#there was one guy who felt the need to call me a fetus almost every time we interacted. that got old REAL fast lemme just say

[practically-an-x-man]

You’re 19?!? I thought you were at least 22

lol i get that a lot, both online and in person. apparently i look and act a lot older than i actually am lmao

yeah i'm 19

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

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[vacant--body]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of unaliving self, PTSD, Bucky have flash backs, vomiting, loss of pregnancy, ED if you squint, lots and lots and lots of angst. sad, saaaad, Bucky :(

female!reader x steve and bucky love triangle (not as much here)

Side note: HI! I'M SO SORRY! I LOVE YOU ALL:) *also if the text is in italics it means there's a flashback*

part 1

��~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

It had been almost a month since Bucky had last seen Y/N. Tony and Steve thought it was best for Y/N to be admitted to the psychiatric ward at the near by hospital. But you have been gone a month. And you didn't put Bucky down on the approved list of people that could come visit you. The only thing he had left of you was the last conversation you guys had, and it was slowly driving him insane.

"Bucky? Where are they taking me? I don't wanna go." You were still loopy from the anesthesia Banner had used during your surgery. The way you were talking to him made it seem like you had just forgotten everything that had happened over the last 3 months.

"Shh, it's okay." Bucky said softly. Talking still hurt his throat. "But you gotta. You gotta get better, okay?" You nodded and sniffled. "Don't cry doll. It's all gonna be okay." He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, like he always did when you were upset.

"What happened to your face?" You muttered, your fingers grazing across the cut on his cheek bone. Bucky flinched at your touch, not wanting to remember how it felt.

"Don't worry, doll. Just get some rest. I'll see you soon." Bucky stood up from beside the cot and nodded at the paramedics who were standing close by to take you to the hospital.

"Bucky?" You asked quietly.

"Yeah, doll?" He could feel the hot tears in his eyes getting ready to spill over.

"I love you."

"Bucky," Sam tapped his shoulder. "Are you listening?"

"Sorry." He mumbled. "Just thinking." He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, wringing his hands together.

"I asked how you were doing?" Sam repeated.

"I'm fine."

"Don't do that Buck." He scoffed, slumping into his chair. "You gotta talk about this shit, man. And I know you normally talk to Steve but-"

"Sam, don't."

"Bucky-"

"I don't need your fucking pity.” Bucky growled, getting to his feet. Sam stared into his eyes with exactly what Bucky was upset about; pity.

"I am trying, damnit." Sam seethed through his teeth. "I am trying to hold you together and I am trying to hold Steve together. I hate being the middle man but if you two want to act like you're in high school and give each other the silent treatment, then I'll do it. I don't like seeing my friends hurting." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "You are very clearing showing signs of PTSD, and if you just let me help you, I can try to make it better."

"Everyone hates me, Sam." Bucky changed the subject.

"No, they don't. They're worried about you." Sam tossed his arms up in the air, exasperated. "You and Steve lost so much in one night, they're scared for you. They are mourning with you, Bucky. Please understand that."

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I gotta go, this was pointless."

"Bucky-" He didn't hear what else Sam had to say before he shut the door to his office behind him and stormed down the hallway. He scoffed and shook his head. Fucking therapy. Tony had forced him to go or else he was sending him some place like Y/N was. He didn't need it anybody’s help, he was fine.

Bucky had wondered around the compound for hours after been you’d taken away, unsure of where he was going. This place felt so empty without Y/N here. He felt so empty. He found himself standing outside Steve's room after walking for hours. The sun was starting to rise now. His arm jerked as if he wanted to knock on the door, but he couldn't do it.

Then why did he knock?

Steve opened the door and was standing in front of him, eyes red from crying. His hair a mess. He definitely didn't look like the calm and collected Captain America.

"What the fuck do you want?" He spat, glaring down at his best friend.

"I-" Bucky was at a loss for words. "I don't know."

Steve laughed bitterly. "Get the fuck out of my face before I knock your teeth out."

"Steve, please-" Bucky's voice broke. "I need-I need you. Please."

"You need me?" Steve hissed. "What about what I need, huh? Does how I feel just not matter to you?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, staring down at his feet. He couldn’t look Steve in the eyes any longer.

“You were fucking her.” Steve laughed, almost as it was a joke. “You were fucking my girl. You got my girl pregnant, and she tried to kill herself. Because of you, Bucky. So get out of my face. I don’t care what you have to say.”

"You're the only one-" Bucky tried desperately. He needed to talk. And Steve was the only one who understood.

"Save it, I don't wanna hear it. You ever show up at my door again," He took a deep breath, his eyes falling on the bruising cut that was on his cheek. "I won't stop this time." Steve slammed the door in Bucky's face.

Bucky was standing in front of Y/N's room. The door had long opened and an empty room was staring back. After you had left, Pepper and Nat had cleaned your room up the best that they could. While cleaning they had found an ultrasound picture hidden away in your nightstand. Nat said she wanted to throw it out but Pepper stole it from her and brought it to Bucky one evening. Bucky didn't know what to do with it so he brought it back to your room, stashing it away where you had kept it. He didn't want to take anything out of your room for when you came back. He wanted it to look like how you had left it. Well- before you destroyed it anyway.

Bucky slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning at the sudden weight on it. No one had sat here in a long time. Bucky heaved a sigh and hung his head, his long hair made a curtain around his face. You were always telling him to cut it.

A frown crept onto his lips, silently cursing himself. You teasing him about his hair is was started this whole thing. It was 4 months ago, you guys had most of the compound to yourself and were passing the time playing a drinking game.

He still remembers the smile on your face when you had brought up his hair, thinking it was hilarious how it was so long. Your laugh was more intoxicating than the alcohol the two of you were consuming. He just couldn't stop staring at you, your beautiful eyes, your hair that smelled like lavender, your gorgeous smile. And every time you leaned over it would expose your cleavage from the top of the thin tank top you had on. By the time you were done giggling Bucky had leaned in and grabbed your face, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You were stunned at first but quickly gave into his advances, as you had been waiting for this moment too.

A noise outside the room made Bucky snap back to reality.

"Thought I would find you here." A soft voice whispered. It was Nat. She gave him a soft smile before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. "It okay if I sit?" Bucky shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Sam said you're having a bad day."

"Sam doesn't know shit."

"I know some days are tougher than others. You seemed to be doing okay last week. Actually saw you smile." She laughed quietly. Bucky didn't say anything. "She's not dead, Bucky."

"Why the fuck-"

"Shut up and listen." Any hint of kindness in her voice was gone. "I'm not like Sam, I'm not gonna coddle you. She is alive and is doing better, I just came from the hospital."

"We'll I'm glad you got to see her." He scoffed.

"I know you're not gonna hear what I have to say, but just listen to this- you are not alone, Bucky. Okay? I know none of that matters because you don't have the people you love most around you. But the rest of us are you for you, and Steve. Okay?" Bucky opened his mouth to snap something back but Nat held up her hand. "Just tell me you understand, okay? Because if I have to clean up one more persons blood off the floor I am going to loose my mind."

Bucky sighed and nodded his head. "Okay. I understand." Nat patted him on the shoulder before standing up and left the room. A tear dribbled down his cheek and he quickly whipped it away. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone?

Absolutely exhausted, he kicked his shoes off and laid down, not wanting to pick himself up and walk back to his room. Everything just felt too heavy. His eyes slowly fluttered shut, no matter how hard Bucky fought against it. But it was just too heavy.

"Hey, I need to talk to you." Banner said quietly, standing in Bucky's door way.

"What?" Bucky grumbled from his spot on the bed. "If it's about checking my head, I don't want to hear it. I'm fine, he didn’t hit me that hard.”

"No, it's not that. I need to know-"

"Then what?"

"I need to know what you want to do with the fetus...the baby." He shifted his weight back and forth.

A heavy silence surrounded the two of them. "Why me?" Bucky croaked out finally.

"Well, you're the father and-"

"Don't. Don't call me that." Bucky pointed a stern finger at him Bruce stood there awkwardly, waiting for Bucky to tell him what to do. He blinked back a few tears and cleared his throat. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well, everyone else thinks you should bury him."

Him. It was a boy. Bucky was going to have a son. His son. Y/N's son. Our son.

"Then bury him."

"I think you should go."

"I don't want to."

"Bucky, please. You need to cope."

"Oh yeah, and how should I do that, doctor?" Bucky snapped back. Bruce sighed, defeated. "Go fucking burry the thing and get over it. I don't want to be there, got it?" Why was he saying this? That's not what he wanted to say.

"Okay. Sorry for bothering you." Banner exited his room in a defeated sigh, his shoulder hunched over.

Some more time ticked by before there was another knock on the door. Bucky jumped slightly as he just starting to fall asleep. He hadn't slept in about two days and it was starting to take a toll on him. The evening sun cast shadows that danced around in his dark room.

"Bruce I swear-" He opened the door and stepped back, surprised. It was Pepper. She smiled shyly at him. Bucky thinks she hasn't said more than 10 words with him since he came to live at the compound a year ago. Mostly just awkward good mornings when they came into the kitchen at the same time to get coffee. Pepper always got up early but Bucky was fed up of trying to fall asleep.

"Oh. Did...did you need something?" He asked looking down at her. Pepper wasn't as hard as everyone else at the compound, she hasn’t seen the things everyone else had. He had barely spoken to her and there were already tears forming in her eyes.

"Nat-" She cleared her throat and attempted to wipe the tears away from her eyes. "Nat and I were cleaning up Y/N's room, so it won't be a mess when she comes back. And we'll we found this." She held out some grainy pictures. Bucky wasn't sure what he was looking at.

"What are these?" He muttered, taking them from her.

"They're ultrasound pictures. I guess she knew..." She cleared her throat again, fighting back the urge to cry. "Sorry. I guess she knew about the pregnancy. Nat wanted to throw them out but I thought you should have them."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He didn't want to open his mouth and rip Peppers head off, because he knew that she was just trying to be nice. Trying to make him feel better, but honestly it was just making him feel worse. If you knew you were pregnant why did you try to kill yourself? Or is that why you tried to kill yourself?

Before he could think of what to say, a sob ripped through his chest, his knees giving out under him. Pepper moved quickly to his side and threw her small body against Bucky's, wrapping him up in a hug. She tried to hold him up the best she could, but they crumpled to the ground together.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky." She cried. Her hands grabbed the back of his shirt, like she was trying to keep him from falling apart. It wasn’t working. It felt like someone was chiseling away at his heart. He clutched the ultrasound pictures to his chest, another sob wracking through his body. He wanted Y/N. He wanted you here with him, mourning the loss of your child together. "I'm so sorry." Pepper repeated. Bucky gently pushed her away and tried to calm himself down.

"Thank you for these, Pepper." He babbled. "But I need to be alone. Please leave me alone." She shook her head at what he was saying and tried to protest. He held up his hand to stop her. “Go. Just go.” He pleaded. Finally, she left him there, sitting in the door way, holding the only pictures of his son that he would ever get.

Bucky woke up with a gasp, his clothes were soaked and sticking to his skin from his sweat and it felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest, his stomach churning in knots. He scrambled out your bed and into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. These fucking dreams would not leave him alone. Ever since you left that's all he was able to dream about.

He spilled his guts out a few more times before slumped down beside the toilet, he shoved his head in hands and took a few deep breathes, trying to ease his spinning head. He gagged at the taste of vomit in his mouth and spit into the toilet again. Standing up shakily, he looked at himself in the mirror that was above the sink. He hated the person looking back. He looked sick, disgusting.

Saying Bucky looked rough was an understatement. His eyes were sunken in, which were accompanied by dark bags. His hair was ratty and dull and he hadn't trimmed his beard in weeks. He had also lost weight and muscle mass from not being able to eat. He couldn't. The only thing he was able to keep down was chicken broth and he hardly even eat that. He had no desire to work out either. His metal arm, which he usually polished at least once a week was dull too. And covered in scratches from him clawing at it in the middle of the night.

Bucky sighed heavily and rinsed his mouth and face with water. Patting his face dry with a towel he realized for the first time, he was starving. He could smell someone cooking bacon down in the kitchen and it made his mouth water.

Maybe Sam was right, Bucky did need to talk about this. Or maybe Steve was the one who was right. This was all his fault. He made the first move on you. The baby was his. Everything was his fault. Maybe if he had just left you alone, none of this would have happened. He couldn’t think straight anymore, nothing made sense without you here.

He pushed his thoughts out of his head as he remade your bed. Picking up his boots from off the ground, he slowly made his way back to his room. It was a hot mess inside, more than normal. Bucky doesn't remember the last time he picked anything up. He discarded his sticky clothes and got into the shower, letting the hot water fall over his skin. He hummed contently as he washed his hair, yanking to get the knots out. While he was in there he trimmed his beard the best he could without looking in a mirror.

Getting out and rubbed the steam off the mirror and looked at himself again. His beard and his hair looked better, but his eyes still looked empty. He still felt empty. Bucky tossed on some clothes that smelled the cleanest, which happened just an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

Taking a deep breath he left his room, or his cave, as Sam called it, and went down to the kitchen. It seemed like everyone was there, talking and laughing together. Bucky felt an instant nauseous feeling build in his stomach as eyes fell on him. He felt like an outsider, no, he was an outsider. Always has been as always will be

"Hey, Buck." Sam greeted, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. "There's coffee in the pot if you want some." Bucky gave him a small smile and poured himself a cup, and grabbed a few pieces of bacon and fruit that was cut up. He sat down beside Sam and cleared this throat. Sam looked down at the small amount of food that Bucky had gathered and frowned slightly, but refrained from saying anything. He should be glad he was eating at all.

"Where's Steve at this morning?" Bucky asked, taking a sip of coffee, which stung going down his throat.

"Oh, he went to visit Y/N." Sam replied nonchalantly.

"Hm." Bucky stared down at his food, which suddenly repulsed him. Maybe this was a mistake, he should have stay in his room. Sam silently cursed himself for bring you up and tried to change the conversation.

"Sleep any better last night?" Sam questioned.

"A little. Fell asleep about an hour after we got done talking." He shrugged. “Woke up a little bit ago.”

"So you slept for 14 hours?" Sam chuckled. "We got done talking at 5, so you were out for 14 hours. I'd call that pretty good sleep."

"Doesn't mean it was restful."

"It's still a good thing that you slept through the night." Sam took a bite out of his bacon. "Oh my god, I swear Vision makes the best food." He goaded. Sam was obviously trying to get Bucky to eat.

"I know." Bucky faked a smile as he couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to get sick again. The feeling suddenly got overwhelming and he suddenly stood to his feet, his chair scrapping loudly against the floor, which caused everyone to stop and look. They watched as Bucky disappeared down the hall to the bathroom.

There was nothing in Bucky's stomach for him to throw up, besides that little bit of coffee. He was now just dry heaving, spit trickling down his chin. He just wanted this to go away, why couldn't it go away? Bucky heaved into the toilet one last time before picking his head up, wiping away the spit that was now traveling down his neck. He noticed there was a slight red tinge to it.

He brought his knees up to his chest and his hands shook as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. The room was spinning, he was so dizzy. His mouth felt he had just chewed on chalk. He was a super solider, god damn it. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Something wasn’t right.

He slowly got to his feet, hanging onto the sink for support. Slowly he made his way back to the kitchen, leaning against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over. He just needed to get to Banner. Banner would know what to do.

Back in the kitchen, Bucky could hardly see. His vision was darkening and his ears were ringing. He could feel eyes on him. Gripping the wall for support, he dry heaved again. “Bucky?” Someone asked, concern in their voice. That voice. He knew that voice.

“Y/N?” He panted, his head snapping up. The quick action made his head spin and his grip on the wall loosened. He caught a glimpse of you right before he fell on his face, vision going black, everything falling silent.

part 3

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25

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2005

It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.

As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 

There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 

“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 

I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 

“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.

The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 

“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 

“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 

Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 

I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.

- 

I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 

I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 

Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.

"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"

“Very pregnant.”

"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 

“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"

“About as well as you can imagine.” 

“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 

"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.

“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”

He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.

“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”

Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"

"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.

“Have any names picked out?”

"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 

"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 

"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”

"Maybe that would be a little too much."

“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself

-

"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.

"Nicholas?” He asked again.

"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 

“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.

He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"

I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 

Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 

-

My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.

"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 

 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 

"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."

The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 

"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 

"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.

"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"

I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"

“What?”

"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 

"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.

It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 

"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.

"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”

Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."

"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  

"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 

"Here we go agai-" 

"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.

"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 

“Nicholas.”

"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.

"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 

"You have my word." 

I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 

He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too.”

- 

"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 

A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 

"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 

He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 

Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 

"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 

"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 

There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 

Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 

“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.

“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 

Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 

Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 

“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 

“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”

“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 

“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 

“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 

“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 

He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 

“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 

“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 

“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 

“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”

Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.” 

“I didn’t think you liked it.” 

I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”

“Riiiiight.” 

By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 

“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."

We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.

"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.

"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."

I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."

Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 

My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."

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

Read part 26 here!

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surprise! ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1078

request: yes!

@kellysimagines: “I was wondering if you could do an imagine with this video. Like where he is on hotel diablo tour and she tells him shes pregnant on facetime and she films it cause she is a vlogger”

description: while on tour, colson receives the best news of his life

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, but mainly lots of fluff!

You paced the room anxiously, a mixture of excited and incredibly nervous. You glanced at your phone every now and then, almost willing it to ring. Colson was at a soundcheck, but promised you he would call you the minute it was over. That was a little over an hour ago, which meant he should be finishing soon and calling you at any moment. You weren’t sure if you were excited for the phone to ring, or nervous. You tried to convince yourself not to be nervous, this was good news, he was going to be excited! But it was easier to say that than to believe it.

To calm your nerves, you pulled out your vlogging camera and decided to do the one thing that always calmed you down - filming.

You held your camera at an arm’s length away and hit record.

“Hey guys!” you started with a cheery smile. “It’s me, but you already knew that. Currently at my house on this beautiful day waiting for Colson to FaceTime me. It’s been super sucky since he left, I miss him so much, but he’s been killing it on his Hotel Diablo tour. If you guys have seen him live at any of his dates, comment down below what you thought of the show and what was your favourite song.”

As you went to continue speaking, your phone chimed. You looked down to see that it was Colson trying to FaceTime you. Your heart began to beat so fast you were sure it was going to beat out of your chest. You reached down for your phone, still filming on your camera, and set the phone up on your desk. You set up your camera in a way that Colson wouldn’t see it, and made sure that you had everything.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down before answering.

Colson’s face popped up on the screen. When he saw that you had answered, he smiled brightly, causing you to smile. He really knew how to calm you down, even when he didn’t even know you were upset.

“Hi baby,” he said. “You wanted me to call? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “I just miss you.”

Colson laughed. “Really? You texted me to ask me to call you right away because you miss me?”

You scoff. “Is that so hard to believe? You’ve been gone for months! I don’t get to see you all that often besides the odd FaceTime every now and then. I miss you!”

“Fine,” Colson laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll believe you that’s all you wanted to say.”

“Well actually,” you said, looking down at your hands. It was now or never. “I went to the doctor today.”

Colson’s eyebrow shot up in concern. “What? How come? Are you okay baby?”

You nod quickly. “Oh yeah! I’m fine! I was just feeling really sick, bad stomach, headaches, all that. I thought at first it was just a stomach bug, but it was lasting a while so I went to the doctor just to make sure everything was okay. He said all is fine, I’m healthy as a horse.”

Colson nodded. “Okay, that’s good. You had me worried there. So, what was it?”

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as you reached beside you to grab the ultrasound. “It’s this little guy.”

You held up the picture of the little fetus currently growing inside your stomach for Colson to see. He was silent for a moment, just staring at the screen. Your heart immediately dropped to your stomach as you waited for his reaction. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure that he was going to be okay with it. The longer he didn’t talk, the more your worry grew.

You opened your mouth to say something, or rather to beg him to say something, when suddenly he stood up and exclaimed with excitement, startling you and anyone else who was in the room with him (as it seemed he wasn’t alone).

“Holy fuck!” he screamed. “Oh my fucking God!”

You laughed as you watched him get up and literally do a jump for joy. He took a minute to get his excitement out before quickly grabbing his phone again. “Show it to me again, baby. Just so I know I didn’t just see things.”

You were smiling like an idiot as you held up the ultrasound again. You could see the tears starting to form in Colson’s eyes as he attempted to blink them away. “Oh my God, is that real?”

“It’s so real,” you responded. “If you need further proof, I have these.” You held up the two positive pregnancy tests you had taken before going to the doctor, the two things that pushed you to make the appointment. “I made another appointment the day after you’re supposed to get home if you wanna see the ultrasound for yourself, then we have the appointment to find out the gender in a few months time.”

“How far along are you?” Colson asked. “Wait, stupid question, I’ve been on tour for like three months, you gotta be at least that, right?”

“I’m like two months along,” you told him. “They say that it takes a month for the conception to set in or some shit.”

“Do you have a bump yet?”

You giggled as you stood up to show Colson your slightly bloated stomach. It didn’t poke out enough for it to be super noticeable yet, but you could see the slightest bit of weight you had already put on.

Colson howled with excitement yet again. “That’s my baby mama!”

The guys in the room, his band and his closest friends, got up to congratulate him and you. Happiness was hitting you in waves as Colson continued to talk about his excitement for the baby. Suddenly, you felt extremely silly for even worrying. You knew this would end up good and you would both be happy.

When Colson finally hung up, after having to be convinced by his friends because he had to get ready for the show, you put your phone down and picked up your camera, almost forgetting it was recording. “I’ll have to see how much of that Colson will actually be okay with me using. This probably won’t be up for a long time, I’ll wait for him to come home before I put it up. But there you guys go, Baby Baker #2 is on the way!”

Omg this is so short I’m so sorry :/ I hope you enjoyed either way!

[heauxplesslydevoted]

The Night Before

Pairing: Thomas Mendez x MC (Marissa Day)

Summary: It’s the night before her custody hearing and insomnia has Marissa caught in a vice like grip. 

Warnings: NSFW. 18+

Tags: @princess-geek @chetachisblog @dorishi-desu @hatescapsicum@annekebbphotography @drakewalkerfantasy @seriouslyices @zambazeus @loilko @blackcoffee85 @randomchoicesblog @fortunatelywaywardsandwich@canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ao719

~~

It’s the night before her custody hearing (or morning of, depending on your perspective) and Marissa Day cannot sleep. And it’s not for a lack of trying on her part because she’s tried everything. Warm milk, counting sheep, a sleeping pill, the works.

She rolls over and looks at the time on the alarm clock. 2:43 AM stares back at her in bright red letters, almost as if it’s mocking her. She has to be up in less than 5 hours, and she hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

Rolling over in bed, Marissa gently collides with the warm body next to her. Thomas is next to her, an arm draped loosely around her waist. The girls wanted to have another sleepover, and Marissa didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts the night before the biggest day of her life, so she eagerly accepted another chance to sleep at the Mendez house.

He’s sleeping so peacefully beside her, and she almost resents him for it. How dare he sleep like a baby while she’s a neurotic mess?

She turns slightly and takes in his sleeping form. Thomas looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. The stress of the day is gone, and he’s relaxed. His breathing is even, there’s no crinkle in his forehead, his muscles are loose. 

And while he looks like a peaceful sleeping angel, she still wants to wake him up, as selfish as it sounds.

“Thomas?” She calls gently. It doesn’t work and he stays asleep. “Thomas, wake up.”

Craning her head, Marissa leans forward and kisses his jaw, his stubble slightly tickling her mouth. He stirs, but doesn’t wake up. This time, she moves lower, leaving soft pecks on the column of his neck.

“Mhmm, Marissa,” Thomas mumbles. Marissa smirks in satisfaction. She has him.

She slips out of his grasp, and swings her legs on either side of his hips so she can straddle him. Her fingertips run along the smooth plane of his chest and his broad shoulders, and she feels him tense underneath her.

After a bit more coaxing, Thomas’s eyes slowly open. After taking a minute to adjust, they settle on the woman currently sitting on him. “What’re you doing, Riss?”

“I can’t sleep,” she confesses. “And misery loves company.”

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Very early,” Marissa replies. Thomas looks at the time and snorts. She wasn’t kidding.

“You need to go to bed,” Thomas says matter-of-factly. “We have an extremely hectic day ahead of us.”

Marissa knows that already. She resists the urge to roll her eyes and say “thanks, Captain Obvious,”—snark is one of her favorite coping mechanisms, but her brain simply won’t turn off. If she could sleep, she would.

Instead she just looks at. His hair is wild and tousled, his pretty blue-grey eyes are soft and droopy with tiredness. He’s so damn handsome, even when she’s depriving him of sleep.

Leaning down, her lips meet his in a soft kiss, and if he wasn’t awake before, he is now. He responds to the kiss quickly, his hands getting lost in her copper tresses as he pulls her closer.

Never one to miss a beat, Thomas rolls them over so he’s the one on top. His tongue invades her mouth quickly and she arches into the kiss. No matter how close they get, it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Not breaking the kiss, Thomas slides a hand under the shirt Marissa is wearing. It’s his, a ratty old thing he got from his college bookstore, and it practically swallows the petite woman up. Her skin is warm and soft, and he can feel her shiver as he lifts the shirt up and his hand settles on her ribcage, holding her in place.

Breaking the kiss, Thomas kisses her cheek and across her jawline, paying special attention to the sensitive spot near her pulse point.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” Thomas says. He nips at the skin, careful not to leave any visible marks. They still have court in a few short hours. The judge won’t appreciate hickeys.

“Then keep going,” Marissa pleads softly.

“I intend to.”

While he continues his assault on her neck, the hand that’s not pinning her down to bed idly traces circles into the skin of her outer thigh. Marissa writhes under him. They haven’t even done anything yet, and here she is, so fucking desperate and needy for his touch.

Thomas prides himself on being observant, and there’s not much he can’t sense about Marissa at this point. He knows she’s getting impatient, but he doesn’t speed up on her account. 

He nudges her legs open and she eagerly spreads them for him. “You know, I’m not a betting man, Marissa Day. But if I had to make one right now, I’d bet every dollar I own that you’re already wet for me.” His fingers skim the outside of the flimsy piece of lace she calls underwear. “Even better, you’re soaked.”

Marissa bites down firmly on her lip in order to stop the moan that’s in her throat from slipping out. The last thing she needs to do is wake up their kids with her extremely pornographic sound effects.

Her breath hitches slightly as she felt one of his fingers pressing against her. But it isn’t nearly enough and she rolls her hips in an attempt to create more friction, but he doesn’t stop, or speed up. When did he become such a tease?

Her eyelids flutter shut as he continues his slow torture. “Stop teasing me.”

Thomas chuckles softly, his breath tickling her neck. His tongue traces the shell of her ear before capturing her earlobe between his teeth. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Deciding to keep her panties on, Thomas simply moves them aside and plunges two fingers into her without warning. Her lower half shoots off of the bed on its own volition and she mewls in satisfaction. “Oh, fuck!”

“Language,” Thomas chides playfully.

Marissa barely registers the fact that he’s still talking, much too caught up in what his incredibly skilled fingers are doing to her. Her fingers tangle themselves in the soft bed sheets in a feeble attempt to keep herself arching completely off of the bed.

A soft sigh followed by his name slips from between her lips and it might be hotter than any scream or moan Thomas ever coaxed out of her. He shifts his weight kisses down her stomach. “That’s it. Say my name again.”

“Thomas...,” Marissa repeats, her voice taking on a higher pitch as he curls his fingers inside her, twisting them slightly. “Oh god. Please. Please, don’t stop.”

She can feel her orgasm building, and she almost hates Thomas for it. For how he leaves her feeling a desperate, achy hot mess. For how good he is at this and how fast he can make her come. It isn’t fair. But she can’t, because she adores him for it all the same. Thomas knows she’s close too, her walls tightening around his fingers. His head moves lower until his lips wrap securely around their clit, sucking gently on the tiny bundle of nerves. She grips the back of his head, her fingers curling into his soft brown hair, holding him in place as her hips roll against him, grinding into his face as his fingers and tongue continue to work on her. And that’s all it takes. Before she can say anything, she’s hurtling, careening over the edge. Her eyes screw shut and she clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that threatens to leave.

Thomas removes his fingers from her slick heat and plants a single kiss on the inside of her trembling thigh. She shudders involuntarily at the simple action, way too sensitive and overstimulated.

When she finally regains the strength to re-open her eyes, she catches the sight of Thomas licking his fingers clean. “You taste like heaven on earth.”

 “You...are way too good at that,” Marissa pants. A blush spreads across his cheeks at the compliment. How is he blushing when he just had his head between her thighs?

“Happy to oblige.” Marissa reaches up in front of her, palming his length through his cotton pajama pants, but Thomas grips her wrist, putting a stop to her actions.

“What? You don’t want me to return the favor?”

“I’m good. As fun as it is to be woken up by a beautiful woman in my bed, you need to get some sleep. We have a huge day ahead of us.”

Thomas pulls her into his side as they settle back onto the bed. They stay like this for a few minutes, and Marissa finally feels herself coming back down to earth. Her heart isn’t racing as fast, and the room stops spinning.

Despite the orgasm Thomas just bestowed upon her and the heaviness in her bones, she’s still entirely too keyed up to go to sleep. Something might seriously be wrong with her if not even sex can make her sleep. “You’re going to hate me.”

“I couldn’t possibly hate you,” Thomas argues.

“I can’t go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Thomas rolls over and turns on his bedside lamp. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“It’s been a hectic few weeks and yes, I’m absolutely exhausted, but I have the biggest day of my life ahead of me and–”

“And you’re nervous,” Thomas concludes.

Marissa snorts. “I passed nervous about 3 hours ago.”

“I can’t imagine how scary this has all been for you, but you have no reason to be nervous.”

“Really? Because it feels like the deck is stacked against me. Let’s count all the ways, shall we? I got fired a few weeks ago and the only place that wants to hire me is a fast food restaurant for a graveyard shift, Ivy has had two allergy attacks while in my care, and I’m broke, which is apparently a cardinal sin in this town, worse than murder. And no matter what I do, Guy and Vanessa have managed to spin everything in his favor. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t work during our marriage and that he took off. It doesn’t matter that he’s a gaslighting asshole, and he’s dating someone who is practically a fetus, and he didn’t take Ivy’s soy allergy into consideration, and he forgot our daughter’s birthday. He can do all of that and still come up smelling like roses. No matter what, he just seems to fail upwards.”

“I know in my heart that I’m the best parent for Ivy, but I can’t escape the dread I feel, th-this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that he’s going to snatch her away from me without as much as a backwards glance. I feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare and I can’t wake up no matter how hard I try.”

Marissa doesn’t realize she’s crying until Thomas catches a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Every time I feel like I’m finally hitting my stride, Guy comes in and torpedoes everything,” she continues. “It’s how he’s always been.”

“It stops today,” Thomas says.

“How are you so sure?”

“Yes Guy has money, but having money has never been a good indicator of good parenting. You are strong, and selfless, and compassionate. You are Ivy’s best parent, her only parent. You raised a thoughtful, kind, brilliant little girl with no help from the sperm donor who left you. Ivy hasn’t just survived for 10 years, she’s thrived, and it’s all thanks to you. Guy and Vanessa are going to use your weaknesses and vulnerabilities against you but that only because they have absolutely no offense. They can’t prove on their own that he’s better, so they’re going to paint you as worse. But it’s not going to work. I still have a lot of fight left in me, and yes we’re close to the end, but I need you to stick it out. I will never let you lose your daughter. Never.”

Marissa inhales sharply, trying to let Thomas’s words sink in.

“Do you trust me?” Thomas asks.

“Of course.”

“Good. Then believe me when I say we’re going to win.” Marissa nods. “Say it.”

“We’re going to win.”

“Again.”

“We’re going to win,” Marissa repeats.

“Damn right we are.” Thomas grabs Marissa and kisses her softly. “I just need you to believe in yourself the way I believe in you, and see yourself the way I see you. I’m not kidding when I say you’re the best parent I know.”

Marissa leans forward and rests her head on Thomas’s shoulder. She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry that I ruined our moment. Nothing kills the mood quicker than talking about your asshole of an ex-husband and a custody hearing.”

“It’s okay. You’re always welcome to vent to me, no matter the circumstances.”

“Thank you. I needed this pep talk.”

“No need to thank me when I’m simply telling the truth.”

“And thanks...for the orgasm.”

That manages to get a laugh out of him, a deep laugh, one from his chest. “I think you’re the first person to ever thank me for something like that. You don’t need to thank me for that either. But you’re welcome.”

The two of them fall back into bed, a mess of tangled limbs. Thomas wraps his arms tightly around Marissa, giving her no wiggle room, no opportunities to toss and turn.

He kisses the top of her head. “Get some sleep.”

Ironically enough, being crushed underneath the weight of Thomas Mendez in his ridiculously large king-sized bed, for the first time in weeks, Marissa actually feels like she can breathe. And she finally does doze off to sleep.

[petitelepus]

Killer May, Part 31, The Baby

The end is now.

You hummed under your breath as you chopped the vegetables for your and Huntress' supper. There was a sound of footsteps and soon the taller Killer walked into your shared kitchen, Wraith following close behind. You turned towards them and smiled.

"Food is almost done! I just need some protein for it!"

The taller Killers shared a glance between each other and took a seat around the small self-build table. You were all singing and humming as you moved to the cutting board where you held the meat. No fear there, it was a rabbit's meat. You started to chop the meat into nice pieces and dropped them into the kettle.

The Huntress got up and walked up to you. You heard her coming and turned to greet her when she suddenly took a hold of your shoulders and pressed you against her in a hug. You were surprised but hugged her back as a good daughter would. She pulled away first and looked at you, placing her hand over your stomach.

"Girl... Not alone." She said and you almost dropped the wooden spoon in shock. You hadn't told her so how did she know? Those words took you back to your appointment with the Doctor.

Susie had managed to find the mad Killer and brought him to you when you were wailing on the ground in pain. He had easily picked you up and carried you through the Mist to his realm, Susia trailing behind you close by.

The Doctor had taken your blood, urine sample, and made you lay down as he pumped some painkillers into you. Susie was there every step of the researches, never wandering too far from you. When you weren't in pain anymore, the Doctor pulled your pants down and spread your legs as he ventured into your sex. Finally, after so many tests he was done.

"Well, I must admit, you keep surprising me time after another!" The Doctor cackled as he looked through his medical map. You groaned and glared at him. "Do you know what is wrong with me or should I go and plan your torture slash murder?"

"No need for the violence!" He laughed. You growled but Susie squeezed your hand in her hands and it calmed you down. The Doctor put the map down and smiled even wider if that was even possible. "You're simply carrying."

"I'm... what?" You asked in shock. The Doctor smiled. "Darling, you're carrying a small fetus inside you."

This was the moment when Susie joined the conversation. "Like, is there a baby inside her stomach?"

The tall man nodded. "Affirmative."

"Wait, I'm pregnant!? How and who!?" You asked out loud and he shrugged. "Beats me! Who has had a moment with your vagina?"

You wondered if you should tell him, but you also knew that hiding things from him wouldn't turn out great. You opened your mouth, ready to answer when he suddenly held his hand up. "That was a rhetorical question! I don't care who did it, the truth is that someone was poking your cervix with their dick!"

Susie looked curious to see what would happen, but she held her tongue. You grimaced and the Doctor papped your leg, silently telling you to shut them. You didn't wait for him to tell you with words so you closed your legs, jumped off from the table, and pulled your pants up. "So, why I'm suddenly craving for... You know...?"

"As for your sudden appetite for humans flesh goes...!" He grinned, "I'm not an expert but I think your baby there isn't satisfied by a simple Borscht soup!"

"Speaking of this baby still...!" You pointed at your stomach. "I died after sex with Myers last time! Shouldn't my body reset itself?"

The Doctor suddenly went quiet and he just stared at you. Finally, he nodded, "The plans have changed. You're no longer just a chew toy for us so don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He said and you frowned. "What are you up to...?"

"Nothing! Just looking up for the unborn!" He laughed before he leaned down to whisper in your ear. What you heard made your stomach flip and your blood freeze in your veins.

"That's the Entity there in your womb so if I was you I would make sure to give the God of this realm of ours all it craves for."

And that brought you modern time, where you were making final supper for your the Huntress and Wraith. The tall woman hugged you close to her and kissed the top of your head. "Girl go."

"Mama..." You started but she shushed at you. "Girl come see mama when baby born. Mama make dolls for baby."

"Yeah. I think the baby might like them." You admitted and she absolutely beamed with joy and hugged you again. The Wraith walked up to you and pointed at himself and then you. You smiled at him. "You can come to visit too. I was thinking of making you the godfather for the baby."

Now he was the one who beamed like a proud parent. He closed in and hugged you also, so you were surrounded with love and huge killers. The moment was broken when there came knocking from the cabin's door. Huntress and Wraith moved to the side and you went to answer the door.

"Hi mommy!" Susie cheered as she greeted you from the doorway and hugged you, minding your stomach. You smiled and hugged her back and then you saw over her shoulder that she hadn't come alone. Julie and the boys stood just outside the cabin, too awkward to come inside. They all had their masks on except for Susie. When you and Susie were done with the hug she pulled away and motioned others to take her place in your arms.

Julie shrugged and hugged you briefly but the boys stayed outside. You turned towards the Huntress and Wraith for the one last hug. It was a bittersweet sensation to grow attached to Killers who were supposed to kill you and sacrifice you to this evil God or Being that tortured you all. You smiled and turned to leave, Susie and Julie walking close by as Frank and Joey lead the way.

You walked for some time and when your stomach growled and you remembered the stew you had left back at the mama's place. Joey laughed when he heard you. "Hungry?"

"Depends. "You replied, "You got what I asked?"

Frank raised a brown paper bag that you hadn't noticed he was carrying. He kept the thing tightly wrapped, but the blood had soaked through the bag's bottom and it dripped blood on the ground. It was a miracle that the bag didn't just give up.

"Is this going to be an everyday thing? Cannibalism?" He asked and you shrugged as your hands went over your stomach. "Baby wants what the baby needs."

"Definitely grossest if not sickest pregnancy craving," Julie said and Susie joined in on the conversation. "My dad used to tell me how my mom was craving chocolate dipped pickles!"

"Gross, but not the worst," Julie said and soon enough you girls were exchanging pregnancy stories your parents used to tell you. In the meanwhile, Joey walked over to Frank and tapped him on the shoulder unit he got the leader's attention to himself.

"Frank, you do know that there is a chance the kid is yours?" Joey asked, but Frank didn't answer so he kept going. "We didn't use any protection, do you think we screwed up--?" Joey was cut off as Frank grabbed his friend by the neck of his hoodie and pulled him close.

"Listen, I don't care if it's mine, it won't change shit if it was mine or not!" He growled and Joey raised his hands in surrender.

"You aren't fighting over there, are you?" Julie called from behind as you girls were too far to hear what the men were talking about. Susie joined in. "If you are, stop it now! The baby needs peace and quiet!"

"Guys, the fetus can't even hear anything yet." You called after them and Susie yelled back at you. "Still!"

Frank grumbled and let go of his best friend. "As I said, it doesn't matter if it's not mine or not..." He grunted and pulled his mask over his face, hiding his blush of embarrassment. What he was about to say was go fucking sappy.

"I would still like it even if it was Myers'. I bet I can be a better dad than that dipshit or my asshole parents."

Joey heard him and he felt like you and girls should have also heard their leader's confession of being quite excited about the baby, but he let it go. Just like you hadn't told others that it wasn't just any baby inside you.

You looked at your stomach that had a little pump on it. What would happen if you really gave birth to Entity itself? If you were sane you would put a stop to this pregnancy at once but you couldn't bring yourself to kill the life inside you. It would have been hypocritical to say that you were doing the right thing by not taking the baby's life but somehow... The knowledge of life growing in middle of all the killings and murders?

It brought you peace.

[chikkampli]

That one crappy 7 page angsty Saiouma fic NOBODY asked for (vague mentions of suic*de i guess???)

It was just another day.

  Another day in which the unstoppable Supreme Leader of Evil™ was bawling his eyes out.

  Kokichi didn't know why he was crying, he just was. Who am I kidding, of course he knew why he was crying, but this wasn't a common occurrence. The small, purple-haired male knew his mental stability was slowly deteriorating and falling away into nothing, but he still kept up his act of being the unbreakable and strong leader. Nobody understood that he just *had* to keep up this facade; it was the only thing keeping him from feeling even more emotionally vulnerable than he already felt. He hates it, he hates everything and everybody. He hates his parents, he hates his classmates, everybody.

  He hated how they let him suffer. He hated how they never asked if he was okay. He hated how nobody cared. He hated that he was treated like he didn't matter. He hated that everybody hated him, so he had to act like the actual villain. Kokichi knew nothing was his fault, he tried telling himself that every single day. His inner voice chanting things like It's not your fault. They're just messed up people. You're a good person. It's not your fault. But now...he just felt like he was lying to himself. He made them hate him. The Supreme Leader of Evil™, Kokichi Oma, made everybody hate him. Why? Because he sucked.

  He was weak and frail, too kind for his own good. He was taken advantage of. And that's why people hated him in the past. Now, he's become stronger. Stronger in a sense of hiding your true feelings behind fake confidence, malice, and lies. Now that's why people hated him now. He is no good, messed up, stupid, unworthy of forgiveness, and a liar. That was the part people hated about him so, so much.

  His lies. He lied so much that it made people assault him multiple times before, but he always got back at them with his petty nature, often succeeding. People hated how he always got his way, no matter what. And his way was what most people call "bad". That his way was the worst way humanly possible.

  Kokichi sniffled, “...This...this is what you wanted right? For people to hate you? Stop being a baby and man up. You chose to be this way, you chose to be the villain. You made this decision on your own. Don't go crying over how you're all sad and lonely and unloved. You are a nuisance,  and you will always be a nuisance. You stupid, low-life liar.”

   His tone gradually became more and more angry each letter he spit out, “You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Continue how you are! Nobody will ever love you and nobody will ever help you. You're happiest this way,” his voice was wavering, “Y-You're happiest this way. Nobody...Nobody will ever mistreat you ever again. You're so smart. The greatest!” 

   Kokichi chuckled a bit, until he started laughing as loudly as he could. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA AAAAAAA! NEE-HEEHEE...HEE...Hee...hee...heh…” The boy started breaking down into tears again, shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. Today was the worst.

  “Try to catch me if you can, Harumaki-chan!! Maki-Roll! Harukawa-san!! Maki-chan! Nee-heehee!” Kokichi ran as fast as he could around the school, hiding in every place possible. His small frame was handy after all, being 5 '1 AND 19 (almost 20) had its perks. Why was he running from the female assassin, you may ask? Well the answer was simple.

   He stole her promise ring. Only because they had a rivalry going on. Definitely not because he was jealous of Maki Harukawa finding a person she loved and not him (Spoiler alert: he was jealous because of that!). He spotted the boys’ locker room, clearly having a chance to hide and rest before moving on, he ran inside. He stopped running once he entered the boy's locker room. He tried to take in as much air as he could quietly and started to regulate his breathing. He looked around. ‘Hm...it's empty in here. That's weird.’ Kokichi held back a chuckle as he decided to hide in one of the lockers. Yes, he was that small. Once he was fully inside and in a comfortable position, he covered his mouth with his left hand, breathing quietly through his nose, and used his right hand to fish for the ring in his pocket. The moment he set his hands on it, he felt around in his other pocket for his phone. He hadn't had a good look at it since he basically stole it and got caught by the one and only Maki Harukawa. He turned on his phone and shined the brightness onto the ring, it was gorgeous in every single possible way a ring could be. It was a golden ring, with leaves and vines engraved on it, leading up to the gem. It was a crimson-colored gem, Kokichi assumed it was a ruby, he wasn't good with jewels at all. The ruby complimented the whole entire ring, making it 10000× more beautiful. On the perimeter of the ring were white, clear gems. Kokichi assumed that they were diamonds.

   On the inside was a sentence. The engraved words said, “Forever mine, Kaito Momota”. Kokichi almost felt bad. Almost. This was a very pretty ring. ‘For a very ugly girl.’ Kokichi snickered at his butthole-eyness. It was very classic, but it never gets old. He looked down at the ring and decided that he should return it to Maki as soon as possible. He always returned the things he stole from his classmates, but this one was urgent. He had return it ASAP. He didn't know why he felt like he had to, maybe it was because he felt a bit of compassion for his arch nemesis. Or maybe because he felt he was stealing a symbol of love. Kokichi didn't know. He smiled, Kaito really loved her. Even though Kaito was always at his neck for things he did, Maki and Kaito made a cute couple. Kokichi would've felt horrible if something like this happened to one of his real-life OTPs. Kokichi sighed contently and exited the locker.

   Once he got out, he stretched his petite body. He was sure he hadn't been in there for long, but his limbs were kind of stiff. But the thing is, he was there for a long time. He just lost track of time. He walked out of the locker room, only to see a raging Kaito sprinting towards him. ‘Well shit.’ Once Kaito caught up to him, he slapped the Kokichi. 

   Kokichi stumbled back a few steps and looked up at the male, hand touching where he slapped him. The smaller boy started grinning. “Well...that was different from your usual punch. What's the hold up, Momo-kun? Kaito? Hero?”

   Kaito clenched his teeth, “You know what I want. So give it to me. Now!” 

   This was unusual for Kaito. He would usually be more reckless and loud, but this time...the rage was quietly emitting off of him. The negative energy present, even in a 50-mile radius. Kokichi felt nervous, but he didn't show it. The purple-haired fetus put on a bored expression, “Geez, fine, here's the stupid ring.” He flung it at his chest, the gem reflecting the sun beautifully. Man, Kokichi was *super* jealous. “What does it matter anyway? You guys are probably gonna get divorced or whatnot, so why promise something that might not happen? Hey, where's Maki anyway? I'm surprised she isn't here,” he gasped dramatically, “Is she scared of me? O-Omigod. Score-!”

   “Shut up.” Kaito stared at Kokichi, his purple eyes glowing. Like Maki's, but Maki's is way more intense. “You have no idea what you've done, do you even know how important that ring is to the both of us? No, you don't. Why? Because you don't have anybody to love, and nobody to love you back. Isn't that right, Kokichi?”

   Kokichi's bored expression didn't falter. Moments later, it turned into a huge grin. He was so good at acting like nothing phased him at all. “Aw, Kaito! Your words are pathetic! A Supreme Leader of Evil™ doesn't need or want anybody to love them, or anybody to love! Oh my GOD, you're so dumb! Look,” he chuckled, “you already have the ring. Go back to your little Harumaki or whatever. You're wasting my precious time!” he stomped his right foot onto the ground, smirking smugly as he looked Kaito in the eyes. “Read my lips. I. Don't. Care.”

   Kaito exhaled deeply, trying to not beat the other boy until he's dead. “...I'll see you later, Kokichi.” He walked off leaving a grinning Kokichi alone.

   Once Kokichi was sure Kaito left, and more importantly, that he was alone, he sighed sadly. His grin turned into a frown, and his once confident pose turned into an insecure slouch. No, he was not going to cry right now, not today, not ever. Crying is for the weak, you can’t cry! Kokichi Oma, the Supreme Leader of Evil™, cannot cry! The people who look up to your evil cannot see this act of weakness. It’s pathetic, and a supreme leader is not pathetic! Kokichi Oma is not pathetic! Kokichi told himself this for the remainder of the day, before he came home from school. Those words that came out of Kaito’s mouth really hurt him. He had never expected someone like...like Kaito to tell him that he was basically unloveable. It only further proved to him that his entire existence was a mistake. It should be erased. Nobody needs someone like himself in this world. He only causes problems and...and he doesn’t deserve love. He doesn’t deserve life. He is just a waste of space. A waste of life. His life is meaningless. He only brings despair and all those negative feelings into the world, so why should he exist? Why should people like him exist?

   Kokichi Oma deserves to die.

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

   Kokichi took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. He didn’t need nor want to be in this emotional state so he tried breathing exercises. It didn’t work, he relapsed into, once again, ugly sobbing. 

   “Why…? Why? Why am I like this?! What did I do to deserve this? Maybe it’ll just be better if I just die.”

   Little did he know, a certain navy blue-haired male was listening on the other side of the wall, devastated at the state his neighbor was in. Their apartment walls were thin, and Shuichi Saihara was Kokichi Oma’s next-door neighbor. Shuichi was just enjoying his evening tea and reading one of his new mystery novels he picked up at the bookstore, when he heard quiet sobs from the wall. He ears were immediately fixated on the sobs, but he didn't know if he should comfort the boy next door or not, so he kept quiet and tried to focus on his novel, but he couldn’t. The sobbing had gotten louder and louder, and even sentences started coming out. Shuichi felt very uncomfortable. Then it stopped for a few moments, shaky breaths and little hiccups resounding in his bedroom. After those moments, Kokichi started to cry even louder than before. ‘I can’t just leave him alone…he’s obviously hurting! I have to help him in any way I possibly can! Maybe talking through the wall might help...since his sobs are so prominent…’

   Shuichi bookmarked the page he was on and scooted over to the wall the sobs were most prominent. He was a little reluctant to speak, he didn't know how to comfort the other person. Once he had fully prepared himself, he spoke. “Hello? Do you need somebody to talk to?”  Shuichi spoke like he was doing a school or work presentation. 

   The sobbing abruptly stopped, the person’s breathing was still uneven and little hiccups could be heard. Shuichi fidgeted. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Some people get nervous and anxious around new people. It was quiet for a moment until a weak, hoarse voice called out.

   “Am I going crazy? Oh god, no. I don’t want a voice inside my head! Not now, not ever! Go away, you stupid voice!”

   The vulnerability and harshness of the voice startled Shuichi for a second, then he spoke up. “I’m not a voice inside your head, I’m your neighbor. My name’s Shuichi Saihara. I want to help you. I heard you...crying on the other side of the wall. Today was horrible, wasn’t it?”

   Kokichi stayed quiet for a moment. He was caught! Oh, the embarrassment he has to deal with later! But for now, he didn’t care. He wanted and needed anything to make him feel better. 

“Kokichi Oma. My name is Kokichi Oma.”

   Shuichi recognized that name. It was the name of the person Maki and Kaito hated so much. They said he had no sympathy, no true emotions, and that he couldn’t genuinely cry. That Kokichi Oma was heartless. Shuichi never believed that, and he definitely doesn’t believe that now. This Kokichi Oma was crying. Sobbing. 

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kokichi. So...let’s start with the basics. What happened today that made you feel the way you feel right now?”

   Kokichi shifted into a more comfortable position, and leaned a bit closer to the wall. His bed wasn't touching the wall, so it would've been impossible to touch it without falling over. “Well, I deserve to feel this way. I took my arch nemesis’s promise ring. I know, a pretty shitty move if you ask me. Well anybody, really. I knew it was a shitty move. I have to be the villain after all. Don’t pretend you didn’t know what I said to myself before you butted in, I know you heard it. These walls are so hopelessly thin,” Kokichi frowned at the thought. Somebody just had to hear him sobbing his little heart out. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. “Anyway...I do a lot of unnecessary things. Like stealing, teasing, just to make people hate me. So I stole her promise ring. Then her boyfriend found me, I guess he already knew I took it so he got scarily mad and ordered me to give it back to him. I did, but I threw it at his chest. Classic Kokichi move. I basically told him that they were probably gonna get divorced or break up anyway so it wouldn’t matter in the long run,” Kokichi yawned, all this crying made him kind of sleepy. “He got mad and then told me that basically nobody loves me. And he couldn’t be any more right then. I, being me, told him that he was stupid for thinking that was an insult because I don’t need anybody to love or anybody to love me. But his words stuck with me. It made me think about my whole life from beginning to end. How I was abused, to the bullies at school, to my parents, even the rest of my family. Nobody has ever shown me genuine love and genuine patience. Even now they don’t. I put up this front so I couldn’t be hurt anymore...but everything hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore, Shuichi. I can’t!”

   “It's okay, Kokichi. Cry it out, I know you're holding your sobs. Everything will be fine within time, it's okay to cry. It's okay to feel vulnerable at times. It's okay. Let it all out,” Shuichi said in the most melodic and comforting tone he could muster, hoping and praying it would help the other male in the slightest.

   It was silent for a moment, before he heard soft whimpers. Soft whimpers turned into crying, crying turned into sobbing, and sobbing turned into ugly sobbing. Shuichi swore he could feel the other boy's body shaking and fidgeting. He could feel it.

   “I...I just don't know if I can k-keep on d-doing this, S-Shuichi. I've been lying a-and p-pranking and doing this and that for a-a-all these years and just look at me! I'm not e-even an o-o-ounce stronger than I was before. I'm j-just as w-weak, but now I can hide it better. Nothing changed.”

   Shuichi just listened to the other male. The broken sobs escaping Kokichi's mouth almost made him cry, but he had to stay strong. Kokichi seemed like the person who didn't want their feelings affecting themselves and others, so he'd just have to cry later.

   Kokichi continued, “I'm just the same. They were right. I have no place in this world. I'm not worthy of anything,” he got quiet, his shaky breaths the only thing Shuichi could hear.

   “No, that's wrong! I may not know you that well, but I know damn well that you do have a place in this world, and you ARE worthy of things! You are worth more than you think you do. I can't really say anything about your personality, because I don't know much,” Shuichi voice softened, “but I know you're a very good person deep down. You're just troubled, is all. All you need is a loving environment. And that environment can start with me. I, Shuichi Saihara, will become your friend.”

   The lilac-eyed male went silent. This stranger, he barely knows...wants to be his friend? Does he know what he's getting into? Being friends...with a liar like him. Can this stranger become any stupider? “...I don't think you want that…”

   “I want it, I'm sure of it.”

   “Plenty of people didn't want me in the first place. Why you?”

   “Because I know you're a good person.”

   “I'm not that great. I'm a nuisance.”

   “No you're not. You are very great.”

   “You barely even know me.”

   “So?”

   “So? You have no idea what I'm like normally.”

    “But I know who you are on the inside, and that beats everything.”

   “That's stupid.”

   “No it's not.”

   The two bickered on for a while, before Kokichi finally gave in. “Fine. Don't regret it.”

   Shuichi smiled, “I won't.”

[ebdaydreamer]

Mother of Cats

It’s Mother’s Day in the UK so I thought I’d write a little something. This is my first GoT fic and my first fic in a while so constructive criticism is more than welcome.

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Pairing: Jonerys, Past Drogo/Dany

Warnings: Mentions of violence and underage sex but hey, this is Game of Thrones

Summary: Although Jon and Dany's histories with mothers are somewhat rocky, they've made their own Mother's Day tradition. A Modern AU.

[AO3]

There was never any reason for either of them to celebrate Mother’s Day: both of their mother’s died in childbirth after all.

As per usual, Jon had been invited for dinner at his Uncle Ned’s but had made up some excuse as he had done every year since he moved out. Whilst the rest of the Stark’s had accepted him as their own, his Aunt Catelyn had always resented her husband treating Jon as an equal son. Jon never brought it up, but Dany could see how the lack of mother figure compared to his adoptive siblings had affected him.

Despite the lack of mothers in their lives, Dany had woken up to a joke card for the past six years from ‘her children’: Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion.

*

6 years ago

“Are you going to your Uncle’s this Sunday?” Dany inquired from her position on the couch, Viserion curled in her lap.

Jon returned from the kitchen with the Pringles. “No, why would I?”

“Well,” Dany began, stealing the crisps from him, “it is Mother Day.”

Jon hesitated. “I haven’t really done that since Uni.”

“Why not?” Dany asked in between munches. “I thought you guys were close?”

“We are,” Jon sighed, glancing away. His face was becoming broody. After six months of dating, Dany had learnt the signs of a brood. “I mean, I am with my uncle- most of my cousins are like siblings to me-”

“Most?” Dany handed him the Pringles.

“Aye. Sansa and I were always distant.” He took three crisps into his mouth at once, chewing as he stalled. “She idolised her mother, you see. Aunt Catelyn… well, it was clear her priorities lay with her own children above her dead sister-in-law’s orphan.”

Dany’s heart stung. How could a woman - a mother, no less - make a child feel unimportant? How could she not see a child in need of love and then deny it them?

“It’s not a big deal, but I think she would rather spend Mother Day with her own children.”

She shuffled closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. Saves me a trip to Winterfell.” He turned, a rare smile on his face. “And I can spend the weekend with you instead of those nutters.”

Dany giggled, “Smooth, but I have plans.”

Jon’s brow furrowed, “With who?”

“My children,” Dany replied, lifting Viserion out of her lap to show him.

“Of course,” Jon rolled his eyes playfully. “What is it Missandei calls you? The Mother of Cats.”

“Don’t mock,” Dany glared, pulling Viserion into her arms for a cuddle. “I found them. I raised them. They’re my children - possibly the only ones I’ll ever have.”

Jon's eyes snapped to hers, and Dany instantly realised her mistake. Shit: that morbid joke of hers was supposed to stay between herself and Missandei. She’d only had a few ‘boyfriends’ since Drogo, and they’d never gotten very serious so the issue had never come up before. She wasn’t even sure when a good time to mention something like that was. Yet, she’d never felt anyone the way she’d felt about Jon. She’d never felt this safe with someone before. She’d never felt desired for more than her pretty face. She’d never felt so open with anyone before.

“What do you mean?”

His voice forced her to focus and breathe. Tragic backstories were something she’d never really shared before Jon either - not with a romantic partner anyway. Jon wasn’t the first she’d told about her parents - with her father’s reputation before he died, she’d never really needed to - but he was the first she opened up to her life in foster care and her emotionally abusive older brother.

“Ok.” Miraculously, her voice didn't come out shaky, but it was still a whisper. She placed Viserion on the floor and stuffed a few Pringles in her mouth. “Ok.” She brushed the crumbs off her palms and turned to face him. She sighed heavily, unable to force the tale to her mouth, until she felt Jon’s hand reach for her’s.

“When I was fifteen, living in Essos, Viserys was trying to get in with this gang. Have you heard of the Dothraki?” Jon nodded, running his thumb across the back of her hand. “Well, he set me up with their leader-”

Jon’s eyes widened. “Set you up… romantically?”

Dany nodded, willing herself not to cry until the end of her story.

“Gods above, Dany. How old was he?”

“Thirty,” Dany managed to gasp. “He was thirty years old and he was my first boyfriend. Let me finish, please,” Dany begged when she saw he was about to express his outrage. “Vis was my legal guardian by then and… well… he threatened more than emotional abuse if I didn’t comply. I looked older than my age, so I flirted and batted my eyes when Vis introduced me to him and he… saw what he liked.” Dany shoved some more crisps in her mouth to give herself a break. “Surprisingly, he was actually quite kind to me - compared to Vis he was a saint. I promise, Jon, he never did anything I didn’t want to. Yes, I know I couldn’t legally give consent; yes, I now know it was statutory rape… but Jon, he was the first person to ever show me respect. He treated me like an actual human being capable of making her own decisions.” Dany inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, trying to ignore all the emotions she could see coming from Jon. “I fell in love with him, and it felt so real back then. Now I can see I did it more for survival than anything else.”

Drogon chose this moment to jump up on the couch between them, desperate for attention as always. With her free hand, she dragged him into her lap and began petting him, knowing she’d need his presence for the rest of the story.

“Then I skipped a period.”

Jon inhaled sharply. “Dany-”

“Please. Just let me…” she glanced down at Drogon, happily purring away before forcing her gaze back to Jon.

“I was fifteen, I was terrified. I barely spent any time in school because of Drogo, but I couldn’t go to the doctors without someone finding out, so I went to the school nurse.” Dany tightened her grip on Jon’s hand. “I was pregnant.”

The tears began to fall now, and Jon brought his free hand up to wipe them away with so much care Dany almost began to cry harder.

“Drogo was ecstatic and this… this was the only time I felt I didn’t have a choice with him.” Dany gave a shaky exhale. “I warmed to the idea, actually. I’d already accepted that I would have no education and my life would be with the Dothraki, so I might as well have something that was mine.” Her eyes darted to the floor where Rhaegal was now rubbing against her leg, sensing her distress. “Vis wasn’t quite as happy.”

She paused, unable to bring herself to finish. Missandei was the only person she’d had to repeat the tale to thus far, and she’d been much less sober then.

“Dany?” Jon’s voice was barely a whisper. “You can stop. You don’t have to carry on.”

“I do.” She redirected her gaze to his. “I want to.” She swallowed. “He threatened me. His standing within the Dothraki was not what he intended. He wanted to be Drogo’s right hand but felt I’d stolen his focus, especially now with the baby. He threatened to slice me open and rip the fetus out of me, so Drogo shot him dead. And I was relieved. My own brother, my only flesh and blood, had just been murdered in front of me and I felt relief.”

“Shh,” Jon soothed her as the tears came heavier and faster. “He’d just threatened your life, Dany. He made your life a living hell. You were free from your tormentor.”

“I know,” she continued, “but it appeared the Dothraki agreed with him about me. Less than a month later, a group of them attacked us with knives… they stabbed Drogo in the chest and left him to bleed out in an alleyway, they-” she choked down a sob, “they stabbed me in my stomach. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital a week later after what was apparently quite a few surgeries.” The hand stroking Drogon shifted towards her abdomen where her scars had mostly healed. When anyone asked, when Jon had asked, she said they were purely surgical scars and steeled herself to not get emotional at the sight of them. “I was told that Drogo was dead and I had lost my baby. I woke up alone.”

“Gods, Dany,” Jon muttered, his free hand now running gently up and down her arm.

“I was in the hospital for a few weeks regaining my strength before I was sent back into the foster system. I had about a month left before my sixteenth birthday and I’d be out on my own anyway.” Dany’s upper lip tugged upwards, “Lucky for me, I knew where Drogo kept his emergency stash and managed to get myself a little flat.” Her smile fell again when she remembered the point of her story. “But I had a checkup at the hospital and they said everything was fine…” Dany trailed off, her head shaking involuntarily, gaze dropping to her lap. “‘Everything is fine, Miss Targaryen, everything is fine except’... Except. Expect there was some damage - from the surgery or the stabbing they’re not sure - but there was some damage to my fallopian tubes and because of that it is likely that I may never be able to conceive a child again.”

She refused to look at him. She refused to move. She knew she’d ruined it. It was too much to admit she was this damaged after six months.

She almost jerked away when she felt his hand under her chin, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. Her blood tingled at the sight. He was staring at her with such awe and compassion and love that she wanted to cry all over again. In that moment, she knew there was no denying it: he loved her and she loved him.

She was speaking again, completely unaware of the words coming out of her mouth because they were so unbelievably honest it burned. “A lot for a sixteen-year-old, I know. It was an odd feeling, because I was unsure if I’d ever want kids after… everything. ...But I felt so alone, because I felt like I’d never have a family again. I knew I’d never have any blood relatives again. The once great Targaryen Family died in that alleyway. And I’m alone,” Dany finally sobbed.

Hastily, she was pulled onto Jon’s lap, his hands running soothingly up and down her back, as her’s found its way into his hair to steady herself, whilst another grasped his shoulder.

“You’re not alone,” he breathed into her ear. “You’ve got Missandei, you’ve got Jorah and Barristan. You’ve got hundreds that love you and care for because you set up your shelter and helped them, you showed them that they are loved, and so are you, Dany” He leant back, and she reluctantly followed, resting her forehead on his. “You are loved.” He cupped her face and wiped her tears. “I love you.”

A fresh wave of tears came crashing down at his words. She’d told him. She’d told him and he’d stayed. “I love you too.”

It wasn’t until later that night in bed that Jon asked, “So, why the Mother of Cats?”

Dany chuckled. “I actually found them when I was walking home from that checkup. Three tiny kittens in a box in an alleyway. After taking them to the vet I adopted them, and I supposed I imprinted my maternal instincts onto them.”

“Hm, so you get your nickname from the happy ending to a quite tragic story.”

“Mhmm.”

“And it has absolutely nothing to do with how you coddle them?”

“Absolutely nothing to do with it at all.”

She woke up that Sunday with a card written in his scrawling hand, signed from Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion.

The next year, after they moved in together, Ghost was added to the list.

*

“Good morning,” she greeted, lured into the kitchen by the smell of bacon.

Her husband glanced over his shoulder, mercifully shirtless as he cooked. “Morning, love.”

She pulled herself onto the stool by the island, enjoying the view of Jon in just his pyjama bottoms. Her card was sat waiting for her. “Thank you, love.”

“Don’t thank me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah, of course.” She spun in the chair to see the cats lounged on the couch. “Thank you darlings.” She then turned to Ghost laying on his bed. When he met her gaze, the wolf came bounding over, stopping calmly by her side and nuzzling her leg. She smiled, “Thank you too, Ghost.”

She turned back at the sound of a plate being placed on the island and wasted no time in chomping down on her bacon sandwich.

Jon grinned. “Who knows, if all goes well, maybe we can add another child next year.”

Dany returned his grin. They had been trying for over a year now and were due to begin IVF treatment in a few weeks.

“I cancelled the appointment.”

Jon’s face dropped. “You did what? Why? Dany, if you were having doubts you-”

“No, love, come here.” He rounded the island and stood in front of her, shooing a reluctant Ghost away. She took his hands. “I cancelled the appointment because we don’t need it anymore.”

His eyes widened. “Are you… Dany are you saying…?”

Her face split into a smile so wide it was almost painful. “I’m pregnant.”

He lifted her out of her seat and she wrapped herself around him, burrowing her face into his neck. They held each other for a few moments before Jon began to shake, overcome by tears.

She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “We’re having a baby?”

Her face-splitting grin fell to a warm smile as she cupped his face, softly wiping away his tears. “We’re having a baby.”

Jon glanced to the wolf at their feet. “Now your behaviour makes sense,” he said accusingly. “I was beginning to think he started loving you more than me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s always loved me more than you.”

Jon laughed, setting her down on the floor as he did, clasping her hands instead.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “We’re getting the family we always wanted,” she whispered.

“Aye, love. I promised you that you’d never be alone again and I am a man of my word.”

She brought their hands to her abdomen, lightly pressing against her scars.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Daenerys.”

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter six! 

It’s been a while, guys! I’m not quite done with classes for the semester, but I decided to clean up this next chapter (it was already written, it just needed some heavy work) and post it! The next chapter certainly won’t take as long to get out.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu @chromecutie  @gallifreyangrandtorino  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @akihecko @bigstarlightkingdom 

Vivian hadn’t been to Sister Margaret’s to pull her shift in three days. Her absence had all the usual miscreants worried (Weasel could stitch people up too but he was known for taking his time about it). She never missed work if she could help it. Like, she came in to pull her shift with a broken arm once.

Wade didn’t have an explanation for why Vivian was avoiding her favorite place in the world, but he had a nasty feeling that it was Cable’s fault. Weasel told him something happened, but Weasel didn’t tell him what - probably because Weasel didn’t know. And Cable wasn't talking, even though, according to Weasel, Vivian's absence was definitely his fault. Wade was gonna kill him.

“Viv! Open the door!”

Wade had been knocking on Vivian’s front door for ten minutes, but she hadn't answered the door. He was dressed in his usual drug dealer-esque get-up, making a ruckus in the hallway of her not-fancy-but-still-too-classy-for-him-to-be-dressed-like-that apartment building, pounding on Viv’s door in the hope that she’d open up. Some of the neighbors were definitely peeking out of their peepholes, but Wade wasn’t leaving until she answered the door.

He didn’t even know what he’d find when he saw her. He’d never seen Vivian legitimately upset before. Angry? Sure. Annoyed? That was an everyday thing. But upset? He was almost a little apprehensive to find out what that was like. She wasn't answering calls, answering texts, answering the door. The fragile wooden apartment door. The door that Wade was about a half-second from kicking open to make sure she was alive and functioning, if breaking down the door wasn’t such a safety hazard for her. She’d probably tell him to fuck off (communication was not her forte sometimes), but that was better than just leaving him out in the cold.

Frankly, this was getting a little embarrassing. The neighbors had probably called the cops by now.

“Vivian! I know you’re in there, Dr. House,” Wade called, knocking on the door again. “Your car is here and you don’t use Uber.”

Vivian heard Wade call out, she just didn’t want to talk. She’d worked at the clinic the past few days but hadn’t gone to Sister Margaret’s. The last thing she needed right now what the acrid stench of beer and vomit in her nostrils, a bleeding contract killer screaming in her ear, and the sight of Cable sitting at his usual barstool. She flushed just thinking about it - pained and embarrassed. A little sad.

"Stop beating down my door!"

"Then open up!"

Wade kept right on knocking. Friends showed up even when it was messy and inconvenient, so he would keep on knocking until she started talking. Even if she didn't want to talk. Even if all she did was glare at him or cry or fall asleep on the couch, he'd sit there until she got it all out.

After what seemed like ages, finally, Wade heard footsteps leading up to the door. He shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands.

Vivian cracked open the door. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

And promptly slammed the door shut again.

“Can you at least explain to me what’s going on?” Wade called, knocking on the door again.

Vivian stalked back to her front door, and this time, she threw the door wide open. She huffed, leaning against the wall in her front hallway. She knew Wade wouldn't leave until she talked. She was too fucking tired for this.

“There are about three people in this entire world that I trust and you’re one of them,” Vivian snapped. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded. “I would have expected you to tell me that the guy you’ve been encouraging me to go for, who I kind of liked, who might have actually liked me back, was married, because I have a sneaking suspicion that you knew and didn’t tell me.”

Wade's hood fell back away from his face. The pitts and divots in his skin seemed deeper in the artificial hall light, almost like bruises.

“Wait, whoa whoa,” Wade said, stepping back. “Hold it. What happened?”

“Your mercenary buddy got his arm split open again, so I stitched him up,” she started, still leaning against the door frame. She made no motion to let him in. “We were talking, and then he kissed me. And about ten seconds later, he pulls away and tells me he’s married. So I stormed out, and here we are.”

Wade's mouth gaped open. “Did he explain anything?”

“Why would anything need to be explained? Marital status is a pretty straightforward thing,” Vivian stated, cocking her head to the side. “And this isn’t about him right now. This is about why you were encouraging this without even warning me.”

Well, Wade had been hoping Cable would at least explain the inner workings of his origin before he started locking lips with anyone, but Grumpypants apparently was a little rusty on the dating front.

“Because he’s not married in this timeline, Vivian. He’s from the future and he can’t go home. He’s lonely and grumpy, just like you.”

She knew Wade was joking because that's the only way he knew how to deal with emotion, but still - ouch.

“Is now really the time to call me grumpy?” Vivian asked. And then she paused when she realized what Wade actually said. “Also - what the fuck? He’s from the future? He can’t go home? His wife is there?”

This would have been so much easier if Macho Man had the emotional range to function properly.

Wade sighed. “Can I come in?”

Vivian looked a little like she was praying for guidance from someone Wade couldn't see. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

She opened the door to let him in, padding backwards to her den. She directed him over to the couch in her living room and sat down next to him.

“So he kissed you and then told you he was married?”

“That's the gist of it.”

Wade shook his head. “I thought he’d come to terms with that.”

“Well, clearly not,” Vivian said, propping her feet up on the table. She grabbed the pillow next to her and tucked it up under her chin, squeezing it like a security blanket. “I refuse to chase after someone whose ex-wife might not even be a fetus yet.”

Wade couldn't explain why Cable would have brought that up. Cable was still something of a mystery, though Wade had known him for well over a year now.

“Listen, I was trying to do something good for the both of you,” Wade said, about as honest as he'd ever been. “You deserve someone who’s going to take care of you and treat you the way you should be treated. He’s a decent guy and he deserves someone he can relate to. He might be your regular ol’ Jean Claude Van Damme type, but I know you and if anyone could make you happy, Cable’s the guy.”

Vivian sighed. “You’re still pushing this? Do you know something that I don’t? Like, are we gonna make the superbaby that saves humanity or something? Because my baby-growing parts don’t work anymore, so that’s not a thing.”

“Look, I just know that you really liked him, and I haven’t seen you even look twice at a guy since I met you. I mean, I used to be hot and you didn’t even look at me,” Wade said, pausing. “I just want you to be happy, McSteamy. And get some good dick.”

“I’m not promising that I’ll talk to him. Not even for you.”

“That’s fair,” Wade shrugged. “I’d have started shooting by now.”

Wade leaned against her side, snuggling up to her. He had a tendency to do that anytime he got on her nerves - it was more or less his way of asking for forgiveness. She always let him, because Wade is just Wade and he usually doesn’t mean any harm.

They were silent for a while. The TV buzzed quietly in the background, though neither one of them were paying it much attention.

Vivian rested her head against his. “You were hot back then.”

He gasped. “I knew you looked!”

“Only once.”

The bright stadium lights were blinding and the crowd was deafening, but Vivian felt like she was in a bubble. She’d been trying to compartmentalize everything that had happened over the course of the week, but she couldn’t seem to get away from it completely, not even to focus on Benji and Shelly. She saw Wade behind her eyes every time she blinked, telling her to talk about her feelings (she wasn’t great at that), then Colossus, then Cable (though she’d been trying to grind that out of her mind the entire week.

“You okay, mom?”

Vivian blinked as Shelly prodded her shoulder. “What, honey?”

“You keep spacing out, ma,” Benji interjected, nudging Vivian’s other shoulder.

Jack couldn’t come to Benji’s soccer game, so Vivian was taking his spot (enthusiastically and happily). She hadn’t been to one of Benji’s soccer games since he was in early grade school, and now she was taking advantage of the climate - i.e. screaming and talking shit with the rest of the over-enthusiastic parents. Though, she’d been spacing out for the last half-hour of the game. Tired, mostly likely. Emotionally exhausted. She’d been trying to fight it off so that she could actually enjoy time spent with her kids.

Shelly had resorted to prodding her and forcing popcorn down her throat to keep her awake. Benji had even noticed from his spot on the bench and walked up the bleachers to poke her awake.

“You need to take it easy with the clinic hours, mom,” Shelly said, raking her fingers through chunks of sweaty blonde hair. It was late in the day, but it was hot and sticky in the middle of a stadium filled with screaming people. “You’re falling asleep at an event.”

“It’s not the clinic hours, babe,” Vivian replied, handing Shelly a hair tie. Shelly never remembered them, but Vivian always had a fistful of hair ties. “I’ve just had a long week.”

The longest week on record, it seemed. Wade’s unprompted visit and constant texts as well as the long clinic hours and Weasel’s pleading for her to come back to Sister Margaret’s had left Vivian so drained. She’d tried to push the mess that Cable made into the back of her mind for the sake of her own mental health. And Colossus - she had too much to think about to even go there. The soccer game had been last minute as well; about thirty seconds after Wade left, she got a call from Lucy - the secretary at Shelly and Benji’s school - letting her know that Jack wouldn’t be able to show up to Benji’s soccer game.

“Well, the other moms are taking everyone for pizza afterwards,” Benji said, standing up. The coach was calling for him to get his ass back down to the field. “So wake up, we’ve got to go have fun!”

“I’m awake!” Vivian said, waving her son off. “Don’t worry about me! Go kick some ass!”

“Language, mom!”

There it was again - Benji viciously and vividly reminding her of Colossus. Speaking of mutants - she’d been monitoring Benji all night to make sure that he wasn’t showing signs of a mutation. Between the two of her kids, he was the one who was more likely to have one. Not to say that she hadn’t been monitoring Shelly as well - she definitely had been. She hadn’t seen anything yet, but that wasn’t to say that something couldn’t crop up.

Vivian had been nervous ever since her conversation with Colossus. The idea that either of her kids could be hiding a mutation scared the shit out of her. What would Jack do if he found out before she did? She didn’t want to think about it - she’d rather take preemptive measures.

And she hadn’t thought about returning to Xavier’s Mansion since her visit earlier in the week. She needed time before she was ready to give Colossus an answer. She already knew what her answer would be, she just didn’t want to think about it yet.

Shelly poked her again. “Mom, come on. Stand up and yell again or something. You look like you’re sleeping with your eyes open.”

Vivian stood up with Shelly to watch the rest of the game. That’s when she noticed something: Benji was good. Which, Benji had always been good. But he was just a little too good for a ninth grader. And he was fast. Benji wasn’t so fast that he seemed strange necessarily, just a little out of place.

Vivian leaned down next to Shelley’s ear. “How long has your brother been that good?”

Shelly looked a little shifty. “Uh, he’s always been that good?”

“There’s good, and then there’s that good.”

“I mean, he’s just fast, mom....”

There's fast, and then there's tripping two kids and stealing the soccer ball from them before the coaches could even figure out what happened.

“Shelly, I’m going to ask you something, and you need to be honest. Does Benji have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“Does your dad know?”

Shelly shook her head. “No, he doesn’t usually watch the games. He flirts with the teachers.”

“Well, that’s a whole other problem right there. Do you have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk about this after the game, but you have got to keep it hidden from your dad until I can figure out what to do.”

“Okay.”

Wade was certain Cable was going to be tougher to deal with than Vivian. Both he and Vivian were stubborn, but Vivian would at least listen for more than thirty seconds without shooting at him or aiming a knife between his eyes. This time, Wade had to be prepared for a confrontation.

When Wade finally found his way back to the X-Mansion after spending most of the day lounging on Vivian’s couch, he was ready to knock some sense into Cable - in his own way, of course. Which basically included a small pep talk and making Cable feel like an idiot. Wade felt like this would accomplish his goals with more efficiency than an older-brother type, I’m gonna fuck you up threat. Plus, shaming Cable and making him feel guilty for fucking up would be infinitely more satisfying.

Wade's method was simple: full-on call-out post. Facebook Mom style.

Wade burst into Cable’s room, ignoring the fact that Cable was dressed only in a towel, and glared at him like he was ready to kill him. “What did you do?”

This wasn’t phrased as a question so much as an accusatory finger-poke.

Cable gaped at him for a half-second before yelling at Wade to close the damn door. Wade obliged, albeit more slowly than he would have if the hall had been empty (people were peeking in to watch the anticipated fight).

Once the door was closed, Cable sat down on the edge of his bed, making sure that all his bits and pieces were covered up by the towel. “Something stupid.”

Wade pulled out the chair at Cable’s workbench. Several intimidating-looking guns were positioned barrel-first in his direction, and he was immediately thankful that he could regenerate. “Uh, yeah? You told her you were married? After you kissed her?”

“Is this any of your business?”

“I’m the one who introduced you to her! Sort of! In a very business-like fashion after you’d been stabbed,” Wade said, picking up one of the guns. Cable eyed him warily, muscles tense. “So, yeah, it’s definitely my business! You’re not married in this timeline. You’re not going back to the future, Marty McFly.”

Cable glanced over at the teddy bear sitting on the top shelf of his workbench. “Don’t you think I’m reminded of that every single day?”

“It’s been well over a year already,” Wade reminded him, almost gently. “I know losing your family isn’t something you just get over. Hell, I took a cat-nap on twelve barrels of gasoline. More than once. But you’ve made a lot of headway.”

Cable shook his head. “Talking to you is fucking impossible.”

Wade figured that he needed to try a different approach. He switched from Facebook mom to father of three teenage boys approach. “Look, do ya like her?”

“No fucking shit,” Cable replied. His face grew soft, and he suddenly seemed to Wade every bit of his age. “Of course I do.”

“Then get off your ass and go fix it! Explain to her what’s going on.”

“I doubt she’ll listen,” Cable replied, reaching out to pick up the teddy bear. He held it in his hands, turning it over. The bear’s golden eye flashed in the light from the room’s only lamp, not unlike the eye of the man holding it. “She doesn’t exactly seem like the type to give second chances.”

“You’d be surprised what she’ll do for people she cares about,” Wade said, pointing. “Like you, asshat.”

“Did she say that?”

Yeah, Cable definitely seemed older now. Tired. Maybe even a little melancholy.

“She didn’t have to.”

Cable set the bear back down on his workbench and tugged the slipping edge of his towel back into place. Wade couldn’t imagine a more awkward moment than being berated in a towel, but he supposed it added to the air of shame on you that he was trying to achieve.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Well, neither do I! Go talk to her and figure it out!”

[hiyo-silver]

Behind Blindfolds

summary: Nobody expected the world to end the way it does until it starts. It was always thought to happen all in one go but instead it drags on for years of feigning really living when all they're doing is surviving. In this situation maybe, surviving is really losing.

taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @rachi0964 @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose11 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt @aizeninlefox @sockwantstodie @ahoybyeler @yooonbum @coffeekaspbrak @sedanleystanley

read it on ao3!

The end of the world is always expected to come sudden, unexpected, and uncontrollable. That much is true, but it doesn’t come with a bang, really just screams turning into strangled cries and the sounds of people dropping one after another. It came without warning at possibly the worst time. But isn’t any time a bad time for humanity to end?

Beverly had been in the car, another driver swerved at her, sending the car flying off to the side like it was weightless. Surreal. She has to climb out of the car when it’s turned upside down, gripping her pregnant stomach. She never felt much attachment to the fetus inside, now isn’t any different. It just makes it worse that she’s doing this on her own.

The baby has a father somewhere technically. Tom Rogan, the idea of him makes her goddamn blood boil. She could sometimes handle him when it was just the two of them, but she made the choice to up and leave the moment the pregnancy test revealed a cross to her on that dim night. He just can’t raise a child, he really thinks he could, but with how he treats her, like her own father, makes his lack of paternal instinct clear.

She reflects on all of this now, sitting on the wood floors of this unfamiliar home as she tries to catch her breath, tries to wrap her head around what she’d seen out there, some of the most unseeable things anyone could see. But it’s not over yet. She brushes a reddish strand of hair behind her ear with a scratched up hand, finally studying the faces of the people around her.

The one standing over her looks angry with her, showing his dominance, filling her with a hope that she’s not already on his bad side just being here. The next one is in the red vest she can only attribute to the local supermarket, she doesn’t recognize the man though. The next one she tries to read is standing near the stern looking dark-haired man, he has skin of a deep brown, his face set similarly, though more determined than angry, an undertone of warmth coming through. It’s hard for her gaze not to snap to the next one, an ashy blond man, gripping an inhaler and taking a puff from it, he’s thin and nervous, though he holds a similar determined energy.

What makes her most curious is a man in a bright pink button up, tossing a ball at the wall to catch it, over and over, like he’s just trying to keep his sanity. Suddenly one who wasn’t there before appears in the archway, crossing his arms over his chest, his hair having almost the same copper tones as Beverly’s own. “Another one? G-good, this thing doesn’t work as fast as we thought it did.”

Bev just nods to the group, “Who are you all? And who- who was that woman who tried to get me here?” she asks, having a habit to be automatically suspicious of people after all she’s been through, especially strange groups of men she’s never met before. She pulls herself to her feet, a bit difficult with her center of gravity so drastically changed by the child growing within her.

The intimidating man of the dark hair and olive-y toned skin looks her up and down before speaking. “I think considering this is my home I hold the right to ask that question first, who are you?” he asks, wrapping his arms across his chest. It’s obvious he’s trying to be an authoritative presence, but really he just seems bossy and largely insecure.

She nods and sighs out, she should have known she would be asked that. “I’m Beverly Marsh, I live a couple blocks down, now can I know who you and that woman are?” she asks, feeling unsafe and impatient, who could blame her?

“Call ourselves the survivors for now. I’m Stanley, the one in the red is Ben, not to be confused with Richie, the one in the eye bleeding bright pink. Eddie’s the one that looks like a shaking chihuahua. Bill is the blunt asshole in the archway there. The one next to me is Mike, he’s about the only other sane one here. And that woman who saved you? That was my wife. Patricia. Much rather her over you,” the last sentence is spit out bitterly like a stab to the chest. The man keeps his arms crossed across his chest, swiftly turning around to leave the foyer, it’s as if he can’t even look at her without thinking of Patty and making his green eyes swim with tears. Too fresh.

She looks at the others, her own green eyes pulling in everything around her, the room is dimly lit so it’s hard to catch all their features, but besides Stan they don’t seem too upset to have her around. The next one to talk is the one he’d gestured to calling him Richie. The man doesn’t look away from his game of ball, his eyes trained on the bouncing and the wall. “Don’t worry about the bitch boy, he’s just an elderly man in a young adult man’s body, but he couldn’t hurt a fly, bet he’s got the joints of one too,” the man runs a big hand through his brown hair, snorting at his own playful insult. Whatever keeps them sane, for Richie it’s quite obvious that it’s his humor.

Eddie isn’t so much entertained by Richie’s rudeness and vulgarity, he’s been dealing with it for more consecutive hours than the others, they’re sure to get fed up too. The two of them are in police training, they were in the same carpool at the time everything outside started to go awry. Richie would call them buddies, Eddie, not so much. He takes his inhaler and slips his backpack off his shoulders, hastily unzipping it and putting the asthma medicine away, not wanting to seem even weaker than their pregnant newbie. He’ll have to pretend he’s not wheezing every breath he takes out of sheer anxiety.

Bill seems the most stable of them all, standing taller than everyone except for Mike, he seems to be constantly scanning every bit of everything happening as it does. The observer, quite useful to have around, but maybe not in a situation plagued by a monster who can only hurt you once you’ve seen It. they haven’t come up with a name for it yet, so it’s simply It. Or the shadow, but once you’ve seen it you don’t call it anything, all you can do is cry for mercy.

“You w-want a glass of water?” he asks, also seemingly the warmest to the newbies. He’s cautious yes, but he’s not cold and uncaring by any means. She nods at his offer, trying not to be so timid. Be a big girl, Beverly, be strong, she tells herself, she’s been telling herself that since her childhood years. It’s sung by a harsher voice in her head now that she’s going to be a mother, she hopes that voice stays in there and never has the need to spring from her own mouth.

She follows him to the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the island in the center, looking around, it really is a nice home. The counters are marble, the chandelier is modern, the appliances all stainless steel. Stan maybe be an asshole, but either he or his wife are excellent interior decorators, or at least know how to hire one. “How long do you think this will last? Like how long do you think we’ll be stuck staying here?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the cold counter, she’s not sure if the shiver that goes down her spine is because the temperature or the grave look that Bill returns her with.

She’ll never forget the way he says it. “I’m n-not so sure, we don’t know exactly when it b-began. The news can’t p-pinpoint it. We aren’t s-sure what causes it either. It’s i-indefinite. Hopefully you can go home soon, though,” he talks with words on unconfidence but his tone is unwavering. “It always could be worse though, a-at least it hasn’t gotten you,” he says as he stops the tap and passes her the glass. A nice cool glass of water is about the only method he knows to calm people down, his own methods of self soothing are to ignore the problem, and he can’t exactly ignore people’s problems for them without being some level of rude.

She nods slowly. She doesn’t know how to respond, of course the idea of it terrifies her. She watched person after person on the street just fall dead. A glassy look grows in their eyes, they go bloodshot for a moment before anything else happens, a sign It’s hit. She’ll never forget the look. That woman, Patty, she had these beautiful golden brown eyes before they shifted. She had kind eyes, she can understand why Stan cared about her so deeply. She gave her life to help a stranger, there’s about no greater sacrifice than that.

“How’d you end up here?” she asks, her voice soft, he seems to be able to hold his own, she wonders why he hadn’t been hiding out at his own residence, he seems fully capable of it. His expression changes, a little less so sure, less full of determination and hope. One more of… grief.

“Was at the h-high school tennis team’s m-match at the park. S-supporting my brother, George. We were f-far from home, he got injured d-during the match, can’t run a-as fast as I can,” Bill says, chewing the inside of his cheek and letting his eyes trace discernable patterns in the swirls of the black and white marble. There it his, his reason to bottle this all up. He looks early ready to cry but instead looks up. “But it’s l-like all you are m-my siblings now. G-gonna protect you guys, if you’re o-okay with that,” he says, it’s like he can snap back into his role any time, like he’s had practice.

“Bill? You know it’s not your fault, right?” she asks, she doesn’t know him but she feels her heart pound with pain for him. She watched people die, but nobody she cares about. As morbid and evil as that may sound, she lives alone and she’s never cared much for anyone in this goddamn town. Derry is supposed to be a pit stop between her shitty life before and the greatness she knows she’s destined to become.

“Moving on,” he says, walking around the counter, “You’re gonna have a baby? Do y-you know where the dad is? M-maybe we can help find him for you i-if he’s still alive?” he asks, his God complex and need to save everyone around him becoming increasingly evident. It’s endearing.

“Oh God no I hope he’s dead, if he’s not could you do me a favor and make him look into the light? He could use a fucking lesson,” she grumbles, smacking her hand on the counter in front of her in emphasis. She may have loved him sometime, at some point, when he was someone else. But the man she left wasn’t the man she loved, she wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

“Understood,” he says, the conversation getting cut short with Ben coming in and settling himself on the couch with a beat up notebook, dozens of post-its sticking out, the frilly edges of paper sticking out at several angles from the spiral spine of it. Obviously well loved and constantly used, Bill knows what it is already, but Bev is curious.

“Whatcha got there, supermarket guy?” she asks, not even minding to check his nametag, still in his work clothes. She gets up and squats herself on the couch next to him, even eyeing coffee stains and ribs on the pages, it’s almost like he takes that ratty old thing everywhere with him.

“First draft of my novel” the man says distractedly, running his hand over the scruffy beard starting on his chin and jawline. If he were to even look over he knows he’d be intimidated by her beauty like he had been in the hall, so now he simply refuses. “It’s about the end of the world. Won’t market well now,” he jokes with bitterness in every undertone of his words.

She smiles just as dryly as his words had come out, “Good talk,” she says, patting him on the shoulder and standing up. She feels like a character in a video game, walking around the room and speaking to all the different people she’ll be stuck with. It’s for the best after all, probably. She sees Mike, she knows she hasn’t spoken to him yet, he seems to be another one of the quiet ones.

“Mike, that’s your name, right?” she asks as she taps him on the shoulder carefully. Not a good time and environment to sneak up on someone, but she doesn’t know how else to get his attention. Like Stan and Bill, he seems to be a leader, she likes that about him. He’s the quiet leader, not too stern and not too soft.

“Yeah, Beverly you said?” he says after his shoulder twitches and he whips around, sighing in relief at the sight of something actually human. “You know, I’m glad we saved you, the idea of a dead pregnant woman would haunt me forever if we hadn’t. My sister is pregnant, she’s up in Canada though, moved for college,” he says, revealing his own flaw, he rambles when he’s nervous.

Stan is the quick wit. Richie is the jokester. Eddie is the anxious one. Ben keeps to himself. Bill feigns a bravery he doesn’t truly have to make the others feel safer. Mike is the rambly handsome one who seems to know the place as well as Stan does. And Bev? Beverly is so far just here for the ride, but she’ll find her place.

[yellowsounds124-blog]

----

I have something I need to share. Not with you, with someone else but that'll never happen, its simply not possible, but I need this off my chest and dont have a safe place for it. With your stance on abortion, I figured you would be a good place, sense you wont see the fetus in this story as a "clump of cells" Growing up, my dad was not okay. He was abusive. It took me years and years to say this because through all the running away and calling the police, not going home- I was told over and over that it was fine because he wasnt raping me or punching me in the face. The pushing, screaming inches from my face, tearing apart my stuff, throwing things at me, making me change in front of him, refusing to be by me in public if I didnt look good enough...didnt matter. I was told I was being ridiculous and should be greatful. My friends.. I would beg them please dont leave me alone with him if he ask you to leave the room. But they always would what were they suppose to do? I wouldnt be allowed to talk to anyone to go out for months at a time. So there was a huge foundation of fear, and protecting myself. At some point, i met this guy (brother of my friend), and I just loved him, and he loved me to. He was a POC, once we started with each other his sister hated me for some reason, which made his mom hate me. And my parents hated him (I later figured this was a race and class thing for my father) so being together involved a lot of sneaking around, a lot of giving up, a lot of trying again, the sneaking around would get me in more trouble, especially if it was known it was with him. At this point, I didnt tell anyone how bad it was, I started self mutation. If I wasnt with him (we will call him Kay for the sake of thevstory) I would do any drug I could get and have sex or mess with whoever showed interest (well almost). It was how I would cope as I didnt think I could tell anyone. How could I say anything about what I was going through when I had a friend being raped by her brother, a friend who's dad just up and left, a friend whos mom called her fat and made her diet? I was literally a wreck and the worst part of the cycle was being this wreck made him more angry, he'd treat me worse, and I'd further wreck myself. So about Kay, we went on and off for years, then he moved in with a friend who was only a street away, I wasnt at a 8-3 school anymore and he graduated do it was really easy to be together. I immediately broke up with this other guy I was seeing (we will call him Colin) that my dad liked so I would use him to be able to leave the house ect so I could be with Kay. It was only a month and a half of perfection before it started falling apart. Kay wanted to talk to my father, he didnt know what things were like except that he didnt like him. He thought he could talk to him about how much he loved me and make things better, and I freaked out. He knew I was hurting myself, a few months before my father** had saw the marks and yelled at me asking if I was crazy, asking what the hell was wrong with me, telling me it was disgusting and I stayed in a padded room for a night before being released sense I wasnt suicidal, and Kay saw on my body that I had found a new more hidden place after that incident. He thought he could save me, and we would get married and be happy, but I knew if he went to talk to my father that my father would send him off and I would pay for trying such a thing. * That's when I made multiple huge mistakes that I havent shared with people, 9 years later. First, i broke up with him and told him i didnt even like him and needed time to discover myself,stuff like that. I never stopped loving him. To this day, I'm sure I'd still fall apart at his touch. *Within that same week, I missed my period, I again wasnt able to leave the house, I bought a tested while at the store with my mom, was caught and ordered to take it as soon as we were back. This was bad because if it was negative, I was going to be in trouble for basically no reason. And again this "trouble" wasnt normal. It meant my things wouldbe torn apart. I would be held down and screamed at, spit on not allowed to talk. But it wasnt negative, it was positive. And my mom was waiting downstairs, and I knew this only had a small handful of outcomes. Either they would send me off and have me give the baby up for adoption while being under close watch the whole time, or they would make me get rid of the baby. Abortion. So I did the first thing that came to mind, I called Colin. I told him I was pregnant and it was his. And that I couldnt talk right now. Then I told my mom, and immediately told her that Colin knew. To me, this was security. If he knew, someone would be checking in on me, he would tell his parents, another adult would he involved, if I disappeared there would be questions. And I knew I was right because I told my mom he knew and immediately she was upset I did that. I went in for an ultrasound, found out how far I was, quickly gave Colin a photo and shut the door on him. And the problems started. The dates dont match up, Colin said. I told him hes wrong. His parents wanted a paternity test, I said that's not possible itll hurt the baby. They claimed it wouldnt. I convinced Colin it was his and I just knew. He knew i had been seeing Kay but took my word.Then i heard from Kay, he heard I was pregnant. If he even thought it was his he would be at my door, trying to figure things out, trying to talk to my parents. But my father would not respect him the way he would Colin, so if anyone knew it was Kay's, I would be hurt, punished, sent away. I was terrified, I cant even explain the level of panic I had for my safety. I told Kay it wasnt his, there was no single way, and to leave me alone forever. It hurt so much to tell him that, it felt so wrong and I hated it and I knew it hurt him and I was so broken over it. After that, i was still stuck. The dates didnt match, Colin's parents wanted a paternity test, *the baby was partly a POC and might not come out white, so I wouldnt be able to pass them off as Colin's. I couldnt sleep. My father wasmt speaking to me and wasnt even around, really. I stayed in my room. My parents were pushing for me to get an abortion. "Were just going to the clinic so you can see what its like" my mom said when she took me to the abortion clinic. It was down a stair case, there were no protesters. They took my blood, they walked me through everything and asked when they could set up an appointment. They asked me one time if I wanted to do this, in front of my mom who stared me down. When she brought me back, she paid extra for them to put me to sleep. While I waited with the IV and the last ultra sound pictures I'd have done, I started crying. My mom wasnt there for this part, a nurse asked me why I was crying, she was so angry about it. I said sorry and tried to stop. She didnt ask if i wanted to do this, no one told me that i was at the point where the baby was like a small miniature looking baby, only slightly misshapen. No one told me it had tiny hands and feet, or what they would do with it afterward. And no one made sure i wanted this. When I went in the room I was alone with a Male doctor, and I remember how unusual that was as I had always been asked if I wanted someone else in the room if left with a Male doctor. And I laid on the doctor bed, and I remember think I should say something, this is my last chance, and then I was asleep. When I woke up I was given pads, they told my mom, not me, even though I was 17, that I would bleed for a few days. I never went to the check up appointment. I stayed in my room, I scanned every blood clot for a piece of the baby. I slept and cried, when I heard from Colin I told him that I lost the baby. That's all. I lost the baby. People spread rumors it wasnt ever real. I didn't care. I didnt leave my room. I didnt shower, I barely ate. I gave up Kay, and all my friends connected to him, Colin started dating my bestfriend and they talked shit about me, I lost everyone connected to them. I was just alone. My father came back and was around more. They never talked to me about it, never asked if I was okay. I was like that for months, before finding friends online, forcing myself to listen to happy music, go out, pretending. Fake it till you make it. I met two people, we will call Slw and Ice- who helped me in that time more than they will ever know because they didnt know about it. Slw once asked why we didnt hang out with my friends and I got really upset with him but they both helped me so much. Ice reminded me it was okay to hurt and not be okay, he just didnt know what about. I made more friends, I am so greatful for every single one because they are the only reason I dudnt take my own life in those following years. Things got bad again. I got bad. I am better now, I have kids. People say I am a good mom. But ever sense "getting better" I think about that baby everyday. I worry life will take one of my babies that are here because I let that one die. How can I be a good mom when I let that happen? And I dont deserve them. And I am so sorry to that child. I could have found another way. I could have spoke more. That childs dad would have loved them and had no choice. I hate myself for this, every day. And again, have no where to go to talk about it. Like I said I just needed to get it off my chest because it eats me alive, everyday. Regardless of if people think abortion is right or wrong. To me, I know I got rid of a baby with a future, and its minimalized.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Garth Ennis Is A Hack

by Rude Cyrus

Friday, 10 April 2009

Rude Cyrus is deservedly rude about The Boys.~

Once upon a time, superheroes were seen as protectors of the innocent, bringers of justice, and saviors of mankind. When I was a kid, there was no greater thrill than watching Superman pummel giant robots or stop a plane from crashing into a city. As time went on, the public began to tire of flawless beings that could do no wrong, so creators began to make the heroes more “realistic”, at least in terms of character. Antiheroes like Wolverine and The Punisher became popular while concepts like vigilantism would be explored in comics like Watchmen.

Unfortunately, the pendulum swung a little too far during the ‘90s, a decade where you couldn’t swing a dead badger without hitting some DARK and GRITTY antihero. This is the same decade that gave birth to Image Comics, a publisher that needs to make an acquaintance with an H-Bomb. All you need to know about Image Comics is that it took over the canceled Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlesfranchise and turned Donatello into a cyborg. That says it all.

This brings me to the present and The Boys, a comic series written by Garth Ennis and illustrated by Darick Robertson (which I keep pronouncing as “da’ Rick”).

Let me just say that I hate this series. I don’t hate it because it’s ultra-violent and ultra-sexualized. I don’t hate it because it makes superheroes (or “supes” as they’re called here) turn out to be a bunch of amoral douchebags. I don’t hate it because I think Garth Ennis is an overrated hack who’s convinced everyone he’s a genius. No, I hate it because I can’t stand the characters.

Everybody, with few exceptions, is thoroughly repugnant. Just look at the main characters:

Billy Butcher is a sociopath with a neck the size of a ham and a perpetual smirk plastered on his face. He owns a bulldog named Terror that can fuck things on command; seemingly hates supes because one raped his wife, who ended up dying because the fetus ripped through her stomach. Butcher ended up beating said fetus to death with a lamp.

Wee Hughie joined The Boys after his girlfriend was accidentally killed by a supe named A-Train. Much of the series is focused on following Hughie’s thoughts and actions, which is unfortunate because he’s a wet blanket with exactly three facial expressions: anger, incredulity, and shit-eating grin. He’s also a dead ringer for Simon Pegg – I suspect Ennis was sitting around, smoking pot, and said to himself, “Dude, wouldn’t it be cool if Simon Pegg had superpowers?”

Mother’s Milk is a somewhat decent guy, which means he gets shoved into the background more often than not. He seems to derive his powers from an entity he calls “Momma” in a process that makes him vomit. Why does he have to do this? Who cares, let’s watch a midget use a massive vibrator!

The Frenchman and The Female are psychotic killers with the ability to rip people apart with their bare hands. Defining characteristics: one is French, the other lacks a penis. Garth Ennis doesn’t give a shit about them, so why should I?

And what would a team of morally dubious antiheroes be without a team of superheroes to oppose them? Enter the Seven, an analogue of the Justice League, filled with characters that make The Boys look like The Boy Scouts. The only good member of the group is Starlight, and she’s constantly degraded by the other members, whether it’s forced into wearing a more revealing outfit, giving fellatio to the male members of the group as a “test”, or nearly being raped by the aforementioned A-Train. It’s also strongly hinted that Homelander (leader of the Seven and Superman analogue) was the one who raped Butcher’s wife.

What a charming bunch. Thankfully, it’s not all bad, as Starlight later becomes Hughie’s girlfriend. It’s a match made in heaven, as they’re both outstandingly bland.

Other notable characters include a CIA analyst with a fetish for female paraplegic athletes, a CIA director that frequently has humiliating sex with Butcher, and recurring cameos by Stan Lee – okay, he’s called the Legend, but it’s supposed to be Stan Lee. Perhaps “Exposition Man” would be a better name, because all he does is talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…

Speaking of stereotypes, there are quite a few on display here. For example, there’s the two fat, hairy, greasy, comic book store-owning Italian brothers who are constantly using variations of “fuck” and threatening their customers with graphic violence; the enormous bearded Russian who talks about communism and the Motherland all the time; the “East Coast vs. West Coast” superhero teams that are always fighting each other, throwing up gang signs and using the n-word. I kept wondering why Garth Ennis was doing this, and I settled on “because he thinks it’s funny.” See, Ennis is pointing out how absurd these stereotypes are, so it’s not really racist, right? Right?

Despite all of this, I forced myself to read all 29 issues, which, at times, felt like I was cutting off my legs with a rusty hacksaw – oh, look, the Russian guy is called “Love Sausage” because he has a fifteen-inch cock! Oh look, Hughie has menstrual blood on his face from oral sex because Starlight was on her period! Oh look, one of the superheroes can vomit acid! Isn’t that a knee-slapper? Worse still was the heavy-handed social and political commentary that Ennis shoehorned in, ranging from how St. Patrick’s Day sucks, to how the military-industrial complex has the United States in a chokehold, to American politics (the President and Vice President being analogues for Dick Cheney and George W. Bush, respectively), to how superheroes are evil. He even uses 9/11 to make his point, for fuck’s sake. Basically, one of the hijacked planes crashed into the Brooklyn Bridge (the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were spared) because the Seven tried to save the day but bungled it due to incompetence and selfishness. Do you see? SUPERHEROES ARE EVIL!

No, that wasn’t what made me stop reading this comic. What made me stop was the latest story arc, called “We Gotta Go Now”. The Boys have to investigate the public suicide of Silver Kincaid, a member of the G-Men (no prizes for guessing who they’re supposed to be an analogue of), for reasons I can’t be bothered to look up. Hughie has to go undercover and infiltrate one of the younger G-teams (as “Bagpipe”, because he’s Scottish, get it?) called G-Wiz. See the subtle pun there?

It’s immediately apparent that something is off with G-Wiz – sure, they might seem to be your average fraternity (i.e. boorish drunks obsessed with bodily functions), but they’re a little too comfortable with each other, if you catch my drift. Couple this with the revelation that G-Men’s leader, John Godolkin (analogue of Charles Xavier – apologies for all the analogues) actually abducted almost all of the G-Men when they were kids and turned them into superheroes, the fact that he refers to the G-Men as his “children”, and all of the dark mutterings of “what we had to deal with” and things start becoming clear.

At this point I thought, “No way. There’s no way Ennis would be so cheap and unoriginal. There has to be more to this.” I read issue 29, and, lo and behold, one of the characters confirmed my worst fears:

John Godolkin is a child molester.

That was the last straw. It wasn’t because one of the villains was a pedophile; rather, it was because Garth Ennis had resorted to such tacky exploitation in order to wring an emotion from his audience. Instead of taking the time to craft something novel, Ennis, out of sheer laziness, decided to go for the biggest heartstring and yank. Why have a complex villain when you can just say, “He’s an evil kid-toucher! BOOGA BOOGA!”

I’m sure Ennis pats himself on the back every day for what he thinks is scathing criticism on the superhero genre and insightful commentary on numerous aspects of life. He isn’t clever, creative, or even likable. He’s just a lazy hack. My smoldering ire also extends to the fans that keep buying this dreck and give it good reviews. What the hell is wrong with these people? My guess is that, in their minds, they equate DARK, GRITTY, and SERIOUS with being good. In my mind, it’s just BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, and more BULLSHIT.

Themes:

Damage Report

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Comics

~

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Wardog

at 17:17 on 2009-04-10I don't know what to say ... I am completely flabbergasted by the awfulness of this. Why on earth is it garnering praise?

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Arthur B

at 17:26 on 2009-04-10Once upon a time the publishers of

2000 AD

thought it would be great to hand over all the writing duties for the comic for a few months to Garth Ennis, Grant Morrison, and various hangers-on. Why they thought this was a good idea was a mystery because Garth had already proven he shouldn't be trusted with other people's properties when in

Strontium Dogs

(the sequel series to

Strontium Dog

) he pulled a blatant retcon out of his capacious arse to turn the sweet, gentle comic relief character The Gronk into a psychotic gun-toting protagonist. Nonetheless, the magazine went ahead with the Summer Offensive, as it called the promotion (because, you see, it's Garth Ennis and he likes being offensive, and it happened in the summer), and the general tone of the comic went from "12A bordering on 15" (in movie age rating terms) to "18 certificate and a big argument about violence in the media on the side", which prompted the parents of certain younger subscribers, such as myself, to cancel the magazine.

And that's how Garth Ennis ruined

2000 AD

for an 11 year old Arthur.

Seriously, the man is awful. I think the only thing he's done that I've actually liked was

Hellblazer: Dangerous Habits

. Frustratingly, that was brilliant. He's capable of not being an idiot if he tries, he just

doesn't try

.

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Rude Cyrus

at 19:49 on 2009-04-10This was actually nominated for an Eisner Award for "Best Continuing Series" in 2008. And comic bok fans wonder why so many people don't take comics seriously.

Thanks for the image, by the way.

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Wardog

at 20:35 on 2009-04-10For a moment there I was wondering if you meant the image of an 11 year old Arthur but then I realised you meant the literal image that illustrates this article. I hope it's okay - I chose the cover that most annoyed me :)

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Sonia Mitchell

at 23:23 on 2009-04-10This series sounds horrific. Thank you for the warning.

(I badly want to google cyborg Donatello. I'd like to think it can't be as disastrous as I'm imaginging, but that would probably be naive. I'm therefore restraining myself...)

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Arthur B

at 00:46 on 2009-04-11

Oh hey look what else Image have published.

On the other hand, they also put out

The Walking Dead

, which

I really like

.

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Guy

at 03:59 on 2009-04-11Speaking of Image, this is one of the most funny/disturbing things I've ever read: Rob Liefeld's 40 worst drawings: http://progressiveboink.com/archive/robliefeld.html

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Arthur B

at 15:04 on 2009-04-11I'm amazed they were able to find 40 drawings worse than

the infamous Captain America one

.

Actually, I'm not amazed, Liefeld is terrible. Oh God, the feet...

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http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:31 on 2010-07-11Thread necromancy: After reading this article from the random button, I'm reading

The Boys

out of morbid curiosity. I've gotten through the first couple of storylines, issues one through ten. It's about as disgusting as Rude Cyrus has said, with everything as juvenile and pointlessly violent and so forth.

One of the annoying things is that there are occasionally glimmers of interest that make me think "You know, if Garth Ennis actually gave a shit, and stopped dropping tons of stupid violence and stupid sex and stupid ham-fisted 'haha the gay activist is violently afraid of actual homosexuals' shit, he might actually be able to make some points about 'how do we make superheroes accountable?'" One advantage of

The Boys

is that, unlike

Civil War

, it's just one author, so there aren't a bazillion different axes being ground. And it doesn't seem like it's constrained by being a DC Comics Continuity Event, the way

Civil War

was a Marvel Comics Continuity Event. And every once in a while, it seems like Ennis might have something to say on the matter.

But it inevitably degenerates into "hurr hurr supes are pervs, butcher punches them." Fuck you, Ennis, for being wasted potential.

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http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:32 on 2010-07-11Aack, unclosed HTML tags. Sorry! (I'm used to a forum that won't let me post if I have unmatched tags, and didn't check.)

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Rami

at 05:43 on 2010-07-12@webcomcon: Fixed it for you. I'm afraid FerretBrain doesn't really do warnings -- but we do suggest using the Preview button!

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http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 18:20 on 2010-07-13Continuing thread necromancy!

I am a comic book artist. I detest

The Boys

with a deep, abiding disgust. My employer thinks it's brilliant. He is also a big fan of Liefeld (needs more pouches!), so go figure. While

The Boys

is bad, try having your only income being working on the dream project of someone who likes

The Boys

, and feel your artistic integrity shrivel.

I actually considered sending in issue one of

Polis

(what I'm paid to draw) to Ferretbrain for a review; I may yet do that alongside

Polis

issue two and my own side project for what the great minds here could find a fun comparison. "The world is corrupt and drug-addled, corporations are evil, and our main hero is an amoral Cape [superhero] with few redeeming qualities." versus "A space princess and space pirates act terribly toward one another, but all in good fun." I asked my employer, and he thinks any publicity is good.

Speaking of "Cape" and "Supe", what is this allergic reaction to the word superhero? Yes, superhero is a long word, but so is computer. From my perspective, it would seem more likely that superhero would get shortened to just hero. Then advert campaigns about "The

real

heroes of X city: our policemen and firefighters" would take on a whole new weight. Plus, I haven't met many people who say 'puter, and compy only caught on after Strongbad popularised it.

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Dan H

at 19:11 on 2010-07-13I think the thing about abbreviating "superhero" to something like "cape" or "supe" (did Watchmen use "mask" or am I making that up) is that it highlights the fact that this is an EDGY SERIOUS WORK OF FICTION about EDGY DARK CHARACTERS not some KIDDY THING about SUPERHEROES.

Because as we all know, nothing screams "maturity" like going to great lengths to appear mature.

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http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 21:32 on 2010-07-13The thing which screams maturity the best is to have everyone swear all the time, and put blood and torture on every page. The ability to engage in traditionally adult themes while employing transgressive story elements such as bodily fluids, misogyny, and rape is the hallmark of an individual whose mind has progressed past puerile adolescent fascination. As you said, superheroes are so childish. We aren't writing stories about superheroes under a different name. These are adult stories about well rounded characters employing serious themes. Just like Terry Goodkind is definitely not a *pfft*

fantasy author.

Sarcasm over, I honestly don't remember if

Watchmen

used "mask." I guess I've just lost some comix-cred.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:13 on 2011-10-28Hey guys. I'm aware this is a few years old but just discovered the site and enjoying it, even when I disagree.

But this is the only one I think I needed to comment on.

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

Secondly, this review seems to have totally failed to come to terms with the text.

OK. I'm not going to argue against certain points here. There's gross out humor, there's swearing, there's a hamster well-up in a zombie's bum. There's puke and disgusting, disgusting periods that no man should ever have to read about (cos girls, right! ew. The writer of this article agrees!) and there's even some blood and guts and a superhero orgy and someone strangles Scarlet Witch with a belt!

But.

The scene where poor old Annie, Starlight, has to service six members of the Seven to get in? It's awful. And a considerable part of the text is concerned not only with her coming to terms with the assault but (and how often to you see this?) actually come to terms with and starting to heal from the assault.

The two black teams who scream the N word at each other? There's no discussion of the young black man who is going to be forced into one of the teams who sees nothing he recognises of his experiences in tired mainstream hip hop lingo and posing. A man who has begun to understand that to become a superstar, he has to enter into a well-dodgy narrative.

No discussion of the good people warped into being celebrities and what that costs them, which is the central metaphor of the book.

Or the actual honesty when Hughie, who's never met a gay man but has to hang out in a gay club and suddenly finds his liberal sensibilities a bit overwhelmed. A scene that's never, ever played for cheap gay joke laughs.

The point of Hughie going down on a girl with a period is not that it's gross and his mates laugh at him. It's that he refuses to let something as dumb as that get in the way of his relationship with Annie. He cops some jokes and some pisstaking but then will not let the deathly embarrassed girl freak out over what turns out to be ... nothing at all.

In recent years, we've also seen a cheap man-on-man 'Dark Knight Returns' rape joke actually turns out to actually be a proper discussion on the reasons why a chap might not be able to discuss it with his friends. And what that cost him.

St Patrick's Day sucks? Surely an repatriated Northern Irishman who grew up in the Troubles has nothing to say about the immigrant experience to the United States. What a hack!

As for scoring political points off 9/11.... mate. Welcome to the world. I fail to even see an argument here.

I'm not going to say everyone should love The Boys. And sometimes I get a bit weary of schoolboys bleeding out of their arses and all the rest. And I think Ennis has made his point about religion by now. I do. (Spoiler alert: Preacher)

I like the comic but I don't expect everyone to be able to laugh like I do when the mentally ill Batman analogue has sex with a meteor.

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

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Arthur B

at 13:32 on 2011-10-28Hi dcc46, welcome to Ferretbrain!

I've not read

The Boys

but I have read enough Ennis to at least address this point:

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

You know what else is incredibly lazy? Basing your writing career so heavily on cheap shock tactics which come across like a 13 year old trying to be edgy. I couldn't get past the first volume of

Preacher

because Ennis' obsession with gore, fucking, and other scatological subjects just became intensely monotonous. His contributions to 2000 AD were much the same. His

Hellblazer

run started out brilliantly - I think

Dangerous Habits

is both the best thing he's written and the best

Hellblazer

story that

anyone

has written - but I couldn't abide the rest of it precisely because he kept falling back into bad habits.

When a man makes a career out of indulging his puerile instincts to an extent where consistently and repeatedly his material degenerates into lame attempts to be shocking for the sake of it, that's pretty hackish.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:51 on 2011-10-28Well, if that's all you've read of Hellblazer, that's cool. When he was, what, 21, he wrote that. There was a bit of a fall off in quality before he'd come back with stories of Kit and Ric the Vic and end up telling stories of the devil contrasted with the nasty realities of racial politics in early 90s London.

If you passed on Preacher, that's cool. That second story arc is uninspired. But you missed out on a a meditation of faith, friendship, watching a man try to navigate between his old-fashioned 'chivalry' and a woman who refused to be patronised or left behind.

So I honestly don't see shocking for shocking's sake. I see bad taste. But I've never felt there's a kind of splatter punk aesthetic at work.

That's sort of my point.

I see humour that may or may not work for you. But I'm suggesting to you that if you can get past the guts and jizz all over the shop. And if that's really a sticking point for you, then you won't ever get into it.

But I think your wrong if puerility is all you get out of the work.

I know you had issues with his early 2000AD run. I never got that. I'm Australian and 2000AD seemed to ship... on a madman's calendar. So I can't comment on that.

So I tell you what. Try something like his PG Hitman. His war stories, where he reigns himself in. His Punisher MAX, which is humorless as a Derek Raymond novel.

But I'll split you the difference: Jennifer Blood is fucking awful.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 14:05 on 2011-10-28Anyways, I'm off.

But, a hack writer is a bad writer. Matt Reiley is a hack writer. He's bad at the English language, his plots are hackneyed, his haircut is stupid.

If you don't like Ennis' work, that's cool. But just because you think he wraps things up in grossness doesn't make him a bad writer -at all-. He's an accomplished writer with themes and metaphors and all that writery stuff.

Nevertheless, good site. Talk later.

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valse de la lune

at 16:00 on 2011-10-28

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

How quaint; you appear to be gnashing your teeth exactly because Cyrus didn't like the thing. I also agree with Arthur's assessment of Ennis: overrated hack pandering to things teenage boys--usually teenage white boys at that, what with the n-word thing--find oh so edgy and clever.

Preacher

is absolutely fucking unreadable and I spit in its general direction.

And, while you can certainly use the word "hack" to denote a poor writer--which I'd argue Ennis

is

, at that--his general attitude and output are pretty hacky too, in the lowest-common-denominator sense.

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Rude Cyrus

at 20:31 on 2011-10-29Here's the thing: whatever good points or ideas Ennis may have are ruined by the juvenile shock tactics he wraps them in -- it's one thing to use violence and sex occasionally and for great effect, it's another to use them

all the time.

For example, I can agree with Ennis that St. Patrick's Day is an excuse for every American with a drop of Irish blood to wear green and get sick on beer, but when he ends this commentary on a close-up on a hat filled with puke, it makes me roll my eyes.

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Show / Hide Comments -- More in April 2009

[cerastes]

HEY DRIMO it's been a while since you did a big myth post so how about you tell me a cool story about my boi karna

Oh dear me, Hindu mythos, damn, ok, so, first rule of Hindu mythos is that you all have to wear your seat belts while reading this. If you don’t, you are susceptible to immense physical and spiritual damage, enough that it might kick you right out of the cycle of reincarnation, and then the Mythos Retelling Collective (MRC) will revoke my license due to Irresponsible Sharing of Intense Tales (art. 23847). Are you all strapped in? Y’all got your helmets? Alright alright, let’s get this show on the road.

SO, KARNA. I assume most of you are familiar with Karna having Big Strength and being god damn unkillable. Ok, so, it goes beyond that. It goes at least three Milky Ways in width beyond that. Originally known by his other name, Vasusena (and this dude has like 14 different names), Karna is the main protagonist of the Hindu epic, Mahabharata, and–

Oh, right, before I can tell you anything about the Mahabharata, or about Hindu mythos in general, I need to explain power levels. So you know how in Dragon Ball Z Abridged, Vegeta and Nappa use “Raditz” as a unit of measure for power levels and ki? “My power level is 500 Raditz.” “My power level is 23000 Raditz”, the joke being that Raditz was such a weak grunt that his meager total power can be used as a unit as you would with centimeters? Ok, this is actually canon in Hindu mythos. They have a scale of power levels, referred to as “Levels of Warrior Excellence”. The levels are:

Ardha-rathi: The lowest level, meaning literally “Half of a Rathi”. Read the next section for a more elaborate explanation, but this is Yamcha-tier, basically, the weakest of the badasses.

Rathi: It almost sounds like Raditz, doesn’t it? Well, Rathi is the unit by which all the other levels of Warrior Excellence are measured, as well as a rank by itself. A Rathi is an individual so powerful and skilled, that they can do battle with 1000 regular warriors simultaneously. This is the “Dynasty Warriors Playable Character” tier: Strong, but still susceptible to frames per seconds drops and getting stunlocked by arrows.

Atirathi: HERE is where things get spicy. An Atirathi is a warrior that can fight with six Rathi simultaneously. This is the level of strength possessed by Kevin by the time of Home Alone 2.

Ekarathi: You thought six was impressive? TRY EIGHT RATHI SIMULTANEOUSLY. We are entering Popeye-with-spinach levels of world-ending strength now.

Maharathi: The top level, the cream of the crop, the true definition of “Fuckhouse”. Those who reach this level are immensely powerful, and can do battle with 12 or more Rathi simultaneously. That is 12000 asses worth of whoopings. This is where you favorite Touhou is, obviously, and fuck what everyone else says.

Their measure of unit is basically “How many thousands of dudes can this person fight, or how many people that can fight a thousand people at once can this person fight?”, which, in other words, means that India has not fucked around a single day in it history.

So you might be wondering, “where’s Karna in all of this?”. Well, Chili Con Karna is SO MINDBOGGLINGLY STRONG AND SPICY that he is, literally, a Double Maharathi. Karna is stated to be “in terms of strength and skill, equal to two Maharathi warriors”. These peak jokers made this elaborate power level chart just so they could say “AND KARNA IS DOUBLE AS STRONG AS THE STRONGEST”. He is Two Gokus. Karna could literally look at you, without the laser, and you would just be atomized, restructured, and atomized again in the span of minus three seconds, and you would thank him for it. And damn RIGHT you would thank him for it, because he probably didn’t mean to do that to you. That’s because Karna, despite having more powers than Superman and God combined, is the Ultimate Good Boy. This dude is Puppy Kiss Central, this dude chips in on Pizza Thursday every week, and makes up for those who didn’t chip in. Karna lets you take the last chicken nugget. Karna lets you use Player 1 when you hang out at his place. Karna tells you to text him or call him once you get home after hanging out and he gets worried if you don’t. That dashing guy you saw doing volunteer work at the homeless shelter the other day? Probably Karna. The owner of Old Friends Dog Sanctuary? Definitely Karna.

He’s GOOD.

And that’s why the Mahabharata is so painful: I don’t speak Hindi, but I am pretty sure “mahabharata” translates directly to “Karna Has Bad Day :(”. Today, we’ll be talking about Karna’s Three Curses, with a little bit of his childhood for context on the first one, and because I just want to talk about his dumbass mom. Also that one time he clowned Arjuna and Planet Fucking Earth got mad at him.

SO, there was this lady named Kunti, princess of the Kunti Kingdom (yeah), and this one time she was the host to a sage named Durvasa, who was visiting. She is a most Excellent Host, and provided Durvasa with the best of services, the most delicious food, the most luxurious of drinks, and every volume of Detective Conan, and Durvasa was so stoked at this 10/10 Would Come Again service, that he gave Kunti a special boon: With a mantra he taught her, she now had the amazing power to get knocked up by any deity of her selection. Kunti was really happy with her new pregnancy powers, and couldn’t wait to try them out, so she did to call upon the Sun God Surya, and guess what fucking happened: That’s right, fucking happened. It was a violent and intense cyclone of sex so kinky that the baby was born with armor and earrings (in some versions, Surya “handed” the child to Kunti, but in others, which I opt to believe, Kunti bore his child, and his fat solar load was so powerful that the fetus was armored). And then Kunti was like “oh fuck it worked lol but I am not wed” and since she didn’t want to be an unmarried mother (refer to Hindu tradition for this one), so she did like many other Mothers In Mythology and she put Armor Baby on a basket and set him afloat on the rivER LIKE A REAL KUNT, IT WAS IN HER NAME ALL ALONG, WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES KEEP DOING THIS.

THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS IS TURNING LONG.

Like many other Babies In Mythology, Armor Baby was found by someone, this someone being a charioteer named Adhiratha, but not just ANY charioteer, this was the chief charioteer of King Dhritarashtra, who I hope will forgive me if I wrote his name wrong, and was adopted by the charioteer and his wife, Radha. Armor Baby was given a name, Vasusena, and his pet name was Radheya among the locals. Being born an armored baby, it should come as no surprise Vasusena was interested in the military arts, and so he approached this really cool dude named Dronacharya who taught princes about warfare, BUT Drone told the armor kid to fuck the off because he only taught Kshatriyas (the military social caste in Hindu culture), but he was very impressed by Vasusena’s guts because this shit ass kid more or less just strolled into his house and said “HEY TEACH ME HOW TO BE A BADASS”, so he suggested to his father to change his name to Karna, which means “one who peels his own skin”, as a reference to his guts and totally not any sort of foreshadowing to anything NO SIR WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT.

So ok he got a cool name and whatever, bUT SEE, he still got told to fuck off, which he DIDN’T LIKE, so Cartman, not one to be daunted, sought out Dron’s own teacher instead, because fuck you, that’s why. So Kane finds him, name of Parashurama, and asks him BUT FIRST he disguises himself as a Brahmin, because Futurama only teaches Brahmins, and Karlos was not gonna make THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE. Panasonic agrees, seeing potential in this Double Goku kid and so begins the training arc. Result: Parashurama proudly announces that Karna is his equal in the art of warfare and archery. All this heaving and hoing gets my man Parmesan tired, though, so Karna, ever the good boy, offers his sensei his lap so he can sleep, sensei says fuck yeah and he uses his lap pillow. While he is sleeping, however, a very angry bee goes and stings the hell out of Karna’s thigh, but he’s got his sensei on his lap, which is like when you have a cat or a puppy on your lap and it falls asleep and you do not DARE move. So he didn’t, and this leads to a very important lesson to be learned in the Mahabharata: NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED. When he woke up, Parashurama saw the wound and the blood that flowed from it (and from this, I take bees in India are Cazadores from Fallout New Vegas) and immediately realized that Kane was NOT a Brahmin. This lie meant he had ILLEGALLY STOLEN INFORMATION, and so he cast a curse on Karna that made him forget everything about how to wield the divine weapon Brahmandra-astra, an immensely powerful divine weapon he learned to use, but Karna pleaded to please be reasonable, at which point Par realized, hey, maybe this is kinda excessive and impulsive, so he reduced the curse to make it so Karna would only forget it when he needed it the most against an equally powerful warrior, which IS NOT ANY FUCKING BETTER, and then he felt EVEN WORSE because Karna had basically been his best student ever and is a Good Person, so he gave him his own divine weapon, the Bhagavastra, as well as his bow, Vijaya. I mean, you could’ve just. Undone the curse. But hey. New weapons!

So Karna, a dedicated and excellent archer, was VERY HYPED to try out this new legendary bow he had come to own! There’s a thing in Hindu martial arts called “Shabdavedi Vidhya”, the art of hitting a target by detecting the source of the sound. What Karna didn’t consider is that shooting things by just detecting their sound, you know, means you are not REALLY LOOKING AT WHAT YOU ARE SHOOTING, but hey, like eager-to-try-new-toys mother, like eager-to-try-new-toys son. Three guesses as to what happened. You are RIGHT, HE SHOT A FUCKING COW. And it’s not with a little arrow or a harmless stick, this was with the Vijaya, which means that cow was obliterated off the face of this god damn planet. My dude was practicing “shooting at sounds” with a tactical nuke launcher. What the tits did he expect to happen. SEE, I’m sure you know, but shooting cows in India is not exactly something you just apologize about. But Karna, albeit not the brightest crayon in the box, was still Ultimate Good Boy, so he went to apologize to the owner of the cow, who happened to be an actual Brahmin who had performed the Agnihotra rite daily, which made him extra holy. Brahmin, of course, was pissed, and since apparently people in India just have a full moveset of curses ready to sling at a moment’s noticed, cursed Karna AGAIN, with this curse being “fated to die a helpless and callous death”. Not the best series of days for Karna. He could’ve just walked away, but he’s a Good Boy, so he had to take responsibility. NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

So I want to call attention to this bitch of a life for a second: Baby is born because some cunt used her super pregnancy powers to see if they worked without considering the consequences of, you know, getting super pregnant, Baby is chucked into a basket and sent to fuck off on the rapids, is picked up, immediately tries to enroll with a fighting master, instead enrolls with a SUPER fighting master that taught the previous fighting master, and gets double cursed for being a good boy and having bad trigger discipline.

Now, let’s skip a couple of chapters, and we arrive at the moment where the Pandava princes, all demi-gods, hosted a “tournament” of sorts to show off their skills to the people and to their guru, Drona. They were all having a good time, being badass and superpowered WHEN SUDDENLY Karna shows up and arrogantly challenges them because he knows he can do better, from what he has seen. One of the princes, Arjuna (kept you waiting, huh?), who was regarded by Drona to be the most powerful and skilled on the Pandava, told him to maybe fuck off, and that they couldn’t compete because they were above him, as his caste was no doubt lower than theirs. A certain pair of ears DID NOT LIKE THIS and jumped to Karna’s defense: Duryodhana is the name of the owner of said ears, and he’s got Authority. How much of it? Well, he just up and named Karna King of Anga then and there, just so he could compete. Holy SHIT. Now, see, Duryo hates the Pandava. Duryo REALLY, REALLY HATES the Pandava, and he was 100% behind supporting this random stranger if it meant he could possibly maybe humiliate these ugly sumbitches. Maybe. Ok, see, here’s where it gets a bit weird, but depending on who tells the tale, Duryo and Karna actually already knew each other and were childhood friends, but most tellings make this their first meeting, and I am absolutely on board with that, because it only goes on to show how much Duryo hated the Pandava, and divine people in general. He just fucking HATED gods, man. Can relate. So Karna goes and UTTERLY OUTDOES AND UPSTAGES the Pandava princes. Outright beats all their highscores and writes “ASS” in the 1st Place billboard on each entry as his name. They are all FURIOUS at him, especially Arjuna, who had aced every single event, and now had to wear a nice 2nd place on all of them because this absolutely nobody (no one knew Karna was the sun’s son yet) showed up and utterly pulverized them. This also starts his relationship with Duryo, with whom he’d become fast, and eventually, best friends.

BUT, SEE, HE KINDA GOT MADE A KING, SO HEY, HE HAD TO GO, UH, TEND TO THAT. He was checking his brand new sudden kingdom, when he came across a WEEPING CHILD. If there is one thing Ultimate Good Boy can’t stand, that’s the tears of children, so he approached the girl and asked what’s wrong. See, the girl had accidentally dropped her ghee (kinda like butter but less dense) and she was going to get her ass whooped by her step mother. Karna kindly offered to buy her new ghee, but she said it had to be THAT SPECIFIC ghee with the dirt on it, and that she didn’t want any other. Karna, in his infinite kindness, said “oh, sure, lol”, so he grabbed the dirt and squeezed it with all of his extremely godly might, extracting the ghee back into the jar as if squeezing water out of a sponge, because that’s just the kind of solution you come up with when you are the strongest person in Ever.

hey

hey

you guys remember what I said a while ago?

WHY YES

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

Guess what happened. Guess whose anger he incurred. He got Bhumi Devi/Mother Earth herself pissed at him. And what was her beef, you ask? Well, see, Karna squeezed that soil SO DAMN HARD that she took offense. Yes. Really. And guess whSHE FUCKING CURSED HIM TOO, OH MY GOD, CEASE THIS, YOU CAN’T JUST HEX A DUDE FOR SQUEEZING DIRTY, COME ON. The curse this time was that she would one day trap his chariot’s wheel during a crucial moment in his life. All because that little girl wouldn’t make do with a new jar of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.

WORST. WORLD. EVER.

And guess how Karna dies.

Yes.

His chariot’s wheel gets trapped on the earth (third curse) during a crucial confrontation with Arjuna, he attempts to defend himself with his astral weapon, but forgets how to conjure it (first curse), and is decapitated by a shot of Arjuna’s Gandiva as he helplessly leans against the chariot’s wheel, unable to free it (second curse).

The moral of the story is don’t fucking help anyone, ever, and don’t own up to your mistakes, because if you do, you’ll be triple cursed.

                                                                                       Karna deserved better.

[btsjfans]

Gradually

request: Hi, I really loved ur Blog so much and this is my first request that I've ever made 😅so can you do a fanfic(angst - smut -fluff )between Yoongi and reader, where the reader ended up being pregnant and in beginning he hated this fact and didn't expect it but he ended adoring the reader and the baby Sorry if I made it long 😭but I think it would be so good💕💕thank you.

a/n: seriously this one has been in my inbox for a little while and I’ve been so frickin psyched to write this

Min Yoongi x Reader (smut, angst, fluff) summary^^

masterlist

8 months.

 For 8 months, Min Yoongi had been on tour. For 8 desolate months you, his dutiful wife, waited patiently at home. He and the boys had been winding their careers down, all having homes to settle, and finding it hard to keep up the boy-band life while having wives at home. Yoongi obviously would never quit music, so while he worked on the road, you worked with his manager to get his own producing company and studio ready for when he came back. 

It was a lot of hard work, but you knew this was his dream, so you might as well save him the work anyways. 

But after all this work, and after all your nights spent sharing the cold bed with nothing but your thoughts, your love, Min Yoongi, was home. 

You’d waited eagerly at the airport in the company of Jin, Namjoon, and Hose’s wives, as well as Jimin’s girlfriend. As soon as Yoongi walked through the gate, you were in his arms, and his lips were on yours. You didn't realize how hungry you were for him until he was clutching you needily against his chest, and his lips were hungrily exploring yours. You both breathily pulled apart, before giving a quick goodbye to the others and hitting the road. As the two of you drive home, he tells you about his tour, keeping his hand in an iron grip around your thigh, tracing his fingers closer and closer to your hot core. Your breath got heavier and heavier as the drive proceeded, until your only thoughts were about him in your bed.

As you pull up to the penthouse, you two hastily carry the bags in before dropping them and slamming the door shut, once again falling into each other’s arms. Hot breaths mixed as your lips roughly found each other, him pushing you up the stairs and onto the bed. 

He climbs on top of you, his lips hungrily exploring your neck, sucking and nipping, leaving marks all over your neck to make up for lost time. You whimper and writhe beneath him as his hands grip and roam your body, gently kneading your breasts and grinding against you.

“Yoongi I wanted 8 months, don’t make me wait any longer, I need you now.” Your voice comes out as a whine, desperate for him. 

“Just this once, only because I need you just as bad,” he growls against your neck before hastily tearing your clothes from your body, his breath hitching at the sight of his princess in all her glory, before removing his own. 

He rubs his hand up and down his erect length a couple times, before teasing your clit lightly. He slips his fingers into your core, smirking.

“Wet for me still, even after 8 months. Perfect.” He places a light kiss on your folds lightly, before positioning himself between your legs. He roughly slams into you, making you cry out as you adjust. “God, so tight, so tight for me,” He grunts, slowly moving in and out to let you adjust before speeding up, leaving you moaning as his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, hungrily sucking and massaging it with his tongue. 

He yanks you up, turning you over on all fours, holding you by your hair as he continues to mercilessly pound into you from behind, one hand slapping your ass. 

“God Yoongi, I’m so--Yoongi!” You cry out as you hit your orgasm, him grunting as his thrusts become sloppier. The feeling of you clenching around him speeds up his own upcoming orgasm. 

“Shit,” he grunts, his warm cum filling you up, as you both collapse next to each other, him pulling you against his side, his cock still inside of you as you catch your breath. He gingerly kisses your head and rubs your back.  “I missed you.” 

The next day you take him to his new studio, where he acts like a child on Christmas. He’s all over the equipment, his eyes as wide as saucers, his gummy smile stretching across his face. You leave him to settle in and head home. Your period is supposed to come tomorrow, so you stop to grab some tampons before finally arriving at home. Yoongi comes home late, around 11, which you expected. His work was his life, and you knew he’d be all over his new home. 

“Y/n, I can’t thank you enough, I just, you...you. You’re just so perfect and I love our life together so much. So much. Just the way it is. You’re the perfect wife, and the perfect woman, and I’m so fucking lucky I just...I don’t want any of this to change. God I love you.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, his hands trailing into your hair, before you two sit and cuddle on the couch.

Your period doesn't come the next day.

Or the next week.

And then you remember. 

He came in you.

You both weren't protected that night.

While Yoongi is at work, you rush to the local store picking up a pregnancy test before hurrying home and taking it.

Positive.

You were excited, you had been married for almost 2 years, and you absolutely loved this man. You knew you two would have kids, so it didn’t bother you that you guys would be starting now. 

Will it be a little boy? A little girl? It didn't matter, it was yours. You  excitedly called your friends and parents before getting dressed up and doing your hair and makeup. You were going to tell Yoongi, and you wanted it to be memorable. You found your favorite knee length red dress and preparing a candle lit dinner. You texted him and told him to come home early because you had a surprise, and he thankfully obliged. 

By 8pm he’s home and waiting at the table as you presented the meal. He was pleased with it all of course, and you two dug in, sharing quips and conversation about your day’s and whatnot. You suddenly feel nervous as you start to realize what you’re about to tell him.

“Yoongi, I’m..ugh.” You laugh nervously and bite your lip.

“Yes?” Yoongi smiles waiting.

“I’m pregnant.”

His smile disappears. 

He didn't take the news like you thought he would. Instead of excitedly cheering and hugging you, his smile dropped and he looked at you blankly.  “You’re pregnant?” He had asked. You nervously nodded, still smiling hopefully. 

“Isn’t it great?” You had pressed.

He just nodded. “I’m going to the studio.” He had said. 

He still hadn’t come back. 

In fact, he didn't come back for 3 days. 

When he did come back, he just swapped clothes and took a shower and a nap, not speaking to you the whole time. You had pleaded, begged even, for him to say something, but he just walked out, leaving you a crying mess for another 3 days. 

You thought his homecoming would mean warm cuddles and happy, loving exchanges, but instead you were back where you started: alone and sad. Every night you would wait up by the door for him, only to be disappointed as he wouldn't come. 

You’d taken to calling the baby Holly, it made nights less lonelier to talk to “Holly”, rather than “half orphaned fetus”. You began to wonder if he was even going to come back for real. After a week and a half of unanswered texts, and visits lasting no longer than 5 hours with no words spoken on his part, you felt like you were going to have to raise this baby on your own. 

You’d finally called and confided in Jin, who said he would check on Yoongi. 

“Y/n-yah, it’s..it’s not good.” Jin had said.

“What do you mean?” You warily asked.

“He..” Jin lets out a long sigh before continuing. “He doesn't want the baby. He’s just..he’s writing angry..sad tracks at the studio and drinking and he just...he doesn't want what you have to change and I think there’s more to it but I just..I think you need to make sure you have another support system, because Yoongi might not be it at this point.” Another shaky breath. “I think you may have to raise this child on your own.”

After two whole months of the cold shoulder he came home for real. You were starting to wonder if Jin was right, if you were going to have to raise this baby alone.

You were laying on the couch, hand on your belly, watching a movie when you heard the front door open. You looked to see a disheveled Yoongi at the door. 

“Y/n..” His voice was quiet and raw. He closed the door slowly before walking to the living room, sitting on the coffee table in front of you and grabbing the remote to turn off the tv. “I..” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been a dick. I have been, and I know this. You deserve the world, not somebody like me. You deserve a prince, not some...some heartless jerk who takes everything for granted. I..BTS was my home for so long, and then I met you, and you became like my vacation home, and I couldn't accept that the boys weren't my home anymore, and now you’re all I have, and I knew that, but it was hard to realize. I’m not Min Yoongi, BTS rapper anymore, I’m just Min Yoongi. But I’m Min Yoongi, Y/n’s husband, and I need to start acting like it. Y/n, you’re my whole life. You’re my one and only, before anyone else. You’re my girl. And I don’t want to screw it up. I don’t want to be an awful dad, or an awful husband, and drive you away. And when you said you were pregnant, I just..I got scared. I’m worried I’m not ready to be a dad, heck sometimes I wonder if I’m even ready to be your husband. Y/n I don't want to let you down, I just..You’re all I have. I can’t..I can’t loose you. And this child..this child of ours..what if it hates me. What if I let it down? What if..what if I ruin it’s life? God Y/n I want you and our baby to have the world, and I’m scared I can’t give you two that..and I spent this time..dicking around. I just sat in my studio and cried and drank and threw myself away like a coward, and..that wasn't right. I should have been there for you. I should have swept you off your feet and told you I love you and I’m ready. And I think I am now. Because every night, I just imagined you, me, and this baby. Us. Our family. And I’m ready now. If you’ll have me.” His voice is tired and shaky as he speaks, and he looks up at you with a raw, pleading glint in his eyes. A wisp of his blonde hair falls in front of his eyes, and you move to brush it away. 

“Yoongi...I...” You’re at a loss for words as you stare at the broken man before you. He looks so desperate as he waits for your response. He hurt you. He left you. You should be mad, but here you sit, desperately wanting to crawl into his arms and hold him tight. 

While this man has brought you through some hard times, he’s also brought you right back out. He’s shown you what love is, what love means. He was your world. Is your world. And here he is, waiting to be let back in. 

No matter what this man does, he’s yours. 

“Yoongi...I forgive you.”

“Oh my god, Y/n..” Yoongi’s dark eyes shine with tears as he gingerly takes baby Holly from the nurse. His smile shakes as he holds back his tears, looking from you to the small baby tucked gently in his arms. 

“Let me see,” You press tiredly, scooting over for him to sit by you. He gently sits next to you, setting your baby in your arms. He puts his arm around you, squeezing your side gently, and placing a soft kiss on your head. 

“God I love her. I love you. I love..I love this.” his voice is soft as he stares in awe at the two of you.

Holly stirs in her sleep at the sound of her father’s voice.

And you fall asleep, tucked away in the arms of your beloved, while holding your baby close against your chest. 

[softestziam]

Here it is, under the cut, the fetus Ziam fic I never got around to finishing, all 6K words of it.

"Lou's proper pissed at you."

Liam turned his head to face Zayn and made sure he saw him rolling his eyes. "He'll get over it." "I know," Zayn laughed, walking up behind Liam to rest his hands on his hips and his chin on his shoulder, holding him close from behind. "Makes me feel offended." "The lads enjoyed themselves tonight, yeah?" Liam asked, brow scrunched up as he laid a kiss to Zayn's temple. "They're gonna be hurting tomorrow," Zayn told him with a light laugh. "Who gets smashed at a rehearsal dinner?" Liam rolled his eyes again. "Where have you been these last six years babe? And don't count that year and a half away because we both know that's just bull. Any chance of a celebration we go all out." Zayn nodded, his head still resting on Liam's shoulder. They both just stood there, staring out the hotel room window overlooking the London skyline. The sun had set hours ago leaving the sky black, not a single cloud evident in the sky. If they looked close and hard enough a few stars could be seen shining above the high rise buildings. The city seemed quiet at this time of night, people were still milling about below but at a leisurely pace, no rush at all. It was moments like this that both boys could enjoy a city they'd call home for over three years. "We're getting married tomorrow," Liam whispered into the quiet room. Zayn could hear the smile in his voice, his cheeks rising and the squint lines appearing by his eyes, an obvious sign that Liam was smiling wide. His reflection off the glass window in front of them gave it away too. "I know," he reminded him, placing a soft kiss to Liam's neck. "I'm the one who proposed, remember?" "Vaguely," Liam teased and tried to dodge Zayn as he pinched at his side. "Honestly babe, back when we met each other you'd ever think we'd be getting married?" "Honestly?" Zayn asked to which Liam nodded, turning his head slightly to properly face his fiancé before comfortably resting against his chest. "I hoped for it. I was mad for you before I even really knew you. I've told you this before though." "I know," Liam laughed. "Just like to hear it again from time to time." "Arse," he joked. "Love you, Liam." "Love you too."

Zayn always felt like he was a little bit in love with Liam, even before they officially met. Back in 2008 when he watched X Factor with his parents and sisters, it was a family tradition for as long as he could remember. Zayn was wildly interested in the boys category that year, having the chance to audition that year before his nerves got the best of him. He looked at these boys as the ones he would've competed against, which one took the spot he was so destined to fill. That's when he saw Liam for the first time, during his initial audition. Zayn could vividly remember being impressed by his voice as he sang "Fly Me To The Moon". After every audition his family would always add their input, he was too stunned to even form a proper thought. If someone asked Zayn now to name the other boys names, he'd tell you to piss off. His eyes were trained on Liam and Liam alone. Following his every move, his whole entire journey. Feeling the heartbreak alongside Liam when Simon sent him home during judges houses. Zayn felt sorry for the boy, a boy who technically was his same age. Watching him get so close to his dream just to have it taken away from him that easily. Not even paying attention during the rest of the series, not really caring that Alexander Burke won. He was still solely focused on Liam Payne. Was he ever going to see or hear from this boy again? To say it was the furthest thing from Zayn's mind, to find Liam, when he himself auditioned for X Factor in 2010 would be an understatement. Once again his nerves almost got the best of him, he felt silly, stupid. He wasn't going to even get a chance to see the judges, be on that stage in front of thousands of people. The producers were going to take one look at him and send him home, simple as that. He'd been waiting his whole life for this moment, a chance to prove himself in front of everyone. Make his mum and dad proud, represent Bradford. When Zayn got the go ahead and was told he was going to see the judges, be on the stage, he was overwhelmed. His mum kept reassuring him, reminding him that this was the moment they'd been working towards for two years. Walking up on the stage, seeing the people, hearing the people applaud, was surreal. That was the moment Zayn knew he was supposed to do this for the rest of his life. This was what he was put on this world for, sing to the masses, touch people with his talent. Zayn always thought of himself as confident, especially when he was younger, at an age where he thought he was invincible. Singing in front of Simon, Louis, and Nicole was probably one of the most nerve wracking things he ever had to do. He knew he could do it though, practiced and rehearsed more than enough times to feel comfortable performing in front of the crowd. He only needed two yeses to make his dream come true and when all three said yes Zayn couldn't believe his ears. Public displays of excitement was never something he was known for but he could feel himself bursting from the inside. He did it, he was moving a step forward in the competition. One step closer to fulfilling his dreams. Boot camp was probably his worst nightmare come true. Dancing was never something he was good at, goofing off and playing around in his bedroom with his friends and sisters was different. Getting judged on his dancing skills was not something Zayn was prepared for at all. That's when he was ready to quit, throw in the towel and just give up. Give up everything he worked for hard for, prepare for the lectures he would get from his parents. The ridicule he'd get from Doniya, always the supportive big sister. He sucked it up though, after a pep talk from Simon. It didn't matter though, he was cut and getting ready to pack up and head back to Bradford a failure. That's when his life was changed once again. Within a blink of an eye it seemed he was being put into a group with four other lads around his age. Liam was apart of that group. Liam who Zayn had met two days before at McDonald's while waiting online for a quick lunch fix. He recognized him right away, heard whispers from the other contestants that Liam was back to audition. That he crushed his audition and got a unanimous yes from all four judges. He was back and ready to prove himself to everyone, especially himself. Zayn was starstruck when he spotted Liam, words getting stuck in his dry throat. There he was, a boy only two years prior Zayn had fallen for. Now he was thrown into this life altering situation with no idea what to do. Join this group or go home and end his lifelong dream. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he wasn't going to let it slip from his hands, Zayn was going to hold onto this and ride this crazy wave. "Mum, should I do it?" Zayn asked as he threw whatever clean clothes he could find into a bag. "I mean, I know nothing about these boys." "And they know nothing about you," Trisha gently reminded him, handing over a shirt she neatly folded. Zayn smelt the shirt before stuffing it into his bag as his mum shook her head. "I wanted to do this solo, win it on my own." "You tried," she said softly. "Things don't always happen how we want them to but this is an excellent opportunity for you. The other four boys, too." "I know," he sighed and zippered his duffle bag closed. He placed the bag at the foot of the bed before taking a seat next to his mother. "Maybe we can make this work. We're all talented enough to make it to boot camp on our own." "This trip will solidify that," she assured him, patting his knee in comfort. "It's not going to be easy sunshine, nothing ever is. Your all driven and determined though. It'll work itself out." Zayn sighed once more and leaned against his mother's side resting his head on her shoulder. "I hope so." Zayn hated to admit it, but his mother was right. Taking the trip to Harry's father's bungalow really did help everyone. It was supposed to be a time away for them to get their sound right before heading to Simon's house and perform for the first time as a group. Not a lot of music happened though, it was a real bonding weekend. Louis had dubbed them partners in crime because they were both Yorkshire lads, which Zayn was honestly fine with. If they were going to make it work they needed to be a united front, a real group. These guys seemed to be real easy to get along with, it felt more like a catching up then a getting to know you type of weekend. Everyone seemed to rely on Liam, pick his brain on everything he knew seeing he'd been in the situation before. Not everything was sunshine and lollipops, everyone had something that made someone else tick. Louis and Liam seemed to butt heads a lot. They both wanted the same thing but had two very different ways of getting there. Zayn just sat back and tried to intervene when necessary. No matter what happened during the day everything was either resolved or pushed to the side by nightfall. Zayn could vividly recall the nights around the bonfire, sharing stories and getting to know everyone. Learning about their hometowns, their families, their friends. Knowing everyone's life stories before they even knew if they sounded good together as a group. Music was the furthest thing from their mind. Zayn would sit back and listen to everyone talk, Niall going on and on about Ireland and how living in England was his dream when he was younger. Watching Louis and Harry's relationship transform into whatever it was transforming into. And Liam, God Zayn could just stare at him all day and still be shocked that he knew him. People would call what Zayn felt admiration but he swore it was love. He hardly even knew this boy but his heart always felt like it would leap out of chest every time he saw Liam. The cliché butterflies in his stomach, the palms getting sweaty, all of it was because of Liam. He knew he had to keep it professional, friendly. Just because Harry and Louis seemed lucky to find each other so quickly and easily didn't mean he was. Also, Zayn didn't even know if they'd make it past judges house, why keep your hopes up when in a blink of an eye everything could be taken away from him. Simon's house in Spain was a whirlwind experience. Besides the fact that he left the country for the first time in his entire life, Zayn got a small glimpse of what his life would be like if they made it to the live shows. The chaos of all the behind the scenes, the cameras in his face, the pressure of performing. He tried his hardest to absorb everything around him, take in everything just in case it all ended that weekend. Just act like a normal seventeen year old who just happened to be living in a surreal experience. Everything was going smoothly, until Louis had to be rushed to the hospital after an incident when they were in the ocean. They all were nervous and concerned, would he be well enough to return in time for their performance? They all were relying on each other, they couldn't do this with just four of them. One of them was missing and everything would be off, wrong. The stress was getting to them immensely, Liam couldn't stop pacing around the home muttering something under his breath. Harry was concerned for more than one reason while Niall plastered himself next to Zayn for comfort. Somehow Louis returned in the nick of time, and somehow they got through their performance, and somehow they made it to the live shows. Still till this day it's all a blur to Zayn. Remembering Louis's return to the home, all five of them pressed close to each other in a bone crushing hug, sighs of relief escaping their lips easily. Pulling Louis aside just to tell him that he was glad that he was okay and that his partner in crime was by his side once more. The agonizing wait for Simon to make his decision was what really solidified them as a group. It wasn't the time away the week or so before or even when they performed together for the first time. The waiting made them realize that this may well be over in just a moment's notice. They may never see each other again, all of them living in different parts of the country, Niall in a different country completely. It was a daunting and heartbreaking realization. The elation that ran through all of them when Simon said they were advancing to the live shows was an emotion none of them could either replace or duplicate. Grabbing onto the nearest person, Liam, and burying himself into his chest, too afraid that he may actually cry on camera. His dream was coming true and he was with arguably his four best mates in the entire world.   "You're going to take care of yourself, right?" "Mum," Zayn groaned as he did a final visual sweep of his room. "I'm seventeen, think of me leaving as if I was going to uni." "I know," Trisha sighed and sniffled, clearly not trying to hide her emotions. "My little boy is moving to London though, to be on tv." "You're going to watch, yeah? Vote and whatnot," he asked. Trisha gawked at her son and playfully slapped his shoulder. "The whole family is. We believe in you sunshine. Go, your dad is waiting for you in the car. He wants his final bonding time minutes." "I love you," Zayn told her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm doing this for us, for the family." "Do it for yourself," she told him forcibly before nuzzling into his neck. "Be the star we know you can be, love." Being on X Factor was one of the best experiences in Zayn's life, he could never deny that. The life lessons he learned there alone was fulfilling enough. Living in a massive mansion with the other contestants, being properly responsible taught him a lot. Having roommates that weren't his parents or sisters took some getting use to. Fighting over sleeping arrangements was the biggest hurdle they all had to overcome during the first week. Seeing friends again like Cher and Aiden and trying to catch up while being pulled in a million different directions. Before the live shows even began there was so much that needed to be done, tv advertisements, promotional photoshoots, a styling meeting. No one ever mentioned those things to Zayn when he first audition. He was just lucky he wasn't doing it alone. He saw how Paije and Katie would drag towards the end of the day without anyone really to boost their morale. He didn't have to look far for support, Louis was always quick with a joke or Liam had a energy drink he was more than willing to share. It was the little things he noticed that were going to matter the most, the things that were going to get him through however far they ended up in the competition. The first live show went by in a blur, Zayn had no idea if it actually really truly did happen at first. The nerves vibrating through him, the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was all real, too real in fact. They all got through rehearsals without any real problems, more confidence than they originally anticipated. Once they all hit the stage and the lights were on them and the crowd was screaming, the judges staring up at them. It got to be a bit much. They did it though, One Direction successfully finished their first live performance as a group. Simon looked pleased as did the rest of the judges. Shaking off the adrenaline afterwards was the hardest thing to adjust to. It was a high they all chased for most of their lives and to now reach it was phenomenal. The house was buzzing when they got back, everyone sharing their congratulations and their stories of nerves and stage fright. All the boys spent five minutes on the phone with their families basking in their praises and words of encouragement. Elimination day was the next day and everyone was on edge. "We did good?" Zayn squinted his eyes against the pitch black room. He couldn't really make out the person who had crawled into his bed. He knew it wasn't Niall who was snoring soundly above him in his own bunk. He also saw Harry's mop of curls across the room, squeezed into the bed he was currently sharing with Louis. "Liam?" "We did good, yeah?" He repeated as he threw the blanket over his body. "Like we're gonna make it through tomorrow." "Yea, Liam, we'll be fine," he assured him. His voice was low but confident, strong enough that he hoped Liam knew he was being serious. That was one thing Zayn had learned about Liam, he was confident but needed constant reassurance. That's why he bumped heads with Louis so often, Louis believed what he believed and didn't need anyone to tell him otherwise. "We smashed it." "Yeah," he tentatively agreed, nodding his head against the pillow he was currently sharing with Zayn. "I've just wanted this for so long, you know? I got so close two years ago and now I'm doing it all over again with you lot." "We're gonna win," Zayn whispered. That was the first time he'd ever said that out loud, he had thought it more than once in the past few weeks but now it was out there for the world, or in this case Liam, to hear. "We've got this." Liam sighed and shuffled around to get himself comfortable, his feet kicking at the blanket to set it straight over his bottom half. Flattening the pillow to fit his head better. "Can I stay here?" "Of course," he told him and rested against the now shared pillow. "Get some sleep babe, all will be fine tomorrow." It baffled Zayn sometimes, the many sides of Liam Payne. During rehearsals and on stage he was confident, born to do what he was doing. No one could touch him, he was invincible, Superman like actually. Once the performance was over he folded into himself, that confidence suddenly gone. The nerves and fears always got the best of him. The constant worrying fraying his nerves often. A pep talk and words of encouragement always seemed to go the job very quickly. Zayn on the other hand was always on edge, never knowing really how to place his emotions. He was always sure that he was going to be the reason why they were going to be sent home. He knew he could sing, that was more than obvious, but he never had enough confidence in his talent to think that he'd really push the group forward. Liam tried his best to boost his morale, the other lads did as well. Louis was always quick with an over the top story that was sure to cheer him up. Harry had a witty pun to share that made Zayn's sides hurt from laughing too hard and Niall was always good for a quick cuddle and quick pep talk. It was good to have everyone by his side, be the person for him that he was for them. They all had their moments when everything got to them, everything seemed to be too much to properly handle. They were young kids doing extraordinary things, it was a lot to adjust to. The weeks kept passing on by and they somehow never ended up in the bottom two or three. Never once close to elimination which honestly baffled them all. It hurt to see some of his friends go, frightened that he'd never see them again. Exchanging numbers and promises before they moved out of the home and back to the real world. Reality was slowly creeping in on the house the more people started to leave. This was more than a competition to Zayn, this was his real life. It all came crashing down on him when he was on his way home after a death in the family. Being back in Bradford was what he needed to do, he was needed at home. But on the other side he wanted so desperately to be back in London, be with the other boys and prepare for the upcoming show. It was crunch time and he along with the rest of the boys needed to be perfect to make it to the finals and win. His family came first and that was his one and only priority at the moment. The boys would text him at just the right moment, like they knew when he needed a quick distraction. Liam was the one who kept in contact with him the most. Telling him how he was immensely missed and the house felt lonely without him. Zayn knew it was him being friendly but it made his heart race. Returning to the house Zayn felt a shift, it seemed as if Liam never left his side. He frequently found himself sharing a bed with Liam at night. They'd start talking about music or comic books and next thing Zayn knew it was morning and Liam was sleeping behind him, breathing softly in his ear. It was all kinds of fucked up. He couldn't blame the other boy, Liam was obviously clueless as to what his actions did to him. It just confused him even more, they were friends and sometimes friends shared a bed. He never shared his bed with Niall, Louis, or Harry but Zayn was going to ignore that minor detail. Liam chose to crawl into his tiny twin sized bed and spend the night talking to him. He kept reminding him how much he had missed him and how important he was in the group, how it wouldn't work without him. It boosted Zayn's confidence tremendously, still two months into the competition and he still was uneasy about his contributions to the group. He also knew the looks he was getting from the other boys, all of them saying so much without saying anything at all. He got it, he understood their concern. "Zayn," Louis called to him and pulled him into the bathroom, away from prying eyes and the cameras. "Yeah?" He asked and hopped onto the bathroom counter, he knew what to expect when someone made sure they had privacy. This was going to be a long and daunting conversation. "What are you doing with Liam?" He asked and leaned against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest as he tried to show his authority. It never worked though. "Li-Liam," he scoffed. "Lou, stop. Go find Harry or something and bother him. Maybe Mary's in the kitchen, she somehow tolerates your antics." "He's in your bed every night, you walk off together without the rest of us. Always whispering and laughing," Louis rattled off. "Something is going on." "We're friends," he laughed. "I do the same thing with you or do you not notice that." "Zayn," he groaned and threw his head back until it smacked against the door. "We don't share a bed or whisper sweet nothings into each other's ear." "You want to?" He asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow to let him know he was teasing. "Fuck off," Louis laughed and shook his head. "That's not the point. It's okay if you like him, just be smart about it." Zayn hopped off the counter and rolled his eyes. "Like you and Harry are smart about it? And don't worry I don't like Liam. We're just mates." "Harry and I are together though, it's mutual, we've discussed it," he reminded him and took a tentative step forward. "We don't need anymore distractions, we're at the very end of this thing and we need everyone to be focused and concentrate on the task at hand." "Don't worry," Zayn assured him once more, patting his shoulder for emphasis. "This make believe story you have created it just that, make believe. We're all ready to conquer the finals and win this, okay?" Louis let out a sigh and nodded his head. "O-okay. But if you ever need to talk to me about anything you know I'll listen, yeah?" "Of course, Lou," he replied. "You're my partner in crime for a reason babe." Zayn knew he was lying to Louis and he deeply regretted it. That's not a way to start and build a relationship, they should have trust between them. He only lied because he didn't know what he was truly feeling. Did he like Liam because he was a good person and a great mate or did he like Liam because he wanted Liam to be his boyfriend? As the show began to wrap up Liam started to spend less time with the boys, he still put his all in during the rehearsals but he was spending a lot of time with one of the dancers on the show, Danielle. That's when the shift began for Zayn. That was the red flag for him, that's when he knew what he felt for Liam was more than brotherly. He was getting extremely jealous. He saw Louis and Harry happily together, sitting on top of each other practically all day long, even sleeping in the same bed. Niall was always good to be around but he was friendly with Matt and spent a lot of his free time with him. Zayn felt alone. It was just them, Matt, and Rebecca left in the house, a house that felt too small even though it was massive. Then the finale came and they didn't win. They came in third place, everyone was still so proud of them. They were proud of themselves. Zayn wasn't wrong when he said that it wouldn't be the last of One Direction. They still had a bright future left ahead of them, they still had the X Factor tour to look forward to. After all the interviews and parties wrapped up it felt weird that Zayn was now heading home back to Bradford. They all were getting a little break for the holidays before the tour began. Saying goodbye to all the boys was the hardest things he probably ever had to do thus far in his life. Hugging everyone longer than necessary, still completely uncertain of what exactly their future held. Promises to keep in touch and talk to each other even when they should've been sick of each other by now. Saying goodbye to Liam was the hardest, holding onto to his hug longer and tighter, breathing the boy in one last time before he left. Getting a reassuring pat on the back from Louis and a reminder that he was always available to talk if Zayn ever needed it. Luckily Doncaster wasn't that far away so he promised Louis he'd take him up on his offer. Being home after months away felt odd. He felt like he didn't fit it anymore. Everyone was living their life while he was trying to create one for himself in London. Everything was so chaotic when he did get a small opportunity to head back home during the competition that Zayn didn't have time to soak everything in. His family didn't treat him any differently, his parents still made sure he cleaned his room and washed the dishes when it was his turn. His sisters still bothered him like sisters were supposed to. It felt normal, it felt good. Going to the market with his mum or just walking around with his dad seemed to be the most difficult. People recognized him, knew he'd be returning home eventually. Getting stopped for autographs while trying to pick up a carton of milk was something he needed to get use to it seemed. That's why he rarely left his home, it was safer that way, calmer. Remaining in contact with the boys seemed the easiest, a quick text message during the day to just say hello. Stories of how fans had found them and were begging for a picture or autograph. Did these people not realize that they had lost, came in third place? No one was going to take this for granted but it still felt a bit bizarre. "You okay?" Zayn rested against the back of the bench in Louis's garden, inhaling deeply from their shared cigarette. "Being home was getting to be too much." "Yea," Louis agreed with a nod, taking the offered cigarette from Zayn's hand. "People went mental when they saw Harold and I together last week. Utter madness." "I'm excited to see the other lads next week," Zayn added. “How is Harry by the way?”

“Good,” Louis answered. “Up in Ireland with Niall before catching up with is for the tour.”

Zayn took the cigarette from Louis's hand and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke coat his throat before it went straight to his lungs, the burning sensation welcoming. “I haven't heard from Liam much.”

“Oh.”

“What?” Zayn asked and snubbed the cigarette out on the concrete wall behind him. He looked over at Louis who was just nodding his head, obvious that he wanted to add to his comment but refrained. “Bro.”

Louis just kept shaking his head, knowing full well how his words may affect Zayn. “It's n-nothing.”

“Lou!”

“He's been spending his time with Danielle,” he finally gave in with a sigh. “Brought her up to Wolverhampton to meet the fam.”

“Th-that's good,” Zayn tried to sound as casual as possible. It didn't bother him, not at all. Why would it? Liam was more than allowed to bring his girlfriend to meet the family, that was the next logical step anyway. “How's nineteen feeling?”

“Zayn,” Louis sighed. They may not have been friends for long but by now Louis knew how to read him like a book. The soft voice, the faraway look. The last time he got like this was the night of the finale, when so many uncertainties hung heavy over their heads and hearts. “Judgment free zone, remember?”

Zayn just shook his head and reached into his pocket for another cigarette. He lit it without a word, letting the silence speak volumes for him. Louis just let him be though. Even though he didn't want to see his friend so despondent, Louis knew what battle to fight and which ones to just let go. If Zayn wanted to keep denying his obvious feelings for Liam, that was his prerogative. All Louis could do was lend a supportive shoulder to lean on or a word whenever Zayn needed to hear it. Louis knew it wasn't easy, having feelings for someone who was unable to reciprocate them.