he could take time off to care for you and his newborn.

He set his things down and kicked off his shoes. He walked over to where you were sitting and as soon as he saw you, everything negative in his body seemed to melt away.

“I want to take you out somewhere. You can pick the place. I just need to take you out somewhere and show you off.” Tom smiled at you as he leaned over the back of the couch. You twisted your head to look at him and saw the wide grin he had on his face.

“Is that so? Well you’re pulling me away from my ice cream and a movie, so it better be worth it.” You smiled back. He walked around to the front of the couch to stand in front of you. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips. He moved your ice cream bowl, and grabbed your hands to help you stand up. You moved your legs from the coffee table and placed them on the ground, allowing Tom to help you up.

You both sat there in the restaurant taking in the wonderful time you were both having. You were talking about everything and anything that came to your mind. Tom seemed fidgety and nervous towards the end of dessert. You finished your cheesecake and wiped the corner of your mouth.

You took a deep breath and leaned back in your chair, you were absolutely stuffed to the brim with the decadent meal you just had. There was honestly not that much room left in your stomach but you always managed to throw down some cheesecake. Tom took the bill and you two were heading out the door when he suggested taking a little walk to the park about a block from the restaurant.

“It’s a beautiful night, it would be a shame if we didn’t take advantage of it.” He grabbed your hand and led you towards the park. A few minutes later you made it to the park and saw a bench that overlooked the whole thing. Tom saw your gaze fall on the bench and chuckled to himself.

He sat down next to you and let one of his arms fall behind your shoulders and the other rested on your stomach. He moved it around until he felt what he was waiting for. The baby seemed to know whenever it was Tom touching your stomach and almost immediately would respond by kicking as hard as they possibly could.

“I don’t think that’s ever going to get old.” He said, looking at your bump lovingly. You rested your head on his shoulder and just watched the interaction he was having with your baby.

“Seeing how excited you get when they kick makes the tiny feet in my ribs worth it.” You said to him. He snorted and pressed a kiss to your hairline. He shifted on the bench a little, allowing you to lean into his body more. As sneakily as he could, Tom reached into the pocket of the jean jacket he was wearing and pulled out what he had been holding onto all night.

He kept it closed in his fist and moved it out in front of you. He kissed your cheek to get your attention and moved it closer to you. You turned over his fist and he opened up his fingers to reveal a diamond ring resting in his palm. A gasp left your mouth and you turned around and looked him in the eye.

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to say to you when I propose for years, probably since we got together. I never want to leave your side for as long as I’m alive. I look at you and all I can think about is the family we’re about to start and how badly I want to keep making babies with you. This is the life I’ve dreamed of having, and it’s not a dream anymore. I love you so much, Y/N. I want to marry the shit out of you. So, will you marry me?” He said in a quiet voice, his eyes darting across your face.

The only word you managed to get out was ‘Yes’ before the tears fell down your face and you wrapped your arms around Tom. You felt him sigh a breath of relief and embraced you as close as he could. You sobbed into his shoulders as he placed kisses into your neck. He pulled back and grabbed your left hand so he could slide the ring onto your finger. The second it was on he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

When you got home neither of you were ready to turn in for the night, opting to get comfortable on the couch. You and Tom were cuddled up on the couch watching some action movie when you both started to fall asleep. Tessa was sitting at the other end of the couch, loving the company.

He had you wrapped in his arms and laid between his legs with your back against his chest, your hands resting on your bump, you used his biceps as a pillow and just let your eyes close. You loved falling asleep wrapped in his arms, it’s where you felt safest.

You were woken up from your deep slumber by a sharp pain radiating from your stomach. Your doctor said it was normal to feel cramping, as your body was getting ready for birth, but this was different. It was worse than anything you had felt. Refusing to let the panic set in, you just sat there trying to calm down.

You stayed awake for a little bit, wanting to see if it happened again. You and Tom were still tangled on the couch and Tessa still asleep at your feet. You gasped quietly as you felt another sharp pain in the same spot about 10 minutes later, waking up Tessa in the process. She looked at you and started whining. You shushed her as you felt Tom stir from behind you.

“Tess shh ‘m tryin’ to sleep.” Tom mumbled from behind you and shifted a little, trying to go back to sleep. He tightened his grip on your body as he started to fall asleep.

“Tom, s-something’s wrong. I’m h-having these pains in my stomach. I haven’t felt this b-before.” You stuttered out. Tom’s eyes shot open and he saw the panic spread across your face. He helped you sit up and kneeled in front of you.

“Let’s just try and stay calm, yeah? Doctor said to get you in a tub with warm water to relax your body. Wanna try that before we call her?” He said in a low voice, trying to keep you calm. You nodded frantically before he stood up and helped you to the master bathroom.

He helped you out of your clothes and into the tub. You sat there for a while, letting the warm water wrap around your body. Tom sat there next to you, running his hand up and down your back to help you relax. He whispered words of encouragement as you gripped the sides of the tub.

After about 20 minutes in the tub you hadn’t felt any pains again. You drained the tub and with Tom’s help you started to stand up. When you were out of the tub and wrapped in your fluffy robe, you felt a huge amount of pressure in your stomach drop, and then a gush of liquid come out from between your legs. You gasped and grabbed the nearest surface to try and steady yourself. Tom looked over to you in panic and just stood there, waiting for you to say something.

“I think that was my water, we should probably go to the hospital.” You squeaked and looked up at Tom. He just stared at you with wide eyes until he processed what you had said.

You were waiting in the living room as Tom frantically ran around your house, trying to get everything you had gotten ready to take to the hospital. The carseat was installed last week, your bags were in the trunk, Tom’s mom was on her way to pick up Tessa and take her back to her house, and your doctor had been called and was going to meet you at the hospital. You were standing by the door with your hand on the wall, trying to steady yourself as your contractions started to come in.

“Tom can we PLEASE go, we need to go!” You said to him as you saw his whip down the stairs and into the living room. “Yes, love! Let’s go, I have everything.” He said as he ran to the door. He helped you into the car and made sure you were as comfortable as you could be and you made your way to the hospital in record time. You were in your hospital room getting checked by your doctor within 30 minutes of your water breaking.

The epidural was working wonders after what felt like the millionth hour of being in labor. Only at 6 centimeters dilated, you and Tom were in for a treat for the next couple of hours. He had asked if the lights could be dimmed in your room so you could try and relax as much as possible. His hands were pressing into your lower back as you laid on your side to try and release some of the tension you were holding there.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Tom. What’s going on in that head of yours?” You whispered, turning your head to look behind you.

“‘m sorry lovey. I’m feeling a bit scared and overwhelmed but this is about you and the little one, so don’t worry about me.” He spoke truthfully. You motioned for him to help you turn to your other side. He quickly stood and maneuvered your body to a new position. He sat in his chair again and you placed your hand against his cheek. He immediately leaned into your touch and shut his eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared right now, Tommy. I’m terrified, if I’m being honest. But we’re going to meet our baby today, just try and think about how excited we’ve been. Everything is going to be okay.” He smiled at your words. You always knew how to talk him down when he was feeling anxious about something.

“We’re about to become parents. How crazy is that?” You chuckled. He opened his eyes and let a grin take over his face.

“The craziest.” He whispered, moving closer to you. He planted kisses all over your face and hugged you as best

“One more push Y/N and they’ll be out!” The doctor said as you started to push again. A few seconds later you felt an immense amount of pressure shoot out of your body and as you looked down you saw your baby in the hands of your doctor. They were placed onto your bare chest as they wailed out.

You were there in disbelief as your baby was just placed onto your chest. You couldn’t believe They were here. They were being cleaned up as you just stared in wonder. Not even realizing you were crying, Tom wiped more tears off your face and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Go ahead and check and see what it is.” A nurse said as they continued to wipe the baby down. You looked at Tom as you looked to see what gender your baby is.

“It’s a boy! Tommy, we have a son.” You cried out, tears still streaming down your face.

“He’s perfect Y/N, oh my god. Just absolutely perfect.” Tom said with amazement in his eyes. You looked at the way he admired his son and how nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

“We gotta have more Tom, we have to.” You sobbed out, running your hands along your son’s body. All the nurses and your doctor laughed at what you said. The nurse cleaning him up said it’s not the first thing mom’s say after going through labor. Tom just agreed with you and kept wiping the tears off your face.

You three were the only people in the world. It was perfect. Tom cut the umbilical cord and just watched in pure shock as the nurses did all his measurements and wrapped him in a blanket. They handed him to Tom and you could see how tense he was as they placed your son into his arms, but almost immediately relaxed.

He walked over to your bed and sat on the edge of it. You moved over as much as you could and watched your son in the arms of your fiancé. You ran your finger along his cheek and couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Hey mate, happy birthday.” Tom whispered when your son opened his eyes. You looked up at Tom and saw the tears forming on his lash line. Tom brought him closer to his face and placed his forehead against the baby’s. It took everything in you to not lose your shit.

“My goodness, Y/N. He is so beautiful.” Nikki whispered as she held her grandson. Dom was standing right behind her looking at the new addition.

“He looks a bit like Tom did, don’t he?” Dom asked. All Nikki could do was nod and continue staring at him. Tom had left the room to get his brothers and Harrison from the waiting room so they could have their introduction.

Tom knocked on the door lightly before pushing it open with a herd of people behind him. Harrison was the first to lay his eyes on the baby and all the air seemed to leave his body. Tom’s brothers all walked in and had the same reaction to seeing their nephew.

“Bloody hell, he looks exactly like Tom.” Sam managed to get out, moving to get a proper look at him. Nikki turned a bit to move to the center of the group of the boys. Harrison was the first to reach out to hold him. He looked up to you to make sure it was okay and after you gave him a nod, he carefully took the baby.

“I’m going to implode if you don’t tell us what his name is already.” Harry looked up at you and Tom waiting for one of you to say something. You looked over at Tom motioned for him to get on with it. He walked over to Harrison and rubbed his hand along the top of the baby’s head.

“This is Oliver Thomas Holland.” Tom announced to the room. You smiled as everyone looked over at him. Oliver began to fuss a little bit in Harrison’s arms and he started to panic, looking to Tom for help. Tom laughed at his friend not knowing what to do with the squirming baby.

“He’s probably hungry. I’ll take him, just hand me that blanket. You guys can stay in here, if you want.” You stretched your arms out and had the baby passed to you. Adjusting your hospital gown, the baby and the blanket, you managed to get Oliver eating without flashing anyone.

Everyone found a spot in the room and just started conversations with each other. Tom looked under the blanket a couple times just to admire the love of his life feeding his son. Nikki had asked about the IV in your left hand and you lifted it up to show her, forgetting about the extra piece of jewelry you had on your finger.

“Is that an engagement ring?!” She slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she may have been a little too loud. Everyone stopped and looked at you. You sheepishly smiled and looked over at Tom.

Harry walked over to Tom and slapped a hand on his back, congratulating him. Of course he had told Sam, Harry, and Harrison that he was planning on proposing. Nikki started crying and continued looking at your ring. She hugged you as best as she could with the baby in your arms.

Adjusting to life as parents wasn’t easy. Ollie had decided against sleeping and was up every 2 hours screaming, needing attention from his parents. You wouldn’t trade it for anything, though. The middle of the night feedings and diaper changes made the time you spent with him during the day worth it.

Watching your son start to get a grasp on life and exploring this new world he was in was amazing. Most of your day was spent on the couch with your little one in your arms, or watching Tom interact with him. Tom was super excited when the labor and delivery nurses had encouraged him to continue doing skin to skin at home.

Breaking the news to Tom’s fans about the new member of your family was almost as scary as him announcing he was dating you. Tom’s instagram feed was filled with pictures of you, so the fans were very aware of your relationship. You had gone to all his premieres and were always spotted in public with him. Luckily, you managed to avoid the public finding out about your pregnancy.

Tom had agreed with you about keeping Ollie out of the public eye, not wanting his pictures being exploited. You agreed to one instagram post. Tom’s fans were so important to him, and he wanted to include them in the excitement of having a new addition.

He had Harry come over to your house to take a few pictures. The one you had approved for instagram was of you, Tom and Ollie on the couch. You held Ollie close to your chest, turning his head so it wasn’t visible. Tessa was sitting right next to you looking into the camera and Tom next to Tessa, looking over at you and Ollie.

Harry had found a shirt for Tessa online that said ‘World’s Best Big Sister’ and decided it was very appropriate for the occasion. Tom posted the photo to his instagram with the caption --

Tessa is very excited to tell the world about her baby brother. Y/N and I welcomed a baby boy into our lives a few weeks ago. We’re both so overwhelmed with love and joy and are loving this new chapter of our lives. I will be taking time off from filming to be with my son and fiancée, but you will see some more from me in the not so distant future. Thank you everyone for your love and support. #BabyHolland

---

For everyone who wanted a part 2!!!

@ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @crazy12cinemas @xoluvx @afictionaladventure16 @fab-notfat @tomscuddle

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with-fervor · 4 years ago

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16, 17, 32, 33 🤍

!! thanks for the ask :)

16- Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?

Sunny! But not hot 😡 Sunny + 60 degree weather is perfection to me. Rain can be nice though! Depending on how heavy it is and where you are

17- Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?

Actually no, not that I know of. I know lots of people who have my middle name as their first name though. And my first name is oddly oftentimes a middle name.

32- Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?

Oh BOY oh boy. This ask. A story lol. Yes.

STORY TIME ok so

I've always been a little self-conscious about my nose, it's quite big, and I went through a (long) phase last year when I really wanted a nose job and was actually seriously considering it and trying to make plans.

I told my friends this while in line for a club once and most of them were like "I think you look great but if you want to, we support you, you do you!" But this one friend (backstory: we had a very long will-they-or-won't-they going on) was like "What?! NO. You CAN'T." Which kinda made my heart sink, made me feel bad. And my other friends were like "whoa wtf dude don't shame her" and he was like "no I'm not trying to shame her! Sorry it's just that I like your nose and I really don't think you should change it." And then I felt less bad bc that actually was kind of sweet.

After that, going forward, he adopted the same I support you if you want to message as everyone else, but he also would kind of subtlely try to gas me up I think, which I did appreciate. Tbh I think it was helpful to hear somebody I used to like so much compliment my nose so strongly. The two of us had always talked about drunkenly getting tattoos and/or piercings together, and on my end, the piercings discussed were usually eyebrow or tongue. But he would squeeze in these encouraging nose compliments lol like "You should get a nose piercing! Not everyone can pull it off but you really can" or "A nose piercing would look so good on you--I feel like Arab and Indian noses with piercings look better than everybody else's nose piercings."

Fast forward to covid. Everything was just shutting down, and we didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation yet bc it was very early days where we were, but our town just announced that all bars and restaurants would be closed starting tomorrow so a bunch of us were like ok we're gonna do a very low key last hurrah bar crawl, we're not gonna go to any of the clubs or super popular bars just the fancier emptier ones that we never got a chance to go to but were always on our list (I have not been to a bar or restaurant indoors since). And inevitably me and this guy start having our tattoo/piercing planning discussions again bc we were like wait this could be our last chance to do this together probably so we should like... Do this. And he'd convinced me to do a nose piercing and I convinced him to do ears. We looked up the place and everything but then I was like wait no getting a new piercing at the start of what could be a pandemic is probably not the safest idea bc what if the piercings get infected or something during a time when the healthcare system is so strained? So we didn't.

I wound up leaving for home few days later and did not get my nose pierced, and a couple months after that he had his roommates pierce his ears I'm pretty sure with a fkn potato and sent me pictures. AND THAT'S the story of my almost-nose piercing lol.

33- Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

COLD. In-between weather is best (like 50s to low 70s. The 60s have my heart) but I have awful heat tolerance. It'll get to be like 76 degrees and I'll be like omg stop it's so hot I'm dying somebody make it stop

#ask #ask game #thank you for sending :)#this was fun lol

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argylemikewheeler · 5 years ago

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so. i had an idea about will and mike as bucky and steve for halloween (in some strange alternate timeline bc comics), then @zombiebowlcut came up with the best idea of those comics not being so fantasy after all...there have been weirder things living in hawkins. despite the show’s title, this is the strangest thing i’ve ever written. pls excuse the word dump (and being four months late):

“Are you sure we should go up?” Mike asked, gripping his pillowcase around his hand. “I don’t really know who lives there. And we’re a bit older than the other kids... Maybe they’ll be upset with us.”

“They live in two streets down, Mike.” Will said, taking another step forward. “They can’t be evil.”

“Uh, you have lived in this town, right?”

“Yes, and we’re probably the most dangerous things in your neighborhood for miles.” Will laughed and grabbed Mike’s hand. “Come on, Super Soldier! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In my basement, on the couch with you under my arm.” Mike tried to argue with very little heat. He readjusted his homemade shield on his back, teasing Will with a throw.

“One more house and then we’ll go back.” Will promised, starting to drag Mike along. The well-decorated sleeve and glove may have been impressive as a false metal arm, but it couldn’t do much to contribute to moving Mike forward. “Michael, come on.”

“No, don’t use that voice on me.” Mike laughed, yanking on Will’s hand in return.

Will stumbled forward into Mike, trying to catch his fall by pressing his hands against his chest. It was a sure-fire way to get Mike’s arm around his shoulders and lips pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. Will played right into it, and never minded-- but also knew they were out in public. As much as Will said anyone living in Mike’s neighborhood, or anyone adjacent by that means, wasn’t evil, they were definitely not very progressive. At least, that’s what Will had come to understand.

They separated before anyone around them could even spare half a glance. Will grabbed his pillowcase with both hands and led Mike up to the door. They knocked twice, immediately startled by the sound of a dog barking. Mike reached his hand out and braced Will’s back, lifting his eyebrows.

“If you say the people aren’t evil, the dog definitely isn’t.” Mike whispered with a chuckle. His hand splayed across Will’s back, pushing him up but also pulling him a fraction closer. Their shoulders touched and Will couldn’t help but smile.

His smile faded as the door swung open on them, the sound of the turning knob completely unnoticed in their moment.

A tall man, not much older than their parents-- if at all-- stood in the door. The dog they’d heard was now silent, and barely noticeable, standing behind the man. Will tried not to be rude, and forced his eyes to stay on the man’s eyes and not the knotted long sleeve hanging only two inches from his left shoulder. He smiled and let their “trick or treat” hang in the air.

“Hey, sweetheart? You might want to come see this.” The man leaned back and called into the house. “We finally got kids.”

“What? We weren’t even trying this time.” The voice that emerged down the hall was that of another man. Will tried to keep his face still again. That was another man. And the rugged man standing before him just called him sweetheart with the most sincere and soft voice Will had ever heard-- outside of Mike’s. He knew what that meant, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

“I think they have great costumes, what about you?”

The two men stood in the door frame with bright smiles on their faces. One was blond, holding a bowl of candy in one hand while the other went around the waist of the man holding the door. They looked homey and comfortable. They looked happy-- and they were living in Hawkins.

But they also looked... strangely familiar. Separately, Will was sure they’d mean nothing to him-- hell, he’d probably passed them before in the supermarket-- but standing together, there was something itching at Will’s brain. He blinked, pillowcase still closed and by his side, and turned to Mike. He was standing with his mouth wide open, eyes the biggest Will’s ever seen.

Will was embarrassed, thinking it was the shock of seeing another genuinely open couple out in Hawkins, but another sense of embarrassment overtook him.

He looked down at his costume, then over at Mike’s. Oh. Oh no.

“You know, Buck, I think they do look pretty sharp.” Will refused to believe who was speaking. But he knew it. He heard the name. He knew the comics were based on real people-- on a real conspiracy. God, why does every secret go to hide in Hawkins? And why does it always find him?

“They do... I just... I can’t place who this one is.” Buc-- no. They weren’t young twenty-year old soldiers. They were war veterans now, Will thought-- Mr. Barnes pointed at Will lightly. It wasn’t accusatory, but Will still felt himself shrink under it.

“Well, we have Captain Marvel over here.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning to Mike with the candy bowl. “And this has to be Million Dollar Man.”

“No. No. That’s Ironman.” Mr. Barnes said quickly, poking Mr. Roger’s stomach playfully. “That has to be Ironman.”

"You know what, you’re right.” Mr. Rogers nodded slowly. He leaned over and kissed Mr. Barnes’ cheek and Will thought he was going to fall over. He reached over and grabbed Mike’s arm instinctively. Mike was already in the process of reaching over and intercepted his hand halfway.

Then they were stood there, holding hands in front of their costumes’ namesakes. Looking like complete idiots; in love, and probably in the safest place to do so definitely, but complete fucking idiots.

“Not to extend a strange gesture but,” Mr. Rogers peered over their heads at the chattering groups of children down by the street. There were eyes everywhere. “would you boys like to step in for a moment?”

“A-Are you sure?” Mike sounded like the words were choking him. Being polite had never been so difficult.

“If it’s too strange to ask, we understand.”

“Trust me.” Will said with a sigh. “It’s not weird. We’ve uh, we’ve dealt with weirder.”

“Like this?” Mike said under his breath. “El is pretty tame compared to this.”

“I just put some water on for tea.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning over his shoulder.

“You drink tea?” Mike said suddenly, as if that was the most important thing. Will pulled on Mike’s hand, nearly knocking him over.

“Michael!”

“I’m just... surprised is all!” Mike hissed, face going beat red.

“What? Do regular people not drink tea anymore?” Mr. Rogers laughed. “Are we really that outdated?”

“No, that’s you. You’re the one who’s old. I’m surprisingly still ‘with it’, Steve.” Mr. Barnes shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got the cool kids dressing like me. How come I don’t see you around that often?”

“I-I uh, I don’t like in this development. Mike does.” Will said, still squeezing his hand.

“Mike... Wait! Wheeler, right?” Mr. Rogers was hit with realization, but didn’t look very pleased. “Ted, right? That’s your dad?”

“Yeah.” Will could see the horror on his face; if Ted had no problems shouting at his son just outside of church everything he thought about him-- and his plans to go out with Will on God’s day-- then Will could only imagine what he’d tell strangers.

“I’ll offer again-- do you want tea?” This time, the offer felt heavy. It wasn’t about the tea; it was an impromptu shelter thrown over their heads. A chance to take off their disguises on a night all about costumes. They nodded. “Great! Please, come in, Mike and...”

“Will. This is my boyfriend, Will.” Mike had never spoken the word aloud to anyone but their friends. Never to someone over the age of twenty. Will had never heard Mike come out with such ease. He was fearless-- or at least calculating the damage very quickly.

“Nice to meet you, Will.” Mr. Rogers nodded to Will, smiling. He seemed to be just as relieved to meet them as Mike and Will were.

“Come on in, Will. Oh- and don’t mind Tasha, she’s just my service dog. Since I’m with Steve she knows she’s not working so she will bother you to pet her. You can.” Mr. Barnes stepped back and grabbed the dog’s collar carefully. He kept her at a distance as both Mike and Will stepped into the foyer. “She’s really friendly.”

“You have a service dog.” It wasn’t much of a question. “Does she... help?”

"Yeah.” He nodded and his single word seemed to collect more weight the longer he let it sit in the silence. “When I first came back, she was a really big help. If you, uh, if you ever need a dog to sit with, Tasha’s your girl.”

“We should get you a dog, Will.” Mike said offhandedly, placing a hand on his back. “I’m sure your mom would like another one.”

“You think so?” Will asked. He’d never thought anyone considered his weird nightmares worthy of that much help. Maybe he’d have to try.

“Totally.”

“Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’d be happy to talk to your mother. Or whoever.” Mr. Barnes offered, walking forward.

“D-Do you know my mom too?” Will was sure most people in the neighborhood knew his mother. She never let her presence be discovered; she liked to let everyone know as soon as possible who she was and why one should never pushed her around. Will loved his mom-- and his brother-- they always made introductions mildly unnecessary. It even seemed like introducing himself to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers was redundant.

“Of course we do.” Mr. Rogers stepped quickly around the dining table and waved the boys to the kitchen. “She’s the sweetest. Always helps Buck pack his car when he goes to Melvald’s.”

Mike sat down at the kitchen counter first, holding his am out and waiting for Will to sit beside him. It was something Mike would only do if they were alone together, but for once the audience didn’t seem to feel like other watching eyes. Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes didn’t hover on their closeness; they moved around the kitchen grabbing mugs and bags of tea.

“You know, Will, Hopper would probably like another dog too.” Mike said. “You can’t lose.”

“And if I do, you could definitely beat him up again.”

“I did not beat him up-- I was like, thirteen! He’s like triple my age!”

“Michael, just admit it you did!” He leaned in and whispered. “That’s not very Captain of you...”

“Will, I did not!”

“I’m sorry, did you say you just... beat up a grown man?” Mr. Rogers said with a laugh, turning around. Mr. Barnes chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“He beat up the chief of police.” Will corrected. He never saw it himself, but Lucas was a great storyteller, even years later.

“Oh god.” Mr. Barnes laughed again. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Rogers said with a proud smile. “You have him on the ropes, huh? Really at your mercy?”

“Definitely.” Mike nodded, rolling his eyes. “I literally fought the law.”

“He really deserves to wear those colors, doesn’t he, Buck?” Mr. Rogers smiled, but it wore differently on his face than one of simple amusement. He looked proud, relieved almost; there was someone else. “Good to know some people in this town have some fight left in them.”

“Left?” Mr. Barnes echoed. “Oh, Steve, I don’t think these kids have even gotten started. They’ve raised some hell but, they’ve only started. You don’t fight a cop as your last offence.”

“That’s true.” Mr. Rogers slid the two mugs toward them. He looked at him, almost studying him-- both of them. “They’re heroes. I can tell.”

“Uh,” Mike reached for the mug impulsively. “I don’t think a whole army of--”

“Oh no.” Mr. Rogers lifted his own mug to his lips. His gaze cut through the tight coil of steam to the both of them. Mike’s arm was still arm Will’s shoulders. “We’re still fighting the same thing. Monsters and bad men are all the same-- it’s just hate changing shape.”

“But,” Will spoke quickly, as if his answer startled him.”I think love changes shape too.”

Mr. Rogers paused, blinking. “I suppose you’re right about that. Think it’s in pretty good shape now, don’t you?”

Will spun his mug around slowly. He leaned into Mike’s side, his mouth crumpling into an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. I like to think so... Can probably take on a whole lot more evil.” Will sighed. He knew it wasn’t a hypothetical.

“Let’s not go looking for trouble, please.” Mike muttered, nudging Will’s side. He refrained from kissing the side of his head. “I don’t want anyone to ruin the best night of the year--”

“Again.”

“--again.”

“Don’t worry. I think we’re fine,” Will said, reaching to tap Mike’s faux-armor. “I think we’re safe.” He paused, looking at Mike like they were back in his basement-- or sitting safe by his bed, but hidden from the door-- all alone. “We’re safe, Mike. I can feel it.”

#i loved writing this #but i never want to see it again no offense at my own words #byeler #zombiebowlcut #you're a genius and i love your mind hope u know #the things i would do and write for you #prompts

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silliusssoddus · 6 years ago

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I’d Never Be Angry With You

(Part 2 of “Take Another Piece Of My Heart”) A/N: I’m honestly so surprised and grateful for the of love and support I got from part 1 (which I recommend you read before this). And the amount of people that wanted a part 2?? Wowow thank you so much! So here she is and I’d like to apologise because: TRIGGER WARNING - SUICIDE ATTEMPT/SUICIDAL IDEATIONS I’d like to make it clear that my intentions are in no means to glorify or romanticise suicide. I’m not saying this is how every depressed person acts bc this is written based on my own experiences and thoughts. I do not intend to offend anyone with this. If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or similar please, seek help. You can always talk to me :3 I find talking to be a good way of relieving emotions.

I hope you like it :P and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

A year had whizzed by faster than you could’ve ever imagined. After you left your long term friends, you were surprised at how much free time you had now that you weren’t touring with them or joining them in the studio, watching them fall apart at disagreements. You had moved into your parents’ flat, though they were no longer with you. You had no other place to go and this was the safest place that didn’t draw connections to Queen. Every time you thought about the day you left, you’d suddenly get the urge to hit your head until it’s out of your mind. No matter what, nothing filled the empty space in your heart the boys left and John took up the most space.

You spent the whole day writing the final parts of the note you’d been storing for a few months. You were never serious about it, but lately you were the lowest you ever felt. You couldn’t bear living the lie that you were perfectly fine, that you weren’t lonely all the time from isolating yourself in your flat and only went out to buy groceries every other week or so. Even then, you couldn’t gather the energy to make meals.

The note was your final goodbye to everyone, but more importantly an apology to John for wasting his time with your presence.

You closed the front door of the building and got into your car, driving to what was yours and John's favourite place. It was an isolated field on a massive cliff with a bench and a dim streetlight placed on the side. It was perfect. You parked the car and sat on the bench for a while, going through your note and assuring yourself that this was the only way. You didn’t need to live in shame and embarrassment anymore. It was now or never.

Sighing deeply, you walked closer to the edge, stuffing the note in your pocket. You closed your eyes, ready to lean into the pit, when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

You jumped back and turned around to see who it was. Your face went from shock, to confusion and then to anger. “John? What’re you doing here?” He looked intimidated by your harsh tone. You couldn’t find it in you to feel the slightest bit sympathetic.

“I’ve come here every evening ever since we...” he couldn’t even finish the sentence, you could tell it hurt him to think about. The two of you stood there in silence, awkwardness clearly present. It took him a few seconds to realise what you were about to do.

”Christ, Y/N, get away from the edge.” he said, taking a step closer to you as you took one back. Your heels were hanging dangerously off the cliff.

“If you come any closer I’ll- I’ll do it.” you threatened. He had no idea what he had to do.

“Is this because of me?” he said quietly.

“Y-yeah...no it’s my fault. I just feel bad for wasting so much of your time. I’ve written my guilt - and everything else - down.” you stumbled on your words. Everything you said sounded stupid out loud and your cheeks flared with fire.

“Can I see it?”

You fumbled in your pocket to find your note and reached your arm out for him to take it.

“It’s written for you anyway.” your voice wobbled.

He ran towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the cliff, not giving you time to react. He then slipped the grip on your arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you into a deep hug. It took you by surprise - not having any sort of affection for over a year made you so fragile that his touch triggered a waterfall of tears. You sobbed into his shoulder and whispered apologies as he shushed you and you felt complete. Being in his arms - it felt like home.

“I love you, Y/N.” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. Memories of the break up came flowing back. You pushed him away aggressively, tears turning angrier.

“Force of habit, I’m so sorry-” he blushed, eyes falling to look at his feet. He was visibly embarrassed but you didn’t care. At least he understood how moronic you’ve felt.

“Unbelievable. You broke me - I don’t know who I am anymore! That’s what you did to me!” You tried grabbing the note back, but he pulled his hand away, looking down to read it.

“Forget it. I can’t deal with this right now.”

You stomped off into your car, slammed the door and sped your way home, leaving him to read your pathetic note full of self-hatred.

You were exhausted, sobbing hysterically as you walked into the flat and threw your coat on the hanger. Suddenly, your knees buckled under you and you held onto the walls for support as you made your way into the living room.

“Could you stop pestering me?”

You couldn’t stop the flashbacks.

“I need you to go.”

The clothes you were wearing quickly drenched in sweat as your hot skin stuck to it. You could feel your breathing getting slower and see everything merging into one big blur of darkness before your head hit the ground.

However, you were unaware that John remembered his way to your parents’ flat and it didn’t take him long to find out it’s where you’ve been hiding from him and the world. Why didn’t he go there before? He used the spare key in the plant pot to get into the lobby, something he was used to in your earlier years, and walked up to your flat.

He knocked on the door a few times, but you didn’t respond. He got nervous, knocking more and calling your name through the postbox. You were still unconscious as he opened your door, walking through the flat and trying to find you.

Then, he finally saw you in the middle of your living room floor, unresponsive. He panicked for a few seconds before checking for a pulse, breathing a huge sigh of relief when he found one. He carefully placed a hand on your back, the other under your knees, carrying you into your room. With the same tenderness, he placed you in your bed and tucked the duvet around you.

You woke up to the faint sound of sizzling, worried that you’d be the reason for the building burning down. You got up to investigate the origins of the sound, light-headed and dazed as to how you ended up in your bed. You didn’t remember much of yesterday’s events, until you saw John next to your stove.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Slept well?”

“Was fine.” you looked at him confused. Maybe you were concussed and he was just a hallucination.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he grinned, walking over to check your temperature. Your heart fluttered when his warm hand pressed against your forehead. You shook your head rid of his hand and your feelings.

“Lucky for you, breakfast will be ready in a minute.” He flashed a smile and turned back to the stove. As you made your way to the table, you couldn’t help wondering if there was something you forgot from last night. You thought you’d made your anger toward him clear, so why was he in your house?

“Careful, you’ll shoot lasers into the table if you carry on staring like that.” John showed up in front of you, holding two plates of full English breakfasts. He noticed you rolling your eyes.

“What, you don’t like the food?”

You scoffed, “No, you know it’s my favourite. It’s just- why are you here, John?”

“You really think I would just forget the state I saw you in yesterday?”

“Uh, judging by the terms we left off on, yes.”

You started on the breakfast, eating like there was no tomorrow.

“You really haven’t been taking proper care of yourself, have you?”

“Define “proper care”.” you spoke through the food. You quickly glanced up to see John looking at you, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Look, I’m fine right now, aren’t I? Why are you so worried? Can’t you just leave me alone?” He chuckled quietly, which only sparked more anger in you.

“What?” you retorted.

“That’s the last thing I told you.”

Your face softened, pinching the bridge of your nose and forcing the flashbacks to go away.

“Really, what’s wrong? What drove you to the cliff?”

“My car.” you scoffed, making him put down his knife and fork to look at you with more seriousness.

“Y/N.” he said sharply.

“It is in the note that you stole from me yesterday.”

“I didn’t read it. It made me sick to think about,” his voice cracked and he blinked furiously to stop himself from crying, “my mind was just set on making sure you were still alive.”

This whole time he’d been caring for your you the same way you cared for him. And you’d been denying his care the same way he denied yours. So you told him everything. You told him how the loneliness from not having any family left and losing the only friends you ever had got unbearable.

“But I never said I wanted you out of my life.”

“Then why didn’t you check on me sooner?”

“I told you, I needed time for myself. Everything just got to me after Freddie died, not to mention I was treating you like sh-”

“Woah, language. Didn’t expect that from you.” you gave a small laugh to ease the tone and he joined. You finally felt comfortable talking to him again.

“Y’know, time away from you gave me a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“I think you’re the one,” you dropped your knife and fork and looked at him in shock, “I mean, I’ve always known. Even the band did,” he grinned.

You remember everyone being relieved after you finally got together, calling you the couple that’d never split. Even you believed it, up until that day.

“Freddie and Brian wouldn’t stop talking about fate. Roger, my word Roger, he always made fun of me. He’d ask when his turn was!” he chuckled, his face shortly turning serious. He leant over the table and rested his hands on yours. “And I’ll help you get through this. I promise, you can get through this, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re with me for as long as possible. I’ll get you a therapist. Until then-”

He got out of the chair and headed to your radio, looking through your CDs that haven’t been touched in more than a year while you sat there and felt like a child on Christmas. You didn’t realise how much you missed him rambling about things he was so passionate about. About how much he cared for you. He skipped through many songs on “The Game”, eventually landing on “Need Your Loving Tonight”, a song he wrote.

You felt nostalgia rushing while he hopped around the living room floor, showing off his old Disco Deacy moves. He sang his way over to you, stretching out a hand. You took it and joined him on the floor.

“I said I’d never be angry with you.” you sang along, grinning as he gave you that Deacy smile that would never get old.

The two of you jumped around like mad and you couldn’t stop laughing. He would occasionally spin you or do some other cheesy, romantic moves while the song continued.

“Coz I love her, love her, love her, love her!”

His voice was croaky from the lack of singing over the years and he messed up the lines frequently, but he didn’t care. As long as what he needed to tell you reached you, he was happy. And it did. That euphoric feeling of home filled you to the brim, melting the remaining anger and hurt.

The song had ended but he kept repeating some lyrics. You started crying over how happy you felt, after you’ve beaten yourself up for so long.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get together.”

You nodded enthusiastically, locking your arms around his neck, his hands held your hips as he pulled you into a long-awaited, warm kiss.

“I’ll love you, Deacy, I’ll love you forever.” - Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! As always, criticism is welcomed. Taglist & thank you for the kind messages: @notthebackchat @deakyjohns @tini-monster @fatbottomedgorl @right-til-the-end @endlesslydead @marvellouspengwing @sweetdreamsaremadeofthis27 @heartsarecompatible @fredthelegend @cosmicsskies @deakysgirl

#bohemian rhapsody #queen #john deacon #joe mazzello #joe mazzello as john deacon #john deacon fluff #attempted fluff #I suck #john deacon x reader #queen fanfic #queen fluff #bad writing im sorry #I said id never be angry with you #need your loving tonight

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mandareeboo · 6 years ago

Text

Unfinished Work #24: “Opposite Axes”

Wellll this is less ‘unfinished’ as it is ‘I’mma have to rework the SHIT out of this bc of the special and I can’t NOT put my beautiful Sunstone and co in there somewhere’ so I’mma probably scrap this part of my third in line of the Steven and Fam Fusion Musical Show and redo from step one.

Title: Opposite Axes

"Absolutely not. There's growth and then there's insanity."

"Oh, let's give it a chance, Yellow," Blue pleaded, one hand cupped over her mouth thoughtfully. "Steven's already brought us so many interesting proposals. What's wrong with this one?"

"Interesting?" Yellow repeated dubiously. "Era 3 has been a massive failure so far. Production has gone down by over forty percent!"

"Yes, but they're so much happier."

"They won't be happier when we have no more planet to live on!"

Steven's ears were ringing as the Diamonds' voices began to lift. He puckered his lips and whistled. "Look, I know I'm no good at stats like Pearl is- who, by the way, really wanted to do this presentation, and the fact that you won't even let her in the room is extremely rude-"

"Do you know how undignified it'd be if we-"

"But," he plowed over her. "This will expand production enough to make up for lost time. Pearls are far less destructive to create, and they can be beneficial in so many fields! Just imagine how many happy faces with pointy noses we could make!"

Yellow sighed and pinched the junction of her nose. "It concerns me that we've come to a point where this is making sense," she said wearily. "Listen, Steven. Having an Era 3 Pearl being made without typical refineries and allowed to run wild can cause a lot of trouble for all of us. Especially compared to the older models. We could face a full-on revolution."

"It'd kind of be one we'd deserve, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. But you know as well as I do that there are many Era 1 and 2 Gems who would still leap at the chance to be shattered to protect us. We'd be causing dustshed all across Homeworld."

"I wonder," Blue said, "What an unrefined Pearl would look like?"

"It doesn't matter what they look like," Steven stressed. "What matters is that this is the safest option- for us and for the rest of the galaxy."

"How do you know what's safe or what isn't?" Yellow challenged. "I understand that you were raised with different values, but you can't force change overnight and expect it to right everything."

"I've been working with Homeworld for three years!"

"Three years?" The Diamond stood up, running her fingers through her hair. "Stars help us, it's only been three years. How did we manage to go from galactic superpower to galactic embarrassment in three years?"

Blue took her arm. "Perhaps we should adjourn for now."

"That might be for the best," she reluctantly agreed. Yellow clapped her hands. "That will be all, Steven."

Steven saluted the typical Earth salute, turning away. Frustration bubbled just below the surface, but yelling at Yellow and Blue rarely seemed to do much good. It usually just made it all drag out more.

"He's so different from her," he overheard Blue murmur on the way out. "Yellow, what if he never remembers being Pink?"

Yellow's eyes fluttered shut. "I'm not willing to consider that option, Blue."

Overall, Steven spent the least amount of time on Homeworld as physically possible. As important as maintaining connections was, especially as the fully realized Ambassador of Earth (and, as some Gems felt the need to tack on, Keeper of a Diamond's Stone), there was something about the hard planes and structures that had never quite sat right with him. Unfortunately, Steven couldn't stay away very much anymore, seeing how pivotal his voice was for Era 3.

It had been two weeks since he'd stopped by the beach house, and it was of very little surprise to him that no one else was around when he warped inside- save for Bismuth, of course, who even after almost half a decade of peace refused to even contemplate returning to Homeworld. She tended to the house while they were away, drawing up plans and designs for various Gem machines designed more for safety and protection than war. Not that her impressive sword collection ever had the slightest chance to grow dusty, as she built and sculpted them in her free time.

"Hey," she said, sequestering over half the couch with her size. "How'd it go?"

Steven groaned. "Politics are horrible."

"Yellow being a butthead again?"

He flopped down beside her. "I get why she does it. I do. She asks the questions, I answer, nobody can pull them out later and blindside us. But does she have to be so mean about it?"

"Sounds rough, buddy." Bismuth leaned over to nudge his shoulder. "Hit me up if you ever get sick of hurdles, alright? I'll make you something nice and sharp."

Steven smiled. Homeworld seemed like it was constantly moving in some way or another- hustle and bustle, destruction and construction, who White Diamond was not pleased with that particular day- but the Gems themselves didn't change. He hadn't changed. "Thanks, Bismuth."

He doesn't recall falling asleep.

Connie's official title was Protector of the Ambassador- which is overtly long and means almost nothing to anyone; but, in Homeworld's defense, the Gems have always gone by their type. They've never needed official titles before the Crystal Gems brought them home with them- but most of them just referred to her as The Connie. At thirteen, that had bothered her greatly. At sixteen, she hardly even noticed.

But a lot had changed in three simple years. Connie had nearly tripled in height, finding herself at the same height as Pearl. Her arms and face held a scattering of scars from various violent exchanges as debates had gone on- scars that Steven could have healed up, of course, but Connie had demanded they stay, noticing that the discolorations intimidated Gems. Maybe they were reminded of Jaspers when they saw the scratch that went from her lip and over her eye, or the deep line on her shoulder she had tattooed over with a single star- and, if so, they'd have every right to be frightened. Her sword, made by Bismuth, was swirled with pink and white like a Cookie Cat, tapered to her specific height, and hung carefully from her hip.

Another sign of change was the Gems who met her at the door- not Agates, but an Amethyst and a Ruby, who gave her a respectful salute and sheepish smiles. Connie saluted them back with the signature diamond shape before going inside.

"Diamonds," she greeted, not particularly worried by how they both snapped to attention as she strolled into the room. Connie felt bad for interrupting whatever private moment they'd been sharing, but duty is duty. "I just wanted to stop by and tell you Steven's gone back to Earth for a visit."

"Of course," Yellow said, bitter, as she rubbed at her eyelids. "Make a big speech before vanishing off the planet to goof around with his rebel friends. That's so typical."

"He wants us to bring Pearls into the workforce," Blue explained, as if Connie didn't already know.

"I'm aware, ma'am."

"You were trained by one, correct? What do you think of all of this?"

"I give the proposition my full support, ma'am," Connie said firmly. "No one has the right to tell anyone what they should be, and that's what Homeworld's done for centuries now. If you really wanna change, you have to go all the way."

"Where does that put us, then?" Yellow challenged. "Diamonds are created to rule. If we break all the barriers, what happens to our system?"

"No one ever said it wasn't going to be messy, ma'am."

Yellow seemed to sink under the weight of that statement. For once, it's Blue who says that's all. Connie saluted again and walked back out, wondering with a shake of her head if there had ever been a point to any of this.

Lion seems to enjoy hopping between her and Steven, taking random Ruby ships from Homeworld to Earth and back. Today he's waiting for her outside the palace, eager to get back to what could technically be called an apartment, if apartments didn't require rent or have basic plumbing. In it's own right, it's an honor they even built a room semi-suitable to human cohabitation in the first place for them. It was just a shame that they had such limited knowledge.

The apartment is a perfectly set rectangle in the wall of one of Homeworld's many spires. It's an ugly, washed out shade of blue- like the ocean but ten times less beautiful- and contains exactly one lump that she expected was supposed to be a bed or couch or both. Her parents had insisted on getting her a comfy armchair, which was a brown smudge in the corner. The cherry on top of the horrifyingly ugly color-nightmare was Captain Lars, snoring in said ugly brown chair, in said ugly blue room, his pastel pink skin glaring.

"Back from shipment?" she asked, dismounting Lion.

"Hmm?" Lars tipped his head back, reluctantly opening his eyes. "Oh. Hey. Yeah, I'm back."

"You sound ever so pleased about that."

"I'm bored. Whatever happened to cool boss fights and daring space chases?" He flicked his cape over his shoulder dramatically. "Now I just haul cargo. You're basically a door-holder, and Steven spends his days telling giant Diamonds that maybe people should be allowed to actually think for themselves."

"The cool boss fights and space chases didn't do as much as we hoped, I guess." Connie shrugged, setting her sword aside. "It just kind of evolved into this."

"Hey, I got my buddies to Earth just fine."

"I know, and it was awesome." A giggle erupted from her, remembering her involvement fondly. "They still tell stories about you in the public octagon. Especially the Emeralds."

Lars clicked his tongue and shot some finger guns her way.

#Unfinished Work #Fanfic Preview Monday #Opposite Axes #Steven Universe #Steven Quartz Universe #Yellow Diamond #Blue Diamond #Lion #Connie Maheswaran #Lars Barriga #Bismuth

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