#i fucking hate my job and i hate still having this stupid fucking driving anxiety and hate that i didn't fight harder for what i wanted

[mooshkat]

.

[decodedlvr]

the band-aid to my wounds

Older!Eddie Munson x naive!Fem reader - eventual twins Steve Harrington x reader x Kurt Kunckle series| pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 … TBC

Summary: After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

warnings: talks of cheating, abuse, angst, slight stockholm syndrome at a glance, anxiety, childhood trauma, parent problems; daddy issues, eventual smut, cursing, drinking, smoking, perviness, slight dub-con, miscommunications, blood mention

word count: idk? 1k?

June 12th, 1988 the roads were closed off.

I have no idea why im still together with this asshole, why am i so stupid? oh because id do anything for people to love and not leave me. Looking at him now..hands beating the steering wheel, veins popping through his temples..not to mention his breath. Ashton my oh so loving, narcissist, no good boyfriend. We've been together for 6 years, basically high school sweethearts. Went from flirty glaces, to lab partners, to collage students with an alcohol addiction. Mainly his addiction...he got me started on it.

Ashton basically took me in with his fatherly like protectiveness when we first got together. He was walking me to my front door after a bowling date he asked me out to my sophomore year, of course i said yes.; until the front door opened. Uh oh, dads home; Bill. The moment the door opened i watched my father tackle Ashton to the ground without so much as a reason screaming words like "get off my property, boys like you should be dead in a gutter, ill kill you"...

Lets just say that date night was a bit too eventful for my liking.

My dad always had a problem with Ashton because he went to highschool with his father. Ashtons dad was a bully back in the day, made my dads life a living hell.. took everything away from him. the girl, the looks, the job..

Dave, Ashtons father, was caught making out with Shannon, my dads ex lover but also first love. Dave knew he had the upper hand when it came to getting the things he wanted. Hell, Shannon seduced him into it. Shannon was only with my dad for the money. Got knocked up but gave him the baby and ran away to be with his dad. As you can see I am that baby now today.

I made a promise to Ashton after sneaking him to my bedroom window that same night cleaning his wounds; that it was me and him against the world. He knew about me and my parents relationship. How my step-mother only has good things to say about me in a room full of people, but how she degrades me behind closed doors. How my dads drinking problem gave him alcohol poisoning, twice' and about his anger problems. You'd think being in a household that is always loud would help you shape up to loud sounds in the future. Boy was that theory proven wrong.

anytime someone yells or raises their tone, you're immediately in fight or flight response. tense..anxious. You hate going to basketball games just for that reason. Its uncomfortable.. and he knew that, but apparently in this moment, he didn't give a fuck-

"Did you hear me??" Ashton says impatiently. "No im sorry, i cant hear when you mumble.." you reply

you also hated when people uttered things under their breath.

dad does that shit.

"Don't be smart with me y/n, ill leave you right here,right now in the middle of the fucking road

"Yeah whatever Ashton, just stop talking to me and drive" feeling the breaks pull forward and in a flash he was out of the drivers seat, and already pulling you out of the passenger-

"WHAT THE FUCK" i yell- what the fuck are you doing Ashton?”

“Shut up!” he smacks me. Your eyes widen in more shock than fear over anything. “Did you j-just hit me?” i ask with a scratched voice--

“I told you more than once not to back talk me didnt i?”

“i didn’t.. it was once and i stopped ashton”-

-“You’ve done it all goddamn night, accusing me of cheating, clinging onto me when i ran into Tommy, i told you to give me some fucking space --i interrupt him.

“YOU did cheat on me you asshole!! That bitch was fucking bragging about it in the bathroom”—

“Do you really think after what 4 years-“6 actually“ i say pissing him off further. he looks at you angrily

He sighs. “Do you really think after years of being together, i would do that to you?” he say looking down at the ground sadly; making you instatly regret your words

“..no-no of course not i just thou”-

-“You thought wrong! he snaps-I would never do that to you baby..y/n?” he says letting go of the grip on my arms, caressing my cheek-“..I know you get a little confused sometimes, its okay come here” he says pulling you into a deep hug

“..im sorry ash”-

“shh” he coos.

“I really thought—what the fuck is that?” you shove him away

“Y-you piece of shit!!” you pull around back collar piece of his shirt up to his face; showing him the peach colored lipstick stain

“Are you fucking serious Ashton?” his eyes widen and stomach drops when he sees the prominent evidence of his past events—

“B-baby look-“

“No! fuck you were done!”

He grabs me closer, “No we fucking arent- ive gave you everything! he starts shouting making you flinch

P-please stop yelling at me! you plea tears rolling down your face

“Just—here” he opens the car door “just get back in and ill explain on the way”—

“No.” you shove past him running and crying

“Y/N come back here!. its too dark—

“ i dont care leave me alone!”

“Y/n theres crazy people out here..!”

you stop in your tracks, turning back to say- “You’re the crazy person!”

he laughs. “Oh im crazy? Ill show you fuckin crazy”—he says marching over to the drivers side of the car starting it back up—mumbling ill show you a fucking crazy person babe—and he spees off

you cant believe he actually just left you.. standing here.

“ASSHOLE!” you shout regulardess if hes still there or not, turning back around to walk down the cold empty road

are you fuckig kidding me?

wow he fooled me

how didnt i see this before

did he love me?

he says he does

then why did he leave me..

fucking jerk!!

The long 7 mile walk with a head full of shitty thoughts walk you to a sun burnt orange barn.

you're exhausted. your hearts broken. your feet hurt. its too dark to keep walking

"I mean i could crash here right?" you say already walking towards the musky building

hay bells, chickens, tools. looks already owned

you dont care you just need a place to rest you head for a bit.

stinks in here. muttering to yourself, opening and shutting the barn door behind you.

perfect you say spotting an old rocking chair..and yard sale signs?

does somebody live here?

you're too exhausted to think any more tonight

this'll do. taking your jacket off to use as a prop pillow, climbing into the chair almost immediately drifting off.

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

whats that smell? smells like bacon?

bacon? your eyes are still shut but you can sense a different environment around you. Fluttering your eyes open.. a clock? pictures? what?-jumping up at the sound of a shoe

"WHO ARE YOU?" your already in flight or fight mode

"Whoa whoa its okay, im the owner of the barn i found you in”.

is he lying?

"YOU'RE LYING!" you look around in a panic

"Sweetheart if i was lying, how come i specifically found you in my rocking chair, you must of been tired, i got my buddy who also runs the farm to scoop you up and bring you to our guest bedroom, couldn't just leave a woman out in the open like that.. especially at night"

your stomach knots when he calls you sweetheart.

okay maybe he harmless, just very kindly harmless?

"Here" he throws his arm out, "I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."

- - is this interesting so far? lmk- -

reblogs appreciated:>

[twostepstyless]

Okay bestie nel @lonelycowgirls got me inspired. Like her I’ve had 7 months of fun and living my best life and also a lot of change of leaving a job and starting a new one (which as an aside I’ve officially passed my probationary period, ya girlies employed employed in something she genuinely loves and wants to do) so I need to come back to myself and I’ve currently got the feeling that I’m not spending my time away from work as well as I could be. So here’s some goals and a lot of waffle to go alongside them for the next 5 months for me to shoot for!

1. Do some conscious, meaningful movement every day, whether that’s a hot girl walk, the slow running club I’m doing with some of my girlies, a swim, a class, cycle, yoga flow, a fucking skipping rope, anything, just meaningful movement. I’ve went from a fairly active job to a mostly inactive role and I am feeling the difference.

2. Stop dipping into my savings. My savings are in a fairly healthy manner and I’m good with my income but I’m getting awfully good at dipping a quick wee 30 quid here and another wee 50 quid there and I’m not helping myself by doing that.

3. Be creative for me again. I’ve been in the trenches of the most horrendous creative block I’ve suffered through since I finished art school during covid. By the end of the year I’d like to have done a few things just to feel that spark again. Those include but not limited or restricted to, finishing at least one painting, do at least one of the embroidery projects I want to do, write something for here?? I’m not even overly arsed about what I’m doing or the final outcome really, I just need to do something with my hands that isn’t for my job.

4. Develop more meaningful connections. This doesn’t have to be romantic, but fuck me I need to talk to more people or develop my relationships with the people I do talk to just now.

5. Get back into language learning. I have been trying to learn Italian well since I was probably about 16, I’m now 27 swiftly approaching 28 and I’m still not overly thrilled with my progress but I bloody enjoy doing it so why can’t I just commit to it. My relationship with Duolingo is frosty right now and I’d like to thaw that out!

6. Be consistent with what I’m putting in my body. Food is a hard topic for a lot of people myself included but I know I need to be more consistent with what I’m putting in my body. I hate the term cheat day but it’s the only phrase I can think of that describes the situation. I’m not a person who can have a “cheat day” because it spirals into cheat week cheat month cheat multiple months and then I just get fucked off with myself. I’m team “everything in moderation” but I need to get better at balancing the moderation bit. I don’t even mean only food as being consistent with what I’m putting in my body either. My water intake while I’m at work is 10/10 I knock that shit out of the park, the second I come home and over the weekend, you’d think I’d have never heard of water and then I feel shite cause I’ve actively dehydrated myself, so I’m actively trying to sort that out.

7. This one is so stupid lmao but I think there’s a lot of value in seemingly simple or easy goals to tick off. Get a new hairdresser. My current one loudly complains about cutting my hair because it’s so long and like girlie I’m paying you? So I’m over that and I want someone fresh to let at my locks

8. And the big one that’s been a goal all year but I’ve just not conquered yet. I’d like to make moves to conquer my driving anxiety. I feel like I’ve spoke about this briefly in the past. I am a good driver and I’m confident driving places I know. However, I am terrified of going anywhere outside that. It takes a lot of pushing myself to get on the motorway and once I’m on the motorway I’m fine. It’s coming off and going somewhere new where I don’t know exits etc or all of it really and I know in my heart of hearts I’ll be fine and can figure it out but I just can’t get myself over the fear to actively do it. So I’d love to make some good progress to tackle that before the year is up.

[brandstifter-sys]

Secrets Don't Make Boyfriends

@dukexietyweek 2024 - Day 2 - Swap + Secrets

Word count: 1347 (Ao3)

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, Virgil

Pairing: Dukexiety

Warnings: sex mention, mild horror, Anxiety!Remus, Dark Creativity!Virgil

Remus is anxiety, and he is stressed from everything, but especially an intrusive spider who's hiding something from him. Secrets don't make friends, or boyfriends!

---

It wasn't easy being anxiety. Remus could tell you that much. He hated worrying over the littlest things—like his deceptive brother lying himself into a corner, or Janus torching his own ego with his failed ideas. He didn't have to worry about Logic’s puns, or Morality’s long winded tangents, unless they did something stupid. But there was one person who drove him up a wall with worry—the Magician. 

Remus couldn't even count the number of times that bastard wormed his way into the conversation, how many times he cornered the mustachioed punk and tormented him for fun. Especially since he revealed himself to Thomas. If Remus couldn't tell that he was hiding something, he would have shut that bastard up with his mouth. Several times. 

It had been a stressful day of phone calls and work for Thomas, and Remus was feeling it. He was in the Imagination on Janus' side, taking out his frustrations in the gym Janus made for him after he was accepted. It was good to have a Creativity on his side. There was nothing better than exercise to channel the adrenaline. 

With his music blasting, Remus went to town on his favorite punching bag. He was in the zone, hands taped and slamming into the fabric with precision and force. He was bouncing on his feet, ready to strike anyone who got too close, not that anyone with sense would. They knew not to mess with someone in cargo shorts and chucks with a mean right hook. 

Well, most of them knew not to mess with him. 

As soon as “Five Cellars Below” started playing, a chill ran down Remus' spine. The shadows in the corners of his vision were suddenly darker, seemingly skittering away from him. 

Fan-fucking-tastic

He was on alert. 

Great. He was trying to get the anxious feelings out, not build them up! 

His fists met the bag with even more vigor. If that bastard was really there, he would jumpscare his way into the room. Remus was never ready for that!

BAM

Remus shrieked as a bloody face jumped out at him from the punching bag. He fell on his ass and then his back hit the floor. Of all the bullshit ways to scare him, that was the cheapest shot possible! 

He grumbled to himself and squeezed his eyes shut, just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. 

“You know, you're pretty cute from this angle,” a cool voice purred. Remus immediately opened his eyes, just to come face to face with a menace. 

Virgil had him pinned down, with one hand running up his shirt. The smug bastard was smirking at him like he just captured the perfect prey. 

“Virgil!” Remus snapped and pushed him back. He got up before Virgil could complain. 

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me! You already gave me extra work to do—do you want me to have a heart attack?!” Remus huffed and dusted off his clothes. At least his Sum 41 shirt was still intact. 

“I like making your heart race,” Virgil said and got up. Remus hated that no matter what he did, Virgil could still look hot as hell. Maybe it was just the fact that he only had an open leather vest and shamelessly tight pants that made him look like a manwhore. 

“Find someone else to torment. Someone who isn't keeping Thomas from doing all the bullshit you keep suggesting!” 

“You know I have to go after the person blocking me left and right, Remus,” Virgil said, with a laugh. 

“It's part of the job description. We both know that,” Remus said and stretched his arms behind his back.

“You’re avoiding me,” Virgil said flatly. 

“Yeah, I don't really need my anxiety going nuts. You're hiding something from me and it's driving me nuts,” Remus grunted and stretched one arm across his chest. 

“If that were it, you would've avoided me before,” Virgil huffed and neared Remus menacingly. Remus swallowed thickly and backed away, at least until a wall got in the way. 

“Virgil—” Remus gawked as Virgil loomed over him. He was so close, so easy to shove aside. Remus couldn't bring himself to do anything. 

“Did those puffballs brainwash you?” Virgil growled and grabbed his jaw, “Or maybe you realized that you hate me just like everyone else.” 

“They didn't do anything, and I don't hate you,” Remus breathed, staring into those sad, tired eyes. For the first time in a long time, he could see how much Virgil was hurting. 

“Then why?” Virgil asked with tears brimming in his eyes. 

“Because you're close with Roman and I had to get away from him,” Remus responded and grabbed Virgil's wrist, “You know he would be happy to get me killed!” 

“He's a mean, lying bastard, but he's all I have. He's the only one who puts up with me anymore,” Virgil snarled before his voice dropped to a whisper, “I miss you.” 

“Virge, let go—” 

“I can't! I can't let you go! I tried to move on, but I still want you! I would be fine with being friends but you don't even want that—” 

“Virgil!” Remus said firmly, “Let go of my face!” 

Virgil stumbled back and freed his jaw. He said too much and Remus would hate him for real! 

Remus reached out and cupped Virgil's cheek. He was more concerned about the intrusive thot’s feelings than scared of his crush. Virgil leaned into the touch and averted his gaze, giving Remus a chance to breathe easy. 

“Virge, you okay?” 

“I know I'm a lot to handle, but I don't want you to hate me too. You're the only one who's ever genuinely nice to me, even if you don't like me,” Virgil grumbled. 

“I don't hate you,” Remus said softly, “If I knew that you felt like this, I would have done something sooner.” 

“Done what?” 

“Something,” Remus jeered and wiggled his mustache. 

“Being vague just gives me more opportunities to ruin things,” Virgil pouted. And then his eye twitched and his eyeshadow got darker. Oopsie! 

Remus giggled and leaned in so that their lips were brushing. His heart was hammering in his chest and he wanted to close the gap. But he would wait for Virgil to finish the job. 

Virgil grabbed his hair and kissed him like Remus would vanish if he didn't. Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil and pulled him closer, kissing back with far more passion than he thought possible. 

“Remus,” Virgil muttered when they pulled apart, “Am I dreaming again?” 

“That never happens,” Remus sighed, “Don't you only have nightmares?” 

“No, sometimes I have wet dreams,” Virgil shrugged, “and sometimes they're vanilla. But they always have you in them.” 

“Are you saying you have a crush on me? That's what you've been hiding for years? That's what was keeping me up at night?” 

“Yeah. I thought it would scare you away,” Virgil admitted shyly, “You get scared easily.”

“Of all the stupid shit,” Remus huffed and tackled him to the floor, “You really thought keeping it a secret wouldn't scare me?” 

“It might scare you less than the truth,” Virgil pouted up at him. 

“If you hate when I'm vague, don't you think I'd hate knowing you're hiding something?” Remus scoffed, “You're making it up to me, you jerkface!” 

“How? It takes forever to get out of these pants,” Virgil jeered and grabbed his butt with both hands. 

Remus barked out a laugh and shook his head. 

“You don't need to do that. You could just spar with me for an hour. Everyday.” 

“What if I just danced with you instead?” Virgil teased and gave his cute little butt a squeeze. 

“I don't think so, Spidey. I know what dancing means and I don't need an hour of that daily!” 

“You're right. It would take more than an hour. Maybe even all night,” Virgil jeered. 

“Take me on a date first, and we'll see,” Remus snickered. And then he kissed that sly spider again before he lost his nerve.

[ferretzdiary]

Saying I love you to my parents feels so weird. It’s not that I don’t love them- it’s complicated really. I kind of hate them too. They aren’t exactly good people, but they aren’t exactly bad either?

It’s weird to say I love you to people who don’t actually love you. They love the idea of you, what they want of you and expect, and feel the need to love you because you’re their dna, but they don’t love you as you. Other than being white as paper, I’m nearly everything they hate. I’m queer, I’m trans, I’m autistic, I’m alt, I’m a punk, I hate things they worship, I’m a witch, etc. list keeps going.

They don’t like my personality. Over the years I’ve learned I get in trouble with them less if I dull myself down, if everything including my emotions are concealed. This is very difficult for someone who’s autistic, has depression, ptsd, and anxiety that affects my heart; but I have to bottle it of fear if it’s the wrong emotion I’ll get in trouble. Specifically negative ones. Negative ones are usually met with yelling, belittling, scolding, etc. anger. I literally have gotten in trouble for being on high suicide risk. I can’t help that. I wasn’t even honest on most of the questions at the damn hospital because I’m scared of them. When they find out I’m harming myself they get mad at me because I have no reason to be sad, scolding me about how good I have it. I know my life is better than a lot of peoples but that doesn’t make everything magically go away. I don’t understand why they think it does.

Not to mention they’re aware I was raped and beat by my cousin for years. They don’t care, when they found out they said and did nothing, he’s still the family favorite, and the cherry on top is life is going way better for him. He’s got a sweet girlfriend, an apartment, a good paying job, everything. I can’t even get my damn license bc for some reason I’m terrified of cars.

Back to being a faggot; when I was outed (not consensual, I begged not to be because I knew what was to come, I was already struggling to understand what was going on with myself and condemning myself) I came home to being told I’d be hung on our Barb wire fence with allll the other queers if I didn’t by my father (I had just started middle school). No exaggeration. They still tell me I can tell them anything and they don’t care but continue to spit threats, slurs and whatever the fuck else towards the lgbt, a lot of the time it feels aimed at me wether they mean it or not.

I literally have struggled to keep myself together while my heart was giving me trouble because I was so damn terrified they’d be pissed. Unfortunately this is a common occurrence because I literally Tweek out just being in a damn Walmart half the time.

I don’t have friends outside of my phone, the one irl friend I got to see moved to NY, my other one I just never see and is always sick, and everyone else is online. I’d make friends, but my parents kinda prevent that too bc I don’t want them bitching because someone looks a certain way or isn’t white. I literally avoided a black girl I wanted to be friends with because I knew she wouldn’t be safe as my friend. Not to mention I work at my dad’s food truck and other than my house and grandmas that’s all I ever go, I work full time, so how am I meant to even make friends? I’m so isolated, I’m as isolated as I was when my cousin beat me if I talked to other kids, hell I might be MORE isolated now. I’m in a tight box!!

And I’m trapped. I can’t drive, I can hardly cook, I can hardly take care of myself at all, I’m stupid as hell, need help to get through college, etc. I’m stuck. I can’t take this anymore. It’s so fucking hard not to attempt again but I don’t want to let mfs win, I want to survive for my friends, my grandma, and so I can have a future where I die as myself not the stranger I see in the mirror. My self harm has been so bad lately, I keep blanking out and relapsing, I have no one to go to. I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what to do. I almost wish I could go back to the hospital and dump everything but I’m turning twenty, what can they fuckin do? Not to mention how badly I want to get my bachelors and become a zoologist, I can’t loose my college opportunity.

[weabooweedwitch]

I say this as someone who's followed you for years and with as much kindness as possible:

Get the fuck away from your mother. Ditch her fuckin ass. She's repeatedly making things worse and refuses to learn. You need to get away from her, for your own good.

I know I might be repeating what other people have said, or even what you have thought of doing, but holy shit this bitch is actively ruining your life through sheer stupidity.

I hope things get better

I feel bad that people have to keep giving me this kind of advice because I realize it's the most obvious answer, and there are multiple reasons separating from my mother would be good for us both. I feel bad that i keep sharing all these worrying stories and worrying people and then at the end of the day, I'm way too scared to actually try and fix things. I just worry so much about not being able to take care of myself, not being able to drive, what if I go somewhere and it's harder if not impossible for me to get to work, just. I worry about everything. Honestly the thing that worries me the most is keeping my job or not being able to transfer if I went somewhere else. My wage is currently $19 an hour, my 58 yo mom was making $22, so like, I'm helping hold it all together with rent BECAUSE of that income. I'm so scared of losing that.

I've had people ask if there's any family I can go to and the only possible option would be maybe my father who is in another state, I cannot remember if it is in Illinois or Missouri (ugh, they may have passed recreational weed but thats the only good thing thats came outta thar state in like the last 2 decades). And I don't know if that would be good either. But it's an option I'm beginning to consider. But I am sort of still in the reconnecting process with my dad and we've butted heads a few times and he also has his own physical and emotional issues. Actually I think he is where I inherited a lot of mental illness from because he also has an anxiety disorder and we are almost positive he has equinus like me. He also has developed type 2 diabetes and I am really bad with sugar impulse control, what if I hurt my dad because I can't stop bringing sweets into the house and he eats them too 🥺

It just. Personally makes me hate myself to even think of "hiya pops, we've barely spoken in the last 10 years, I've been really ahitty about talking to you consistently since we've said hi again and lost my temper with you a few times, hey I know you're on a fixed income and out of a job right now (or was, maybe he has one now, we've spoken so little idk) but is it OK if I come live in your house as a whiny codependent barely functioning weed addict of an adult?" 😅

But yeah I just. This is really. It just never ends. I keep fighting myself and beating myself up on "who's right, am I right, am I wrong, am I overreacting, whats going on, what do I do, someone tell me what to do because I'm too stupid to do things right" and it's just. I also still love my mother even if that love is being increasingly mixed with resentment. I worry about her ability to take care of herself because her health is getting worse and, like, I worry about her mentally a lot. Like this tooth infection she has, is because she doesn't have the best dental hygiene, and had fillings and such, and even after needing fillings still takes shit care of her teeth, and was putting off getting like broken teeth and such taken care of, and, they're now having to pull SEVEN of her back teeth. She'll need dentures to eat certain foods now. And I'm not better, I basically stopped brushing my teeth for many years because I literally expected to be dead before they rotted out of my mouth and now I'm scrambling to adopt that routine again, and also like.

Sorry but my mom and a dentist literally lied to me when i was a little girl and said i had several cavities because they thought i would be scared into brushing my teeth and all that did was convince me everything was pointless and needed to give up since it was already damaged, and she refuses to apologize or even acknowledge how that literally helped me develop a complex and felt helpless when SHE LIED TO ME, A CHILD, HER CHILD (and also i think my difficulty keeping routines is a combination just needing to apply myself and having adhd issue because like, I've been pretty good with my skincare at least)

I just. I love her but I hate her. If I'm not careful to keep myself calm I'm going to escalate to the physical level. And to be honest I've had the opinion for many years that, all those times my mom told extremely age inappropriate stories to little tiny baby Miranda about her experiences with assault and domestic violence, even as a kid I would think, "well you like don't listen, you shut people down, you insist youre always right, I want to hit you all the time too, maybe it wasn't them but maybe you got yourself hit by constantly pushing everyone around you to their breaking point" like clearly that's not a healthy thought to have and I. I am kind of convinced at this point that almost every single bad thing that had ever happened to this woman was her own fault in some way shape or form. But you could also say that about me

What's scary is that I can't even think of going anywhere without having savings first and I'm constantly being pushed to my limits to the point I don't HAVE any savings, it's all getting sucked up. I dunno how else I can get out of this pit and I'm just, mentally worn down from any entire life of this. I feel useless and exploited at home and then I go to work and feel useless and exploited at work and by society. Like. Life feels so bleak. My Canadian friend is getting in worse health. I still have a lot of affection for him but he's also uh done and said a few things I really disagree with on personal levels and it, gives me some pause, like. I genuinely am so sad all the time. I need to go back to the psychiatrist to get some medicines again but, I am working and making enough money that after my state insurance expires in October, I'll have to go through my work, and that doesn't 100% cover everything so, j wouldn't be able to afford anything at that point

Just. Ugh. I try to write down my thoughts and listen to music and try to write on my other blog to cheer myself up but I just. What can you do right. What am I good for. What is anyone good for. What is this world itself good for. Our entire species is gonna go extinct with climate change anyways. Why should I keep struggling and suffering like this when it's. Idk. Arguably all for nothing. We'll all be nothing more than just dogs following commands and paying bills until we die

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

yknow, I really HATE the snide comments on posts about older learner or P plate drivers, here in aus, when they get into accident by simple error. like the other day, I saw a news story about a P plater who accidentally flipped their car onto its roof, while trying to practice parking at a busy beach (bc it was during a hot day).

however, no one had any like empathy or sympathy for the person, who was 30, apparently. "oh. they're a 30 YEAR OLD P PLATER????? that says it ALL doesn't it??? maybe don't be a deadbeat and get your licence earlier???" and "who can't park at a busy beach during a hot day???? did they NOT learn how to park at all during driving lessons??? take their licence away, they don't deserve to drive ever again!!!!" or "who the hell is a P plater AT 30??? get with the times and get your licence as a teen like a normal person!!!! so you're NOT a burden to everyone else!!!"

like im still to read the article. but I feel so much for this person. I only got my Ps in 2019.... at 23/24. I only got off my Ps last november (2022), at 27. I've talked on many posts about my struggles around getting my licence (ie too much anxiety and depression in 2011 and late high school- the perceived "only right time"- to go for my Ls and Ps) and troubles with driving teachers and uni and me having to pay for ALL of my lessons out of own pocket.... and also my parent never wanting to teach me.... bc I was too anxious for them as well, so you might as well just push all off on a driving school anyway.

so yeah me getting my licence was a fucking mess. I HATED myself for getting it so late etc etc. but even on my full licence, earlier this year, i made a stupid asf error right before I left my old job.

basically, a week before I left that job, I had a MASSIVE crash in my works private parking lot. I went up the ramp to the upper level for shade, bc it was a hot day and my car would be cooler at the end of the day (not by much, obvs, but a bit) than me parking on the bottom floor, away from everyone in the sun).... I accidentally scraped on side of my car on one of the concrete pillars. I panicked, stupidly really. what's a little dent on my car??? lmao. anyway. I reversed out of those pillars, trying to fix the position of my car. however, in doing that, I accidentally pressed the accelerator and went zooming (low speed but downhill, terrible combination) down the ramp, and smashed my entire back window, boot (trunk, for americans) and a bit of the right side panel of my car (which the repairs were kind enough to replace the entirety of actually).... also they had to bc thag entire back tyre was ripped off. my exhaust was leaking too.

obvs my old work sent me home that day (thank FUCK) , and I had a hire car through my insurance for nearly 3 months. I got landed with an extra $400 excess for being an "inexperienced driver" bc I'd only had my full licence for 5 months at that point, instead of 2 years. but it's just that easy to make a dumb fuckup mistake.

and no, when it came to learning how to park with both my parent and the driving school.... I didn't get much time learn. I did like 10 mins in one lesson with the driving school on actual parking in a parking lot.... bc that shit didn't matter in the P plate test... only the stupid asf kerb side reverse park (or whatever the fuck it's called) got assessed in the test.... and I fucking resented that SO MUCH.... bc it's the part I ALWAYS forgot the steps to and always did in like 20 steps, instead of the required 3 to 5. the end of test parking in the spot at service nsw (ie the dmv in my state of aus) doesn't get marked.

my parent just straight up refused to teach me parking (and pretty esp the curb side tbh). instead, they tried to tell me that middle-aged american and canadian men (most usually... and none of them were driving instructors- just randos) with go pros were a better resource to learn parking from.... when like THEY DRIVE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD TO AUSTRALIA????? "all you have to do is watch that video before we go put to practice and swap it around in your head??? it's that easy!" no it's not???? how the fuck am I meant to reverse the direction in my head???? it literally makes fuck all sense.

moreover, I feel like it's just australia's laziness on having resources for learner drivers. like not one aussie driving school, while I was trying to get my licence, had instructional videos on how to do a reverse park, how to park normally, and how to do parallels parking. there was ONE British guy. ONE. and not even from australia. everything else was flooded by americans and canadians. like guys, I like you. but trying to learn how to park from Brad in a Walmart parking lot in Texas or mark in Omaha in a walgreens parking lot.... or Tommy from Saskatchewan or Ben from Ontario, both videos from a Tim Horton's parking lot (sorry, it's the only canadian brand that I know lol).... who are all driving and parking from the right side of the road.... DOES NOT help a very confused and anxious learner driver in AUSTRALIA who DRIVES ON THE LEFT, with learning how to park safely or well. under stress, or just even normally for me, it was IMPOSSIBLE to swap the direction around mentally, as I was actively trying to learn to park.

but my point is, the age of the P plate driver has NOTHING to do with the fact that they accidentally flipped their car while trying to park in a stressful situation. they weren't lazy or a burden for getting their licence late. the situation i crashed my car in wasn't even stressful... I was just an anxious, almost sleepless mess at that old job. I accidentally freaked myself out by slightly scratching my car bc I have shit parking and direction skills in that particular parking lot.

my age, 27, and the person in the news story's age, 30 HAS NOTHING TO DO with driving ability and apparently "needing their licence taken off them." I was practically forced to get my licence and buy my car (eventually) to be better considered for jobs.... since NO ONE wants to hire someone without a car and licence these days. like I was so lucky my old job was right across from a bus stop and that they hired me using the bus.

every other place I tried basically automatically tossed me out in the application stage, when I dared to answer "I use public transport" or "I don't have access to my own vehicle." even though HR at my old work kept telling me that employers can't assess or discriminate against that. but they do, ashley, they do. and I KNOW... esp since I've always been interested in doing events. and doing events work is IMPOSSIBLE without a car due to wack ass hours. also, I actively got denied a marketing internship in business college in 2014. all bc the bus took an hour and a half, instead of 25 to 30 mins by car. so don't you dare tell me that workplaces don't discriminate towards lack of transportation (even if they can't say it directly to the applicant) bc some places definitely do.

so I imagine that the above, and the other obstacles I've mentioned in this post, are what probably led to this 30 year P plater getting their licence so late (unless of course they got downgraded bc they had road offences.... but idk bc I still haven't actually read the article lol). but assuming the best of the person in the story, it was an honest, anxious mistake to flip their car while trying to park that day at that beach... like, okay. it's obvs not a small mistake; bc they did flip their goddamned car upside down....

but in stress, you can make stupid ass mistakes, just like I did in march..... and imo that doesn't call for someone to LOSE THEIR LICENCE and be thoroughly condescended to.... all bc some fucking asshole on the internet is all fucking rude about "OH A 30 YO P PLATER???? THAT SAYS IT ALL!!!! they were too lazy to do this important thing YEARS AGO as a teenager, and now they're making our roads unsafe with this!!!! rescind their licence now!!! they're entirely unfit to drive! or at least go back to driving school, darling. so maybe you'll remember your mistakes of safety!!!"

like, brenda or quincey. I highly doubt you've NEVER made a mistake while driving??? or accidentally hit someone???? or maybe you'd be like the middle aged lady I accidentally hit back in july, who tried to force me to stand in a busy local highway intersection FOR AN HOUR ON THE PHONE witb my insurance to report.... so she had PHYSICAL PROOF that I'd done it... bc she was thoroughly convinced that I was lying that I had insurance bc (A.) I dont have an insurance card like she dod.... bc im sure that's a legacy thing, and I've only had my car for a year, so that meant to her that I was a LIAR.... and (B.) I'm young, so then that automatically means that I'm a liar and will never report to insurance that I'd fucked up.... then this woman had the gall to report the incident 3 DAYS LATER (I'm assuming).... after INSISTING I had to do it instantly in front of HER EYES only for truthful reporting all while saying "you BETTER get this FIXED for ME bc my husband has just died".

like thanks, geraldine. but at this point, I don't fucking care about your dead husband. just let me report this accident in peace AT HOME AWAY from you, breathing down my neck saying every 2 seconds that "young people ALWAYS lie to me... so YOU'RE A LIAR and will dupe me out of my deserved repairs. repair it FOR ME NOW! YOU BETTER DO IT WHILE I WATCH, OR YOU WILL RUN OFF ON ME!! I KNOW THIS!!!!" but anyway. I digress. my point is that the people commenting on age sound exactly this rude ass woman, insisting that the older age of the P plater in this story has everything to do with the accident, and NOTHING to do with stress and anxiety around driving.

like ok. I'll admit picking a busy time to practice parking, probs isn't the best decision. but also. if you don't practice parking at busy times EVER, you're just never going to go anywhere during peak busy periods of the day.... much like I do. I never go to the beach in summer bc I hate jockeying for spots. I wait til like 4 to 6 pm to go do some shopping bc then I have less chance of accidentally hitting someone (a car obvs) while backing out.... and am more likely to have an empty spot to drive straight into.

I purposely pick the emptier outside parking lot at one particular local shopping centre, all bc I know if I park like shit (ie accidentally park over half into another spot) I can just leave it like that, bc I have fuck all idea of how to correct it tbh. as long as no one parks RIGHT NEXT TO ME, I'm fine lmao. and that's a problem in summer, when it's like 45⁰C (like 100+⁰F).... so I should really try to park in the overly busy undercover parking, for respite, when i get back to my car. I actively avoid ever driving to sydney bc of this as well. I'll never be able to handle sydney suburbia driving.... let alone the whole ass different beast that is CBD sydney driving is (lol im driving straight into the harbour to avoid any type of city parking and parking fees etc).

anyway yeah. I just wish people had more empathy and sympathy these days when people have a kinda dumb accident like this..... instead of instantly calling for the person to lose their licence.... and also insisting that its all to do with someone getting their licence much later than the perceived "correct and proper" time of 16 to 19.

[maerenee930]

random thoughts.

kinda like venting/mostly just getting some thoughts and feelings out that have been bothering me lately 😣

i do talk a lot about anxiety, btw! and i mention panic attacks and i talk about my depression. just wanted to give a heads up incase anyone does actually end up reading this rambling nonsense lol.

ooh, i also do swear quite a bit.

my anxiety is so unbelievably high 😖 like holy fuck!!

i feel like i’m actually crazy 😞😭

i mean like between my new job and just my generalized anxiety and some other things, i just feel like a damn mess lol.

but like for real though 😓

my anxiety keeps making my chest tight regularly.

during work, when i’m on my way home from work and when i get home. i’ll just be trying to breathe and relax and my anxiety says “NOPE!!” and makes me feel so very close to having a panic attack.

i feel so fucking stupid 😭

i feel so goddamn fucking dumb for letting my anxiety get the better of me. and because it’s happening regularly/so often! it’s like just fucking get your shit together for fucks sake!

and then because my anxiety has been so bad/getting worse, it’s starting to mess with my depression and making it worse and i just wanna run away and need a break from my brain 😭

i do like my new job, btw! like i do. it’s just so different and not like anything i’ve done before and it’s really far out of my comfort zone so it’s just still an adjustment, you know? 😣

and what’s not helping my anxiety at all is that after this week, i’m not gonna be with the person who’s been training me. they’re moving to another department 😣

and i’m very happy for them! i mean they’re going to somewhere they’ve wanted to be for a while now so that’s so awesome for them! i just have gotten so used to like being with them or having them by me and i’m not ready to not have them by me, watching over what i’m doing or reassuring me/reminding me that what i’m doing is correct and i’m doing everything in order or right.

i’m not ready to like not have them there right by me and can remind me what step comes next or help me when i’m still very unsure of myself 😓

but at the same time, it will be kinda nice to not have someone watching over my shoulder 😅 i mean i will have someone watching over my shoulder next monday cause one of my supervisors will be with me and helping me out cause monday specifically is supposed to be pretty busy, but then after that i’m on my own.

i’m very fucking terrified, extremely nervous, and kinda excited to be on my own. i just really wish i wasn’t on the front line 😅 i don’t like it, like at all lmao! i much prefer being in the back/in the drive thru lol! but all next month i’m scheduled to be on the front line 🙃 i’m really not looking forward to it 😣😓 but hopefully my supervisor will schedule me to be in the drive through more soon 😅

i have so much more i want to say, but my head is all over the place right now and i feel like i can’t focus on each of the thoughts long enough to get them out. if that makes sense? so maybe i’ll add more to this later or i’ll make a new post. idk lol.

fuck i feel like i’m gonna have a panic attack 😖😭

i really fucking hate this feeling 😭😭

[buck-yyyy]

i just looked at myself in the mirror and realized that. like. i’m not a little kid anymore.

and that seems like such a stupid realization, but i was just staring at myself and thinking about the fact that i look my age. my face looks older, slightly less soft. my hair has grown out from when i cut it short between freshman and sophomore year. my body isn’t that of a little kid’s anymore.

and i guess just that realization alongside how i was thinking about how all my friends have grown up so much faster than me just slapped me in the face that i’ve grown up a lot too. like yeah- they’re still growing up faster, and i still feel left behind in the dust in favor of “maturity”. but god, i really have grown up too, haven’t i?

i’m so fucking different than the person i was two and a half years ago, or the person i was throughout my first couple years of high school. that kid was an anxious mess who could barely go out, in the beginnings of what would likely have become a really bad relationship, afraid to tell people no, would repeatedly refuse to join extracurriculars that would look good for college because she was so damn scared. now, i’m still anxious, but i’ve gotten past a lot of that anxiety. i have a plan for college, i’m doing things that look good on a college resume like clubs and sports and jobs and all that shit. i can drive, i’ve drank, i’ve become a little bit more open about who i am to other people. i’ve found out that i can stand up for myself against shitty people, whether it be teachers or friends. it’s just. it’s fucking wild.

i mean! my freshman year of high school, i was terrified to wear a rainbow bracelet to school, because what if people knew, what would they say, what would they do, what if i got hurt, what if what i’d what if. i was comfortable in my sexuality, but only with myself and with a select few friends. but now, i’m out to my parents, thinking about how id be okay with coming out to extended family. i don’t care if other people know i’m gay. i’m fully ready to stand up for myself if someone has a problem with it.

and like, that’s not to say that being closeted is a bad thing. safety comes first. but i’ve changed so, so much. my physical self, my outlook on life, my confidence in who i am, my thoughts on the future- all of that is so different from who i used to be.

the realization that you’re growing up is fucking weird. i hate it. i’m proud of myself but i still wish i could go back to the way it was.

[harleeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

my mom and i drove by my grandpa’s ranch today. my family and i used to drive there every fall and go fishing and watch the willy wonka with gene wilder.

we had our playlist on shuffle, and as we drove past, "it's your love" by tim mcgraw came on. my dad used to sing that to me when i was little to get me to sleep

i can never hear it without crying.

so we listened to it as we drove past the cabin. it looks so different and yet the same. i saw the fence i used to hop. the creek i lost my plastic fish that came with my disney princess fishing rod.

i felt so sad and bitter

i wanted to flip it off because i was so mad at him

because i loved it so much and now i can't go there because he's a jerk and we had to go low contact with him

and it's so crazy because i'm in high school and dad is retired. i always thought we would live there now.

and suddenly i was there. pink lasso, jeans and long blonde hair. and then i was back to now. i have great friends, i competed in a shakespeare competition, made so many new connections and memories, but i am still stuck in my hometown.

i cried like ten times just on the drive home

we revisited all the places we used to go when i was little- the cowboy store i bought my pink lasso and cow girl hat. i used to lasso my dog and he was so traumatized.

we drove past the burger place that always looked like diabetes but was sooo good. we tried to go to the ice cream and movie theatre spot, but it was closed and they took down the giant concrete ice cream cone. i suddenly felt all the time go by. why am i trying to grow up so fast? why do i have a list of colleges i want to go to and a list of jobs i want when i’m not even a senior in high school yet? i went through old photos of me. i was so pretty and happy for a while. then you know, life hits. i got anxiety and all that jazz. i did learn to cope though, and i’ve gotten so far.

three songs went through my head. “skinny” by billie eilish,

”but the old me is still me and maybe the real me and i think she’s pretty”

“love like you” from steven universe

”look at you go, i just adore you. i wish that i knew what makes you think i’m so special”

and “boy” by lee brice

“boy, you’re gonna hate this town, wish you could burn it down. that fire in your eyes is 20 counties wide but boy, you're gonna love 17 and boy, you'll do some stupid things you're gonna drive and kiss and throw a punch and grow up way too fast”

i wonder if she would think i’m pretty.

update i guess: my family was in the kitchen cooking for a little lunch thing with a couple friends and i am recovering from a cold so i was just in my room. my little sister came into my room and said, in a very goofy manner, “bad news, come to the kitchen for a ✨family meeting✨.” so i’m like damn okay probably just telling us to like make sure the house is clean or something. so i’m leaning against the kitchen counter while everyone is cooking and my dad finally finishes his task and says, “so i just got off the phone with grandpa.” shit what’s wrong? did he fall? is he dying? did ellie die?(a topic for another day) “he’s selling the cabin. he told me and it seems like basically a done deal.” fucking bastard. i have never held a deep resentment for a family member before except about little things, until now. i sat, trying not to cry. i didn’t say anything. what do i say? oh golly that sucks? ok? asshole? how do you respond to that? so i just stared, sipping my drink. my mom knows that would fuck me up and was like “you okay?” once i finally moved. i said yeah and left. i really really really resent him. my mom promised me that one day we’d go back there when we drove past it. but now, like my plastic fish, i doubt i’ll ever go back. how do we go forth from here? my dad’s truck has a sticker with the name of the ranch on it. i thought i was going to live there. i don’t know why i’m so upset, but god am i pissed

[star-ocean-peahen]

Christmas is a time for famil.............ial dysfunction!!

hahahahaha im the only person in this house who doesn't explode when upset hahahahahaha isnt it funny how that sounds like im a better person but i really just lash out quietly and sarcastically instead hahahahahaha and thats definitely worse because it's more insidious and hurts people when they have less of a chance to understand it hahahahahahaha

hahaha dad snapped at me for trying to protect my sibling from his forceful anxious rants and like yeah thats not the best way to go about the situation i see that now. its not going to work to tell him he's said enough because 1) he does not want to hear that 2) he does not want to hear that from me 3) hed never stop anyway because hes not ACTUALLY saying it for other people's benefit he's saying it because he doesn't believe emotional validation is a legitimate emotional need so he doesn't allow himself to have it so his anxieties have to come out somehow and this is how they do that and i cant really get down on him for that because i did it too!! when you dont have another outlet the anxieties will still come out but just in a non-constructive way!! of course whenever MINE did that he mocked me and made sure i knew EXACTLY how disgusting and cruel he thought i was being but BECAUSE of that i know how it feels and i dont want to do it to him!! the point is that i dont want anyone else to feel like i did and that includes the person who made me feel that way!! because he doesn't really deserve the grace and respect he never gave me but im going to try to give it to him anyway!! because thats the point of breaking the cycle!! but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my drive to protect my younger sibling is stronger in the moment than my drive to break the cycle and i dont know what to DO to do it the right way and i dont have to get it right esp when it isnt my job.................i just hate to see him saying things that hurt me so much to them...........

and its so fuckign. hard to remember that small humans have no better way of dealing with their emotions so they express them in non-constructive ways. because theyre being little rats.

and my mom is like the only one actually trying to make this celebration fun for everyone and she cant handle the emotional weight of everyone's problems on top of organizing the entire holiday for everyone. she can't do it. i watched her break down in the kitchen. shes doing better now but its not fair!! its not fair that this is happening to her!! its not fair that this is happening to us all!! its not fair that i had to be strong for her when i was repressing all of these feelings!! its not fucking fair that i love them so much!!

and im part of the problem!! i know that!! i make situations worse because im upset!! i tell my dad off for not deescalating when i suck at deescalating too!! im catty and petty and im definitely traumatizing my siblings in the way i was and thats eating me up inside!! i dont know how to do this better and i cant be expected to do this better but FUCK i hate it!!

i just. i wish my siblings could calm themselves down i wish my dad could successfully deescalate situations and not get into stupid arguments that he has to win to make up for his lack of consistent validation i wish my mom could stop yelling at my siblings i wish she could have enough support that she doesnt have to feel anxious i wish my family was NOT SO FUCKING DYSFUNCTIONAL.

its silly goofy but my anthem for when my dad makes me feel bad is the living tombstone song "i can't fix you" because it makes me feel better but its not just that i cant fix them i cant even HELP them. or even if i can i hurt more than i help. wanting to help doesnt translate to succeeding. fuck. i just. i just dont want anyone to feel like i did. but i make them feel that way more than i save them from it. fuck. do i have a thing about saving people. do i care more about feeling like i saved someone than actually being what they need. i dont fucking know.

[dude-iloveu]

i have got to like. chill out

whihch one of my impulsive thoughts (?) should i indulge. literally logging out and or deactivating all or some of my important social medias.

maybe finally get a job ???? get over the anxiety of driving and idk man. get experience. stop being so spoiled

to realize that i am living in my own head. in my own safe space and i should stop living in this stupid fantasy

its bad. ive become worse than i ever was. being kind to myself only led to me being a leeching useless idiot who does nothing with their life. at least with being like this i can constantly fuel my motivation with guilt that i havent done anything worthwhile in my life and should do better.

i dont know why i even bother writing this when in reality i would return to the same i was as always

whatever dini just do whatever your existance already is bad so just diam la hahahahhh i can't even articulate what i feel. all this started because i was tired. is 3am so i cannor trust these feeligs. but also i get reminded of how bad a friend i am and i dont want or can have any meaningful relationship. i jsut. idk. somethingabout how my childhood friends seemingly thunk i am still the same amd i havent changed which should be good but i hate that. how come they all have so much they achieve in their life. and that people can see it

i felt like i changed so much. im no longer that scared child i was. but i guess fucking not. ahh you havent changed. no fuck you too. none of my lomg time friendship actually mean anything then. whatever. i suck anyway. i havent replied to my friend who i call my best, who i would die for, what even am i saying now. hypocrite.

an old ex friend tried contacting me. i can't do it. there's a reason i stop talking with them. 5 years and I'm still stuck in the past. it's true then. i haven't changed.

aaaaah ya allahhh ya rabb ya allah aku tak tau la. apa aku buat ni. apa masalah aku. banyak. tapi. entahla. ya allah aku ni makhluk kau yang lemah. ya allah. aku ni....... ya allahhhhhh

this post is just proof i am still the weak scared child i thought i grew out of. worse thing is that child me was better. ive become worse over the years. i imagined dying at 18 and i should have.

why tf am i still writing. agh this sucks. i dont need comforting words or wnything i just need sleep. nothing makes sense about me and im writing to tumblr. any positive thinking or sympathy will just add morebto me feelingguilty of making peoplw waste their time on me because theyre nice people. i know that and yet. still.

[kornymaggotboi]

I'm gonna kill myself and it'll be Nintendo's fault... Again...

Nintendo, back at it again with making me want to die...

Since I've abandoned Luigi's Mansion because I still can't beat that goddamned boss battle, and Harvest Moon was getting kinda old, I started playing Pokemon Ultra Moon, and in the beginning, it was fun... But now i'm at the fire trial, and I haven't been able to beat it in days.

The battling system feels so unfair.

Like, it gives me the option to pick my attack, but then the Pokemon I'm battling against goes first and kills my Pokemon anyway, so why even let me choose my attack!?

Or whenever the Pokemon I'm battling is low on life, but then it restores it's own life, but then when I use a potion to restore my Pokemon's life, the Pokemon I'm battling drains it back to where it was.

Or the fact that other Pokemon can just, avoid my attacks, but I get completely obliterated by even the weakest attack, and then when I try to protect my Pokemon by increasing their defense and lowering the other Pokemon's defense, they get knocked out anyway because I guess I didn't believe hard enough or something.

DO YOU WANT ME TO HAVE FUN OR NOT!?

I know it's just a game and it's stupid to get this worked up over a game that really has no impact on my real life... Aside from my parents picking on me because I want to do things that decrease my crippling anxiety and depression, but that's besides the point... But I dunno, I have anger issues and I get pissed off over stupid shit... I'm not proud of it, like, at all, I hate being angry, that's my least favorite emotion, but I'm just saying.

Is there just, no video game that can lower my stress.

I know there's Animal Crossing and Harvest Moon, but as much as I adore those games, Animal Crossing especially, I often get bored playing those games for a long time, since there's not really a whole lot to do.

And I know someone will probably say I should read a book or go outside, but reading is hard for me, because I'm dyslexic, and I hate being outside... The light hurts my eyes, the wind hurts my ears, it's always too cold or too hot, no in between, the bugs bother me, and my skin always itches when I'm outside, so, I'm not going outside, no matter how much my parents nag me about it...

I obviously do other things to help with my stress like watch YouTube, play piano, take care of my cat and listen to music, but I just want something else to do, so that's why I started playing video games.

I also know that I'm an adult and should get a job, learn how to drive and move out of my parent's house, and I'm getting there, I just haven't been able to get a job because nobody will hire me, the thought of driving gives me anxiety, and I don't exactly have enough money to move out of my parent's house at the moment.

I know those sound like excuses, but they're not... And if someone fucking replies and tells me how lazy my generation is or whatever, I actually will fucking kill myself, because I'm fucking sick of strangers talking back to me when they don't fucking know me, and obviously, I understand that if I'm posting something in public, people have a right to respond to me, but I also have a right to respond to them when they're being dickholes, so fuck off...

I'm working with people to help me with that, but they're not very helpful.

I know this post is all over the place, but therapy isn't until tomorrow, and I only get an hour to vent to my therapist, and an hour isn't enough to get everything off my chest, and I have nobody else to talk to because I have no friends, and my parents would rather talk about how much they hate Joe Biden than to listen to my problems, so this is my only real source of venting, even if nobody reads this, I just want to get it out of my head so I can have room for more shit in this useless brain of mine...

[lastoneout]

OKAY EPISODE THREE:

Oh hell yeah immediately into the attic :D

GABE???? (stop making him funny!! I can't be mad at him he's just stupid!!)

Grover really is just...he's just the best.

$200 TO GET HIS ASS TO LA??? ARE YOU INSANE??? THAT'S NOT EVEN ENOUGH TO TAKE AN UBER TO THE AIRPORT???

Oh I feel so justified in liking red converse now I don't even care that I know what happens with those things.

Annabeth with the tree.....T_T

(Okay but yeah Tree on the Hill did it better sorry....but I'm assuming we are gonna get the gut punch later since Grover didn't explain HE was the protector.)

GROVER SINGING LETS GOOOOOOO AKDSJF;LKDJ

(Not as good as Drive but still lmao)

Not sure we needed the Grover voice-over to let us know that was def a monster.

Yeah the monsters still don't really feel like they're THERE ya know?

I do like that Percy keeps assuming you can just call the gods and have a chat.

Whoop there is it, Grover's the protector. Def didn't hit the way I would have liked it to.

Man y'all weren't kidding about the "knowing what's going on immediately" thing. Where's the tension?

Although I do like Medusa's church hat.

Man I don't want them to cut off this Medusa's head...

Okay ngl I'm digging the whole "the gods aren't that great actually" vibe, I hope they stick the landing on that.

Man I REALLY don't want them to kill this Medusa!!

Okay there's the tension >:D

Oh my god y'all weren't kidding about the lighting either I literally cannot see what's happening down in the national treasure ass basement.

Aw D: they still killed her

Oh lord Grover snapped.

Ain't no way these lil ADHD riddled kids remember that prophecy word for word lmao

I love that we're saying "fuck the gods" by sending them Medusa's head but it rings a little hollow given how Medusa's whole thing was "fuck the gods" and she got killed for it.

Though I guess her real crime was saying it's okay to betray your friends so whatever.

Ah....Mr. Manuel-Miranda...I've been expecting you.

Episode Four:

Sally has so much anxiety oh my god sldkjfldkjf

We are talking about Thalia SO much. Like...too much, maybe.

Annabeth you don't have to earn love....

Okay glad Percy is still calling out how bs all of this is.

Jesus christ Annabeth that's like 600 layers of trauma reasoning.

Grover really went "Nya!!"

Excuse me those Centaurs are supposed to be party animals!! Where are the glowsticks and solo cups!! They are not getting the enrichment they need!!!

Okay usually I hate genre-aware jokes but "Okay so we're just killing time until we find out that guy's just a werewolf or something?" is pretty good.

WHERE'S THE ARCH

Also we once again know right away that this lady is evil...no suspense.

Aaaaand we figure out who she is right away too.

This actress is doing a good job tho v nice, super menacing, 1000/10.

"...your confusion..." ma'am no one is confused. Everyone figured it out right away.

Aw we did get to see the dog tho what a good horrid little monster <3

WAIT OKAY ARCH TIME FUCK YEAH

*points* I'VE BEEN THERE

You do have a gift Percy it's called ADHD

Oh shit Percy's dying

dksljfdslkjfkdsj NOT THE FOUNTAIN

the compositing on some of these shots is uh...hmm

Oh Percy you bastard.

Oh there's my DEBILITATING FEAR OF HEIGHTS THAT MADE THIS CHAPTER HELL FOR ME

the Chimera does look cool though these shots are def working.

Finally some good rep of how fucking nasty the Mississippi River is you couldn't pay me to swim in that.

Okay I'm finally sitting down to properly watch the PJO series so here's an episode-by-episode live blog I guess. (Fair warning, I haven't read the books since I was a teenager, I am a smidge of an apologist for the films, and my favorite adaptation so far has been the musical.)

Episode One:

All of the actors are doing a really good job, I especially like Sally.

The costume design for both the monsters and the humans is pretty killer. I want Percy's sweater.

I also love the little seaside cabin and want to live there!!!

This is such a mild gripe BUT as someone with dyslexia I wish there was a better way to visually depict it without like, doing the swapping letters thing cuz that's just not what it's actually like at all.

Gabe maybe feels a little too funny. Like I'm supposed to hate him and think it's justified that he deserves to be turned into stone at the end, this version of him is really.....toned down, and his banter with Percy and Sally was fun to watch. I should hate him, but really he just came across as unpleasant. Less abusive asshole and more "old married couple who share interests but can't communicate without shouting" you know?

Loved Grover's little "I'm 24 actually" lmao that was great.

Not a fan of Percy immediately recognizing the Minotaur within a millisecond of it appearing before the audience even got a good look at it. Like, I just sat there thinking "how can he even see it?" rather than feeling scared of a big monster barreling at them.

The action is uh....fine? Feels a little lackluster. Or kinda....divorced from the rest of the show weirdly?? Idk it makes me feel like I'm watching a movie of a movie if that makes sense?? But we'll see where they go with it. (I know banter during a fight isn't realistic and people make fun of Marvel for it, but like...it helps to have at least a little talking. We don't wanna be Man of Steel.)

I feel like there's been a few "slightly out of sync ADR" moments but they weren't too distracting.

Pacing into Sally saying goodbye felt a little long, kinda took the shock of her dying out of the scene, but the actress REALLY sold all the emotional beats so I'll forgive it.

I LOVE the credits sequence!!! Reminds me of the designs on that one box set of the books in a really cool way.

Episode Two:

Oh yes the ugly ass neon orange shirts are here bless!

FUCK YES THAT'S DIONYSUS BAYBEEE!! My ONLY note is that he def could have turned up the energy a little, but that's probably just bcs I love how loud and unpleasant he is in the musical and I also know how unhinged this actor can be.

Chiron is such a delight <3

I like the cabins too, way better than how I imagined them as a kid reading the books lol

Oh, I can see why the new fans fell for Luke so hard.

Grover assuming a human being squished would be like an old banana is very funny. Felt very book-humor in a good way.

Clarisse!!

Oh damn actual disabled half-bloods, very cool!

Minor but I can't actually tell what Percy did wrong with the bow? Weird editing I guess.

Aside from that I actually love a good "fuck up" montage, I honestly wish it were a little longer.

Probably doesn't matter but I don't get having them burn the food after they've started eating? I thought that was a before you sit down type thing.

Percy burning the blue candy to try to talk to his mom was sweet tho T_T

"real friends" hahahaha.....yeah.......about Luke.......

yay! hazing!

Oh I love Annabeth already >:D

Thalia.....is pronounced differently than I thought....?

(I'm sorry I'm too much of a fan of 'Tree on the Hill' for this exposition dump. That shit hits harder when coming from Grover.)

Percy giving Annabeth the "actually I suck and my self esteem is riding on this so like pls don't ask me to do anything hard T_T" talk is just, so good lmao

ofc he doesn't know what's going on Annabeth you didn't tell him anything

Okay the action is a lot better when it's between the actual characters and doesn't involve a 3D monster, though I still had trouble following all the hits Percy was taking.

Oooh I can see why people did so much art of Percy being claimed that was a good shot.

FUCK YEAH TELL HIM YOU'RE SALLY JACKSON'S SON

(I hope they kept the Oracle in the attic...)

Okay I have to go do some things and then I'll be back for more!

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date.            or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact.  a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels​ for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3  +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot. 

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there��s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

���Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

[pogueszn]

stranded

summary: JJ doesn’t seem to like the new addition to the group, so in hopes of getting them to get along at least, the rest of the pogues leave them stranded in the middle of the marsh on Heyward’s boat

word count: 3.2k

warnings: lil bit of angst, mentions of an anxiety attack. 

It wasn’t a secret that JJ wasn’t a fan of kooks.

Kie was an exception - she was only considered a kook because she had money but she was all pogue. And Sarah wasn’t too bad once he got to know her but she was still a kook, only an honorary pogue. But Y/n Y/l/n? Kook royalty, Y/n Y/l/n? No way, absolutely not. Hell would have to freeze over before Y/n could even be in the running to be a pogue. 

JJ still remembers the first time Sarah brought her on one of their boat trips. JJ hadn’t been informed another kook would be coming aboard the HMS pogue, if he had he probably would have skipped out altogether.  

“What’s she doing here?” he had questioned as he watched her trail behind Sarah. 

She was clad in a bathing suit, a pair of shorts, and some Gucci flip flops that probably cost more than three months’ worth of his paycheck. 

“Relax, JJ,” John B replied, “she’s cool.” 

He scoffed, watching her greet Kie with a hug and some gross pet name like they were friends. Kiara wasn’t friends with kooks. She introduced herself to Pope with a smile and a handshake before turning to him, offering him the same. Arms folded over his chest, pouting like a child, he looks her up and down. 

“JJ.” Kie scolded. 

Y/n slowly retracted her hand with a low and stretched out, ‘okay’, before moving to John B and greeting him with a special handshake. What the actual fuck? When did they go from actively hating kooks to being friends with them? Had he missed the memo? 

JJ didn’t care to know more about her, even when she started ambushing their hangouts more often, he knew enough. Every time Y/n tried to be nice she was shot down by a comment, a scoff, a groan. He didn’t care. He didn’t want her charity, her fake nice bullshit, and didn’t care to keep up with her ‘I’m tired of having a silver spoon up my ass, I wanna play around in The Cut,’ phase she was going through. He liked his group the way it was. If she wanted some friends why didn’t she stick to the kids in Figure 8? But that was the thing about kooks. They antagonized the kids in The Cut like it was their job - if they even knew what that was -, treated them like nothing more than gum on the bottom of their shoe but the second they wanted some fun where did they go? 

But the thing about Y/n that JJ didn’t bother to find out was that John B hadn’t been lying, she was actually pretty cool. She liked to surf, especially right before a storm. She was funny and caring and down to earth, unlike 98% percent of the kids on the north side. And that she had always had a big, fat, stupid, crush on him. There probably wasn’t a girl on the island that didn’t think JJ Maybank was a total babe. Kooks and pogues included. And she couldn’t lie, JJ not bothering to hide the fact that he couldn’t stand her had, for a lack of better words, hurt her feelings. And although JJ never missing out on a chance to badger her had sent her back into her shell, it didn’t take long for her to start sticking up for herself. There wasn’t anything JJ wouldn’t use to argue with her, whether it be a comment on her not belonging or stating the fact that her mere existence bothered him. And even though he made her blood boil, there could maybe, possibly, still be some feelings lingering around inside of her for him. But that didn’t mean she was going to let him bash her and say nothing in return. 

The two could barely go an hour without bickering, driving the pogues absolutely insane. Last Tuesday had been no different. 

Y/n had already had a shitty day at work by the time she showed up at John B’s. JJ groaned upon the sight of her, like he always did, earning a scolding from Pope. They had all been lounging on the porch, Y/n’s legs lying in Sarah’s lap. 

“I just don’t know why he would do something like that, he was super rude.” 

JJ chuckled from across the room, flipping his lighter between his fingers. 

“Because you’re a total bitch.” 

“Lay off, JJ.” Sarah defended. 

“Come on,  man,”  said JB.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before but it had been three-and-a-half months of this, and it was nonstop. JJ hadn’t said one nice word to her since he met her, and his comment on top of an already awful day had been the straw that broke the camels back. 

She took her feet off of Sarah’s lap, grabbing her bag off the floor and throwing the strap over her shoulder. 

“I’m not sitting around and listening to this bullshit,” 

The rest of the pogues tried to stop her from leaving, apologizing for JJ for what seemed like the millionth time, while JJ chortled from the love seat, 

“Ooooh, did I strike a nerve there, princess?” 

“JJ, stop, for once!” Kie exclaimed. 

“Fuck you, JJ!” 

The venom in her voice caused everyone to still. They had never heard her sound like that before. Y/n always sounded so sweet, even when she was calling JJ a piece of shit or telling him to go to hell. She left them on the porch that day, wide-eyed, glancing between each other and hadn’t come back since. Even with Sarah and the rest of the gang asking her to, Y/n stood her ground. She was no longer going to take shit from JJ Maybank - no matter how cute he was. Y/n refusing to come back and JJ refusing to go apologize was what got them here. Stranded in the middle of the marsh on Heyward’s boat. 

Pope and Kiara had all but barreled through her door earlier this morning, rambling on about John B and Sarah getting stuck in the marsh and Sarah freaking out, saying they needed Y/n to come and calm her down. When they got to Heyward’s boat John B sent her down the hatch, informing her Sarah had locked herself down there earlier and hadn’t let John B in. She found no Sarah but she did find the hatch door locked by the time she turned around.

 It wasn’t long before they got JJ on the boat with some other bullshit excuse. Her hair was sticking to her forehead by the time JJ pulled the hatch open. They locked eyes, swearing simultaneously. The pogues were already a few yards away from the boat when JJ turned around. 

“Have fun, you guys!” John B shouted back at them. 

“Figure your shit out!” Pope yelled, “There’s food inside - and some weed too!”

“We’ll be back for you in the morning!” Said Kie. 

“You guys are assholes!” Y/n shouted. 

JJ threw two middle fingers up at them before venturing inside, leaving Y/n still in her place, watching the HMS disappear in the distance. She eyed him as he searched for the baggie, a twinkle in his eyes when he pulled it out. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little early? We’re gonna be here all night, let’s not waste the weed in the first five minutes.” 

He hadn’t even spared her another glance before he started rolling up. Y/n sighs, mentally preparing for the long night stuck on a boat with a kid who despised her. She takes a glance around, spotting her bag. At least they left that for her. She rummages through it, finding her speaker relatively easily. 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” 

She doesn’t know if she necessarily expected a reply, if she did she didn’t expect it to be a nice one. 

JJ scoffs from his place inside, his tongue flicking out to lick the wrapper. 

“Listen here, princess, this is what’s going to happen,” he says, “we’re gonna smoke a jay, and then we’re going to stick to our respective sides and get through the night. Got it?” 

Y/n rolls her eyes at him, stuffing her speaker back into her bag and pulling out her earphones instead. 

“So that’s a no to the music.” 

He comes to sit outside with her, flicking his lighter open and lighting the joint. He takes one, two, large puffs before offering it to her. He rolls his eyes as he watches her struggle to untangle her earphones. He takes another long hit before he waits. 

She takes the joint from him, offering him a soft thank you. They smoke the joint until it’s gone, in fact, they ended up smoking all the weed they had, leaving Y/n a giggly mess that was driving JJ up the wall. He sits on the other side of the boat, leaning his head back, breathing in deep. He withholds a groan when Y/n breaks out into another laugh. 

“Dude,” she rolls over onto her side, “do you - do you fucking remember-” she can’t even get her sentence out she’s laughing so hard. 

Her loud laugh turns into a wheeze, no sound coming from her mouth as she smacks the floor. She slowly calms herself before she licks her lips, looking back at him. 

“Never mind, I don’t think I’ll be able to say it.” 

He groans. She was making his high wear off. 

“Then why did you even start?” 

She looks at him. She tries to stifle her laugh but she can’t. 

“Oh my god!” JJ runs a hand down his face, “you’re so annoying!”

“Why are you such an asshole?” she manages to get out between laughs. 

JJ shakes his head. Jesus, this girl was going to drive him crazy.

“I thought we agreed to not talk for the night?” he questioned. 

Y/n’s laughing stops. She pulls herself up to sit crisscross-applesauce, looking at him questioningly. 

“Why do you hate me so much? Like,”  she licks her lips as she thinks of what the say, “like I always tried to be nice to you.” 

JJ shakes his head, avoiding her gaze. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. 

“I just don’t like you,” JJ hates that he feels his stomach drop when he sees her face fall, “it’s not that deep.” 

“You don’t even know me! You didn’t even try!” she exclaims, “the only thing you know about me is that I’m a kook.” 

“And that’s all I need to know.” 

“Sarah’s a kook!” she states. 

“Sarah’s not my favorite.” 

“Kie is technically a kook!” 

JJ finally locks eyes with her, 

“Don’t talk to me about Kie. You don’t know anything about us, alright? So cut it out.” 

Y/n sighs, she’s trying. She’s trying so hard. Because she loves the pogues, she really does, but she knows that she can’t keep playing this game with JJ. And if he’s not willing to at least try to be civil with her, it wouldn’t work. 

“Oh, Jesus, JJ, knock it off with the tough guy shit! I’m trying to fix things!”

“Well, why don’t you quit while you’re ahead, huh, princess?” 

“So that’s it?” she questions, “you’re not even gonna try? Not even for the pogues?”

JJ was annoyed. He’d stuck on this boat for hours, he was hot, the pogues hadn’t packed enough weed, not enough food, and she was driving him nuts, 

“Don’t! Don’t try to guilt me into being your friend! You’re a spoiled brat who got bored in her..in her ivory tower and decide to come to the south side for playtime, who’s throwing a fit because she’s not getting her way - newsflash, sweetheart, not everyone has to fucking like you.”

 Y/n’s gaze slipped from his blue eyes to her hands. She’s twiddling her fingers, locking the tips of her fingers together. She doesn’t say a word as she shuffled back to the wall, putting her earphones back in. 

For a while, JJ was happy she wouldn’t be bothering him for the rest of the night. He might even be able to catch a few hours of sleep out here now. But as the sun set and the moon took her place and with Y/n quiet as a mouse, the only noise being the cicadas and the slight hum of Y/n’s music from her earphones, JJ was left alone with his thoughts. He looks over at her. She was huddled under a beach towel across the boat, her eyes glued to the sky, a slight frown settled on her face. His mind began to wander. He’d known Y/n for a long time - in a technical sort of speak. But everyone on the island knew Y/n Y/l/n. She was a kook, one that could often be found with Kelce, Topper, and Rafe. Rafe had been following her around like a lost puppy the last two summers, so even if JJ wanted to get to know her it wouldn’t get far with Rafe attached to her hip.

 His mind wandered back to when he first met her. 

That day on the boat when Sarah brought her along he felt his blood boil. He had just gotten used to Sarah and now she was adding somebody else? JJ wasn’t the one for change, wasn’t fond of it. He liked things the way they were and when things started to change, like they do, he shut down.

 Reality had set in on what he said to her a long time ago but guilt still washed over him. Because the truth was that she had always tried to be nice to him, especially in the beginning. And even after she had enough of his bullshit and started fighting back, she never went out of her way to start a fight with him. The pogues had tried telling him that he would like if he just gave her a shot but he always shrugged them off; certain he knew enough about her to know what type of person she was. But Kie liked her - hell, Kie was obsessed with her. Her and John B teased each other like they were siblings, she could talk to Pope for hours about that weird card game he liked to play. But JJ was never willing to try. Maybe he should’ve. 

He cleared his throat, scratching his forearm nervously. He stands, walking across the boat and sits next to her. She looks at him, confused, from the corner of her eye. 

“Hey…what’re you listening to?”    

Her eyebrows scrunch and she flashes her phone at him. 

“That’s a good song,” he says. 

Y/n lets out a breath, shifting to look at him. 

“Do you need something?” 

She had the right to be angry with him. He antagonized her for three months and when she tried to bury the hatch he blew her off. He would be angry with him too. And he was. 

“I’m sorry…” he begins, “I’ve been an asshole to you. It’s just - you came in and fit so great with everybody. And everyone loves you, like a lot. And I’m not used to...I don’t like change.” 

She looks at him wearily, she’s not sure if she believes what he’s saying. But she’s willing to listen. 

“It’s not an excuse,” he adds, “I’m sorry. And if you’re still up for being my friend, I’d like to atone.” 

She laughs, 

“Atone?” 

“Yeah, you know, for my sins?” 

She nods, a small smile on her face. JJ was surprised by how easily she forgave him. It would’ve taken a lot more than a simple apology to get her back in his good graces but was a fault of his own.

 Y/n had ditched her headphones almost an hour ago, swapping her favorite playlist for sharing stories with JJ instead. The smiles on their faces are lit up by the small lantern placed in the middle of them, Y/n watches JJ’s face light up as he tells her an old story of the pogues. She can’t remember a time she’s seen a smile on JJ’s face, at least not in her presence. He stops suddenly, rubbing his nose aggressively with the palm of his hand. 

“What is wrong with you?” she laughs. 

“I got a booger in my nose,” he flared his nostrils, “you wanna get it for me?” 

“Ew, gross, JJ!”

He laughed at her, turning to blow his nose in a spare napkin. He wiggles the now balled-up napkin at her tauntingly. 

“Don’t you dare-”

He was already pouncing on her before she could finish her sentence. She manages to get her hands up in time to defend herself from him and his napkin, but JJ was strong. They wrestled for a moment before JJ gave up, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Okay, I give,” 

“God!” she laughs, out of breath, “I don’t know how I have a crush on you! You’re so gross!”

He stilled as he looked back at her, his mouth parted, 

“You have a crush on me?”

Y/n felt her cheek heat up. She hadn’t meant to say it, it slipped out before she could stop it. The confident look on his face makes the heat spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. 

“Had,” she lies, “I meant to say...had.” 

He nods, although the look on his face says otherwise, as he inches his way closer to her. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says, “had.” 

“I’m serious,” she replies. 

“Yeah, mhm.” 

“I’m serious, J-” 

“You already said that,” he interjected. 

“-I don’t have a crush on you.” 

“Oh, no, I know,” he smirks, “you definitely don’t think I’m smoking hot and don’t want to mack on me all the time.” 

“I do not!”

He grabs her wrist, giving it a light tug so she’d face him directly. 

“Then why don’t you look me in the eye and say it?” 

She gulps. His bright blue eyes were staring back at her, his pink lips pulled into a smirk that was making her stomach flip. She shook her head, trying to keep herself from smiling. 

“I don’t…” she licks her lips, she tries to keep her eye from drifting down to his mouth but it’s a lost cause, “I don’t have a crush on you.” 

He lets out a soft laugh, 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

“I am not flustered-” 

JJ shifts forward, meshing their lips together. The kiss was chaste - unsure - and just as quickly as it started, it was over. JJ chuckles when he sees her eyes are still closed, she seems to chase after him when he pulls away. Her eyes flicker open and he toys with her bottom lip.

“Still don’t have a crush on me?” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

Y/n closes the distance between them again and he smirks into her mouth, letting his hand move to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer. 

The next day when the pogues came back to pick them up, they spread out to either side of the boat, pretending they hadn’t spent half of the night macking on each other. The pogues groaned and when they look away JJ sends her a wink. She giggles and shakes her head. JJ has heard her giggles for months now but they’ve never given him butterflies before. Not until now. 

Oh fuck. 

Now this could be trouble.