#so as people that live here we just pull the toilet door to instead of shutting it fully

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

one of my cats respects the closed toilet door and waits outside, the other cat busts down that door with all of their might so you’re exposed pants down mid shit to the entire household. she may insist on sitting on your lap.

if you come to visit I’m sorry in advance

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Rowan with a pregnant mate☺️

He’d just be so overprotective I’m living for it

Also I feel like the rest of the cadre would be so involved and protective as well bc that’s their baby niece/nephew!

Oh I liked this...

Dad to be

Let's get one thing straight - Rowan would be petrified and I doubt that would even cut it. I think the moment the word "I'm carrying your babe", would leave your mouth he would go pale. That male has seen some raw, brutal battles and walked out unfazed by it but those four words make him forget how to breathe for a moment.

Without a doubt, the first thing Rowan would picture would be Lyria's lifeless, brutalized body. That not that long ago was full of life and carried their unborn child as well. Now instead of her face it's you who lays their dead. And Rowan is pushed face-first into the same suffering that he thought had healed decades ago.

"Rowan", you would mutter all scared, thinking that this was indeed something that he never wanted. He had only mentioned Lyria scarcely to you and you had respected that but now you knew that this had opened the door Rowan never wanted to open again.

I think he wouldn't say anything. He would reach for you though. Pulling you closer to him so you could stand between his legs and he could rest his hand on your still mostly flat stomach. His heart aches that much more when he picks up on the baby's heartbeat.

That night Rowan would sleep with you tightly pressed against his chest while his hand resting on your stomach.

And when I tell you that overnight he would snap into a father role, I mean it. I doubt you would have a proper conversation straight away because he would need time to process but you would be woken up with two trays of food on the side of the bed, full of fresh vegetables and fruits of all sorts. And you best believe that you ain't getting out of bed until he sees you at least take a bite of half of the things in front of you.

When the morning sickness hits, he is by your side through it all. Never have you spent a moment bent over a toilet by yourself. Rowan is always there, cooler hands soothing the nausea. A gentle breeze of wind hits your damp forehead, as he mutters all sorts of praise for you.

There's no way in hiding the pregnancy as well. Gavriel would know before even you knew of it, old enough to sense it and feel it in the first days in my humble opinion. And Fenrys is too noisy so he would just splatter a question of why your sent had shifted.

They would be delighted. It's the first baby to enter the family so you best believe they are already fighting over who would be loved the most.

I also doubt that Rowan would be territorial around others. Sure, they might earn a snare if they got too close or smothered you too long but he would feel a sense of peace knowing that he has the best worries protecting you as well. Because he knows that they would rather die than let you get harmed, knowing that Fenrys pulled a sword at a caterpillar who fell onto the picnic blanket.

With your bump getting bigger Rowan would get more and more cuddly. You always were a rather affectionate couple but now there isn't a moment he isn't touching you in some way. Side hugs, hugs from the back, you on his lap, him reaching for your hand. He needs you close. Hearing both of your heartbeats is all that he needs.

And I think eventually, one night, with you both cuddled up together beneath the furs Rowan would finally admit how scared he is and how if something was to happen he would want to die himself this time around. There was no way he could go through losing the most important people in his life.

"But we are here. I want you to live in the moment. Experience this", you would mutter, pressing your hands onto his. He would nuzzle his face deeper into the crook of your neck, "I love you both but...", "No, buts, we are here and now, and we are well".

And Rowan let himself believe that for the first time. That he was going to get his happy ever after. Because a father. Watch his child grow beside you. And for the first time, he let himself smile, truly, from within his heart.

[merajsblog]

itadori yuuji.

“your guilt will be your past and that will be your god.”

warnings: there is shibuya arc spoilers in here so read at your own risk :)

in all your time together, you knew how important it was to yuuji to follow through with his resolve. he wanted to help others achieve proper deaths. he wanted to save who he could. he wanted to be around those who he saved and cherished as he died. itadoris entire being was for others, or so he wanted it to be. there was no foreshadowing to shibuya, a once lively city. instead, all was left was rough earth and faint screaming. and tears. and vomit. he couldn't stop blaming himself for what happened. so much had built up to this, so many people had built up to this. it ruined him. you knew that better than anyone. nights were spent by the toilet as he would wake up in a cold sweat and he couldn't stop vomiting. it was as if he was trying to vomit the guilt away. he was full of blank, empty stares, as if there was nothing in front of him. there was certainly nothing left of shibuya. cold fingers and frowns. grey storm clouds and the constant sound of water as yuuji sat in the shower, trying to wash away the sins and blood on his hands. they were not his to battle, but he felt inclined to. it was hard to find the proper words to say to him. saying "it's okay" seemed untrue in every way. he wasn't okay, what happened wasn't okay, and everything being thrown at him wasn't okay. there was no standard as to how he was supposed to deal with this, but surely this wasn't it? it seemed detrimental, and it formed him as a human being.

"are you alright itadori?" you called out from the bedroom. he had been in the shower again, for the third time today.

"i'll be out soon, was just feeling a little dirty..." he said from the bathroom. rolling your eyes, you got up from your shared bed, and walked over. you leaned against the open-door frame. he was sitting on the floor below the shower head, where the water was hitting his back. he was staring at the floor. the steam fogged up the windows and the mirror. you couldn't see any reflection of yourself at all, and neither could he see any of himself. maybe it was on purpose. slowly stripping, you step into the shower. he gets up slowly, confused as to why you were getting in. sure, you had showered together before, but it was just the last thing you had expected. you give him a soft smile. you pump some shampoo into your hand, and gesture for him to turn around. the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. he always loved when you washed his hair, or really touched him at all. he always craved your touch. it was as if your touch rid him of all his thoughts. there was nothing more than your warm hands and feelings of safety and home. you would ramble about your day, or what stupid shit gojou was up to. it was nice to hear him occasionally giggle. you two would be in the shower, and lather each other up. washing away both of your sins down the drain. you would both sit on the bathroom floor, and he would sob. there was nothing else to do but cry. how unfair it was. the best you could do was remind him how it wasn't his fault. none of it was ever his fault. it was like beating a dead horse to keep saying that to him, but it was all you could say. shibuya being flattened was not his will. while it was his body that was housing the curse that killed everyone, all he could do was sit back with his eyes wide. nothing was going to change that those people had died. nothing was going to bring anyone back. there was no reason why a kid would of had to deal with these emotions and thoughts, but here we were.

"thanks for being here with me..."he would mumble every now and then, while looking at the ground. he really was grateful for what you've done with him. it wasn't easy to constantly bend down and pick someone up from the floor without being pulled to the floor yourself. but for him, you'd do it every time, no questions asked. he would do the same for you. and he deserved it so much more than he thought he did. while he was trying to re-strengthen his resolve, you held onto it for him. you helped him build his resolve back through soft kisses, and warm head pats. washing his hair in the shower and holding hair off his forehead as he vomited into your shared toilet. telling him over and over again how it was never his fault, and how it was unfair.

"you're the strongest person i know." you mumbled to him as you both laid in bed together, facing each other. his eyes were a deeper color, and new scars crowded his face. eyebags pulled at his lash line, and the new scar by his mouth made him look like he had a permanent scowl. he let out a small laugh.

"even though I look like this? even after all you've seen?" he said, almost astonished. "i thought you would've left me by now honestly...i mean i would have left me.." he said, eyes darting around. you hold his face gently. "even after all i've seen. if the nightmares come back this time, i'll be here to chase them away. i'll always be here to chase them away." you plant a small kiss on his nose, and slowly you two drift into sleep.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of BL fics with cross-dressing. If you’d like more of these types of fics, you can also find a lot of amazing ones on our Louis in lingerie rec list here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please show support by liking and reblogging this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Viens Jouer Dehors (Come Out And Play) | Explicit | 3102 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis is a French model. Harry is the coffee guy. Louis doesn't speak English. It works out.

2) Handprints And Good Grips | Explicit | 3330 words

Harry wants to pull them down and suck him off. Harry wants to never take them off and eat him out over the lace. Harry wants to push them aside and fuck the imprint right into Louis’ body.

3) I'll Ride You (Like A Harley) | Explicit | 3517 words

Louis and Harry go to a club, too many people flirt with Louis and jealousy occurs. Harry decides that Louis is too pretty to get fucked in the toilets of a club and instead decides that Louis riding him on his Harley isn't that bad of an idea. And Louis is always willing to please his daddy.

4) Your Reputation and Your Good Intent | Explicit | 4028 words

Louis is a pinup model and Harry is his photographer. The shoot is anything but innocent.

5) Could Be Kissing My Fruit Punch Lips | Explicit | 4554 words

Harry happens upon a porn site that specializes in live videos and sort of falls in love with the cute boy he only knows as Kitty.

And then he gets the surprise of his life when he finds out Kitty attends his university...

6) TommoTwink | Not Rated | 4554 words

Harry was freaking out, he couldn’t find his laptop charger; he was searching everywhere around his shared flat for it but couldn’t seem to find it. You see, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if it wasn’t the second Tuesday of this month and almost 8 at night but it was and he wasn’t going to miss his favorite camboy live stream. That was not an option.

7) My Camboy | Explicit | 5125 words

"Alright, I’m off to bed." Harry said, throwing his plate in the sink.

"No work tonight?" Zayn asked, meeting his eyes

"Nope, not tonight." He occasionally worked mid-nights at the hotel down the street. Nothing major, just sat at the front desk, doing his homework, while he managed to talk to one person a night.

"Gonna study and get to bed early tonight."

"Or talk to your camboy." Zayn laughed, turning back to the TV.

Harry just rolled his eyes and didn’t answer as he quickly shuts his door, locking it. Sadly, Zayn was right, it was Thursday night, and his favorite boy was on soon. He went by Twink6Tommo9 and Harry was absolutely smitten.

8) I'll Make Sure To Call You Mine | Not Rated | 5388 words

It's Louis' birthday and Harry has come over to his family's house to celebrate. When Louis' parents and sisters go to sleep, Harry and Louis have some fun.

9) Such A Heavenly View | Not Rated | 5742 words

Louis discovers that he really likes girly things.

10) It's You That I Adore | Explicit | 5758 words

Where Louis is Harry's precious little faunlet and he makes sure the little one is aware of that.

11) Beverly Hills, Baby Honey | Mature | 7161 words

Louis strongly believes that Harry Styles is a bottom, a submissive, simply because he is one— he also fights people on Twitter about it. Until he meets the very man himself, and proves him how he couldn't be anymore mistaken as the man turns him putty in his arms, strong arms- pliant and docile.

12) I Won't Do You No Harm. | Explicit | 8378 words

Little black dress just walked into the room.

13) Makes Perfect | Explicit | 8610 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

"What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?" Louis presses. "Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don't know, a pillow or something. Whatever it'd fit around."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. "It's different, though, innit? When it's a real person. A pillow won't snog me."

"Why should it?" says Louis. "You can't even take its bra off."

14) Lights, Camera, Acción (You Can Be My Daddy) | Explicit | 8855 words

Louis is a slutty little camboy who likes going out without panties and Harry fucks him.

15) Maid in the A.M. | Explicit | 9118 words

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The lad frowned at him.

“Sorry,” Harry said automatically. Which, wait. No, that wasn’t right. “Um, actually, I sort of live here?”

Okay, that came out less firm than Harry would like, but it was still true.

The guy rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Harry had absolutely no idea what was happening.

16) If I Had One Wish I Know What I'd Wish For | Explicit | 10494 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis is the new servant at the Styles’ castle, and Harry is the Prince of England. Louis is resilient to Harry’s charm, but only for a while. They end up together, and they sneak around for a while until telling everyone.

17) Put It On Me | Mature | 14890 words

Harry's bachelor party doesn't go as planned.

18) Let’s Make Christmas Merry, Baby | Explicit | 19871 words

Harry and Louis have to play Mr and Mrs Claus at a frat party and don’t get on, but keep getting stuck under mistletoe until they do.

19) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23567 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

20) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42207 words

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny.

21) Sweet Lou | Explicit | 115949 words

The Sweet Lou is a mafia romance between Louis and Harry. Louis is the son of a mafia Don, and Harry heads his own crime family. Though he's destined to marry Louis’ sister, they can't escape their obvious connection.

22) To Be Loved To Be In Love | Mature | 129407 words

At 18, every Sub must take a Match Test to find their Dom.

Poor, Farm kid Louis Tomlinson is matched with Rich, Businessman Harry Styles.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[dreamcatcher92]

Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter 1

*WARNINGS*

Use of alcohol, smut, sex, violence.

This is my first time posting anything like this haha, please be nice.

At first when you moved into your small one-bedroom apartment, you were a bit uncomfortable because until now, you had always had a roommate living with you so you wouldn't be alone. Now here you are living completely on your own in New York City.

It was a Friday like any other. You were finally going to step out of your comfort zone and had agreed to meet your new friend Taren at a bar a couple blocks from your apartment building. After trying on at least six or seven outfits, you finally choose your favorite dark green dress that comes just above your knees. Paired with your dress, you chose a dark denim jacket, small golden stud earrings, and your favorite low-top all black converse shoes.

“Welp here goes nothing.” you say as you look yourself up and down in the full-length mirror hanging on your bedroom wall.

The bar that Taren chose is one of the more popular ones in the city, so there are always a lot of people there. As you walk closer to the bar, you hear your name being called out by a familiar voice. It was Taren. She was standing under a streetlamp waving at you and smiling from ear to ear. You walk up to her, and she embraces you in a hug.

“AH! I am so glad you decided to come out with me finally! We are going to have so much fun!” Taren yells in excitement as she pulls away from your hug. “Come on!” She grabs your hand and pulls you behind her toward the front door of the bar.

On the outside, it looks like your typical bar. Tons of people inside and out. Everyone is laughing, drinking, and having a good time. Music is blaring and different colored lights are shining. This really is bringing you out of your comfort zone, but you take a deep breath and relax thinking to yourself that you need this.

There were so many people inside that between the music and everyone having a conversation of some sort, you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. It had been about half an hour into the night, and you already needed to take a breather. You scan the place looking for the restroom and finally spot it clear in the back.

“Of course,” you say to yourself as you turn to Taren to let her know where you were going and that you would be back in a few minutes.

“Okay!” Taren yells already clearly feeling her alcohol.

You set your drink on the table and start your way through the crowd of people toward the bathroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you lock eyes with a stranger as you push your way past each person you encounter. He smiles at you, and you feel like your face is suddenly set on fire. You turn quickly and continue until finally; you have made it to the lady’s room.

You open the door and can barely even step inside. There are so many girls in there. Some are fixing their makeup and reapplying lip gloss, while others are puking their guts up into the disgusting toilets. You let out a deep sigh of annoyance as you turn to head outside instead.

As you make your way to the front door, you can see that Taren is perfectly content at the table you were both sitting at, only now, there were three other people joining her in shots and laughs. She’ll be fine, you thought to yourself. Finally, you reach the door and let out a sigh of relief.

You step outside, close your eyes, and take in a deep breath of fresh air.

“Better?” says a deep voice behind you.

Your eyes open quickly, and you turn to face the source of the voice. It was him. The same dark brown-haired hottie that smiled at you just minutes ago. You gulp.

“Yeah. A bit.” you say, breaking eye contact with him because you’re extremely shy.

As you look back up to try and meet eyes again, he’s already looking at you with a small smirk on his face. He can sense your shyness and it makes this all the more exciting for him.

“I’m Billy.” he says to you as he reaches out his large hand toward you.

You bite your lower lip and place your hand in his as you say, “I’m Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, Anna.” Billy says as he gently shakes your hand.

“Y-Yeah. You too.” you say, breaking eye contact once again to look at the ground and taking your hand from his. “I should get back inside. My friend is probably wondering where I am by now.”

You quickly walk away before giving him a chance to say another word and make your way back inside where your friend was. You walk back and sit down on your bar stool at the high top. Taren is excited to see you and you both start talking about random things. About an hour or so has passed and you are interrupted mid-sentence when a waitress brings you a refill of your fruity drink. You look at it for a moment with confusion because you’ve already had more to drink than you said you would, and you definitely didn’t ask for another.

So, you say to the waitress, “Oh, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t order this ma’am.”

She just smiles at you and points in a direction. You look where she is pointing and see Billy. He smiles and raises his beer to you as if to say cheers. With the alcohol in your system, you’ve gained some confidence and decided to drink your new cocktail. You hold up your glass toward Billy and mouth the words “thank you.” Then you return to the story that you were telling Taren.

“Last call!” yells a bartender. You jump.

“I should get home, Taren. I didn’t realize how late it was getting to be.” you say to your friend who is at this point pretty drunk.

Luckily, another friend of yours and Taren’s drives for Uber and agrees to come pick Taren up and take her home safely.

“You sure you don’t need a ride, Anna? I really don’t mind!” Sammy says to you as you buckle Taren into the backseat.

“No, really, I’m fine! It’s literally a couple blocks from here. Plus, the night air will help me sober up a little.” you say laughing and climbing back out of the car. “Thank you though! Oh, and please make sure she gets home safe!”

“Always girly!” Sammy says before you close the door, and he drives off.

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — glass shards #6

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: captivity, lots of blood and injury, fingers in mouth (not sexual), blindfolds and chains

Leo was awake when Roy returned. He’d been unable to fall asleep after eating, the glass shard tucked in his hand and a million thoughts racing through his mind. Adrenaline coursed through his veins in a constant rush, keeping him alert and paranoid with each passing second.

Time was slipping past his fingers.

It could have been seconds, maybe even minutes or an hour, sat against the wall on top of the mattress.

He wondered how long it had been since he was taken, but then remembered there was no point. He would never know, so he tried not to let it consume him, or think about the implications of it. Was Roy really going to keep him alive?

He hardly remembered to feed him.

Would he eventually grow bored of having to look after him, and tie up loose ends? Leo felt terrified as he imagined what that would be like.

“Sorry, lion. I know this isn’t easy for you, but I don’t really care.”

There would probably be a gun. He’d be trembling as the mercenary crept closer, cowering against the wall. Maybe he’d beg. He’d probably start screaming for mercy. But Roy wouldn’t care.

“Might be easier not to watch,” he might say, smiling softly. “You can turn around. I’ll make it quick.”

His heart sank to his boots. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked with a cold chill, making him instinctively rub the skin there with his free hand. He didn’t want to think about that right now. The glass shard in his hand felt hot enough as it was. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d find a way to get the chain off, or get Roy to take him out of them before he noticed the glass was missing.

His teeth pressed down on his bottom lip.

It felt like it had been hours, his eyelids drooping, before the door screeched open. He winced violently at the noise, head turning aside to make sure it really was him coming through the door. He didn’t think there was anyone else, but if they were close to other living people, it might be easier to get out.

Leo tried to steady his breathing as Roy kicked the door shut behind him, dusting off his hands as he did so. His eyes were already locked onto him, lips curved into a conniving smile.

“Morning, lion.”

Leo stiffened. Morning?

He hadn’t brought food with him, or come down to collect the empty bowl and (now shattered and missing) glass. When during the day was he feeding him? If it was morning right now, then maybe he could find other people. The thought spurred him on.

“I...” He pressed his back stiffly against the wall. “Morning.”

Roy almost snickered. “Feeling polite today, are we?”

The ex-secretary almost clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to make him suspicious, but he needed to get out of the chains before Roy went to pick up the used bowl and glass.

“I need to go to the toilet,” he whispered softly, staring up at him with begging eyes. Which, was the truth, surprisingly enough. Leo didn’t know how long he had been down here for, but he knew he would need to relieve himself sometime. Roy eyed him up for a moment, his smile increasing.

“I figured,” he hummed, stepping closer until he was next to the mattress. His hand slid into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a key and black piece of fabric. Leo watched intensely, shifting. “I was going to make you say pretty please, but you sure know how flutter those eyelashes to get what you want, hm?”

Leo had to bite his tongue when he felt the urge to say please regardless. He didn’t want to seem too desperate. Instead, his nerves just seemed to grow when Roy crouched down, tugging on the chain. It jerked him closer, and he scrambled to keep his hand hidden.

“How’s the porridge?”

He was surprised by the question. He only found a way to untangle his tongue when Roy’s eyes flickered towards him.

“Fine,” he finally breathed out, his voice shaking. “It’s good.”

The mercenary looked away. “You shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not,” he insisted.

The key slotted into the clamp around his ankle, and Leo could hear his heartbeat growing louder and louder. It was near defeaning, and it felt like the ground was shaking beneath him. Roy was speaking, but Leo couldn’t hear anything.

The moment the clamp released its hold on his ankle, he leapt forward. The glass shard drove toward his face, yet Roy had reacted inhumanly fast, and thrown his hands up in defense. The tip of the shard dragged through the flesh of his palm, and Roy bit back a hiss as his fingers wound around Leo’s wrist, jerking it away.

His stomach sank, and his ankle throbbed in pain as he began trying to wriggle free from the grasp. He could feel blood soaking into his skin, and Roy squeezed and twisted the joint so abruptly, he was surprised the bone hadn’t shattered.

The shard fell from his fingers, landing on the mattress.

Roy had this dark glimmer in his eye, yet his lip was curled into a surprised smirk, letting out a sharp exhale.

“Fuck, lion...”

His free hand clamped around his throat, and Leo barely even had time to let out a squeak of pain before he was being dragged off the mattress and into the middle of the room. His lungs stuttered to a stop, panicked fingers scraping desperately at his hand.

His skull cracked on the concrete as Roy shoved him into the ground, pressing a knee to the middle of his chest. It pressed into his lungs and made it difficult to breathe properly.

“What did you think you were doing?”

Leo’s mouth stuttered open. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me...”

Roy tilted his head to the side, huffing. His eyes drifted to his hand, lifting it up for him to see. The blood was pooling along the surface, the flesh torn into a nasty gash and dripping blood with the assistance of gravity.

Leo flinched when a drop landed on his cheek. It slid down his skin and onto the ground, making him whimper.

The mercenary noticed, and a sly smile curled on his lips.

“You cut me pretty deep,” he hummed, tilting his hand and letting the drops land on Leo’s face. He nearly squeaked, sliding his legs fruitlessly to try and wriggle his way out of this. His chest was constricting painfully with each shallow breath.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed, lion. Look at that.”

Leo’s soft whines were muffled when Roy closed his hand around his mouth. His eyes widened and his throat shrieked, jerking in his hold. He’d used his injured hand – Leo could feel the disgusting flesh against his lips and the foul stench of blood flooding his senses.

His eyes pinched in disgust.

“I was going to punish you for that,” Roy murmured, the smile slipping from his lips for a moment as he observed the secretary underneath him. “But I changed my mind.”

He lifted his hand away, and when Leo went to spit the amalgamation of blood that had coated his face and pooled at his lips, Roy had grasped his jaw in his uninjured hand, and jerked it back to him. Nails bit into his skin, and the secretary whined in pain.

Roy used his thumb to smear the blood across his lips, before dipping his blood coated thumb into his mouth. Leo’s face wrinkled in disgust as the blood found it’s way onto his tongue, choking on it.

“Let’s go. You can wash your face up while you’re there.”

When he was released, Leo twisted round and gagged violently, spitting the coppery globs from his mouth and trying to wipe them from his face. Roy had grabbed him, and roughly hefted him onto his feet.

Leo could hardly keep himself afloat, biting back the whimper when that fabric from before was pressed over his eyes, and tied around his head. The darkness made jitters scramble up his spine, yet the feeling Roy’s arm around his waist and gently taking his wrist to guide him made him feel comforted in a way that he couldn’t understand.

It was disgusting.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump

[ghostonly]

Hello everyone, today i bring you:

Things Americans don't realize they have the shittiest version of

or

Things the Swiss Do Better

At the top of the list, brought to you straight from the bath,

Bathtubs

Are you a full sized adult who longs for the days of childhood when they could lie down in a bathtub and get fully submerged? Do you wish you could stretch your legs out instead of bending them in half and neglecting your ever-coldening knees?

The solution is easy! Go literally anywhere else!

Okay I admit I have actually no idea how most other countries do this; I'm in Switzerland right now staying with my partner. The tubs here are huge. Upon describing the ones I'm used to, my partner was absolutely horrified, so I have to assume this is the norm, because it seems much more likely that most places in the world make adult sized tubs than sad little baby sized ones like the US.

This thing is like 20ish inches deep. When I put my elbow to the bottom, my fingertips are only about an inch higher than the edge. I'm 5'7 and can stretch my full height, the top of my head only sticking a few inches above the edge on the sloped end. This thing makes me feel so short. I'm 250lbs and can rotate fully. None of my torso touches the sides unless you count my upper arms, which don't if I pull them tighter against me. I haven't had a bath like this since I was 6.

Yogurt

I spent my entire life thinking I hated yogurt. It turns out yogurt is actually delicious! ... If it's not American. That sad, overly sweetened, gelatinous, low fat nonsense we've been eating is an affront to good yogurt everywhere (but especially in Switzerland.)

Decent yogurt... It tastes less sugary, yet sweeter - the difference between a gas station donut and a piece of fruit you just picked off a tree. Don't get me wrong, I love a good gas station donut... Just not as much as literally anything here.

I was excited to share American donuts with my partner since donuts here suck, but the problem is that, while US donuts are better than any donut here, they are significantly worse than literally any other dessert here. I got here/brought them two weeks before Christmas. Sadly, they ended up getting composted. There was simply too much better shit to eat.

I digress. The yogurt has a natural sweetness, it's not as thick, which you might think is a bad thing until you realize that the thickness of American yogurt is almost definitely achieved with some kind of thickening agent to make up for the complete lack of creaminess. The yogurt here is thinner but more creamy. It's so nice that I've gone from adamant yogurt hater to eating one all but two mornings since I've gotten here.

Toilet paper

Okay this is a weird one and, again, I admit it could just be a gap in my experience, bit I have lived on the west coast, in the midwest, and in the south of the US, with many different people with many different preferences and I have yet to find toilet paper like this.

The toilet paper here does not have squares. The squares are elongated (rectangles). It's like two ply and it's not soft, but it is thick and firm. The US toilet paper market is so good about pushing a narrative about toilet paper needing to be soft to spare your asshole that we have completely fallen for a scheme that ensures we must use more toilet paper and end up less clean in the end.

Soft, thick toilet paper may feel nicer but you end up having to wipe more because it's never as good at staying together as they claim it is. They can do as many 'drag tests' as they want to show how it stays together, but a flat surface and a hairy ass are not the same thing. Anyway tmi but I use like half as much toilet paper now and never have anything getting left behind.

Doorknobs (THEY DON'T HAVE THEM)

That is to say, doors have handles here. Those round fuckers you twist are nowhere in sight. You might think this is a minute difference that isn't important but you would be wrong. Hands full? Just lean your elbow on the handle. Bam, door is open. Knobs might have been a stylistic marvel in the design world at some point but, practically, they're a fucking nightmare.

Chocolate

Okay I know you've heard this one before but it's usually Europeans scoffing at American chocolate so I'm giving you the American take which is that they're completely right to be scoffing at American chocolate.

I brought a bunch of expensive-ish, Dove mint chocolates with me to share with my partner. The fact aside that he doesn't like mint chocolate apparently, I ate one a couple weeks after getting here(I didn't before then because I was too busy horfing down Swiss chocolates) and it was like their goodness had just fucking disintegrated. I was so disappointed. I had been shoveling these in just weeks before coming here because they were impossibly good and so smooth and luxurious and now I have this big fucking canister of disappointment chocolate. It's not bad... But considering this is some of the better mainstream chocolate in America, that's a devastating downgrade in status.

Ferrero Rocher is extremely common here (it's Italian in origin, just south of Switzerland). I keep feeling like I'm the only one eating it and I finally asked my partner if anyone else is going to eat it because I don't want to eat all the fancy chocolates and he said, "It's not really exciting to us."

Hello??? This is the fanciest of mainstream chocolate in the US!!

The same goes for Lindt Lindor truffles, which are Swiss. They're so accessible here they're not even fancy, they're just average chocolates.

Don't even get me fucking started on the chocolate from the confectionary that we bought when I first got here. We got about eight pieces of different flavors and have only just finished them because each time we had some, we each had one piece. They were so fucking divine that I couldn't eat the rest in one sitting because I was too busy ascending to another plane of existence. Don't get me wrong, we took our time because they're really expensive, but I'm telling you that was okay. One of them was so good that it completely satisfied my desire for chocolate. That's how insanely powerful these chocolates are.

Conclusion

All of the things I hated about America, while in America, have become just kind of baffling to think back on since coming here. Like, how is the US even like this? How is it that bad? It has its merits, but mainly in character and culture, not in quality of life. Anyway, of you ever have the sliver of a chance to go to Europe, absolutely do it, even if its just to visit. I haven't been this happy in my life. Yeah that's largely because I'm finally here with the love of my life after five years of online-only, but a not insignificant chunk is also the quality of life. I've been poor and/or just skirting homelessness for the last 7 years, so this is like whiplash. Anyway I just wanted to share these things. Mainly the tub and yogurt, those are just mind-blowing. I hope it was all a bit interesting to read.

[ff7reno]

First chapter of a fic I started writing forever ago so far its got 15k and is self indulgent as fuck. Never thought of posting more than the first chapter until I get somewhere I feel is good to start posting in a timely manner so have it here too.

Ft. Cloud/Turks poly relationship but the first chapter only has Reno and Cloud for reasons.

Heavy, grey clouds blanketed the sky, the air turning humid with the impending rain that threatened to pour at a moment's notice.

"Think it might rain soon."

Cloud looked up from where he'd been faithfully cleaning down First Tsurugi, glowing blue eyes looking from the red-head to the window and back again, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"No shit."

"Whatever asshole, get rained on, see if I care." Reno scoffed, busying himself with sipping at his mug of hot tea.

Cloud went back to cleaning his sword as Reno reclined back into the breakfast nook, watching the going ons of the countryside, both of them knowing full well he would care enough when Cloud inevitably got rained on to provide him with a towel and warm up whatever leftovers from the other night they had in the fridge to warm him back up, despite not needing to with his enhancements.

They'd been doing this for years, ever since Rufus' passing and the reveal that Cloud Strife was essentially the last living Shinra heir they knew of, the Turks were put under him. Having nowhere else to go they continued their protection duties as was their oath when working for Shinra.

Cloud could never shake them off after and nearly thirty years later he was glad for it.

Though he wouldn't easily admit it.

Blues eyes looked over at Reno, noticing the furrow in his brows and how he squinted even against the cloud covered light of the day that came through the window.

With a shake of his head Cloud set aside his sword, boot clad feet moving towards the kitchen. Reno paid him no mind in the following minutes that passed, looking out towards the fenced in pasture that held their small flock of chocobos.

A hand came over to retrieve his mug, sea green eyes looking up at the blonde who switched his mug with another. The familiar scent of herbs and spices from the new mug made Reno sigh.

"Drink it and you can get your tea back." Cloud answered him, the guttural sounds of Old Nibel rolling over his tongue. He carded his fingers fondly through red strands in patterns made by over thirty years of familiarity, silver crawling up handsomely from the roots. He'd need to touch up his roots again. Or convince him to let his hair grey like the old man he was.

"Careful blondie, might think ya actually care about me." Reno laughed into his drink. A tightening of fingers in his bangs and a short tug had his head tilted back, looking into glowing blue eyes with sharp slitted pupils. His face was calm, the deep crows feet at his eyes crinkling as his face softened just a touch.

"What?" Reno asked, voice soft in the mingled air between them.

"I do."

Reno's eyes softened, "Yeah, I know blondie."

Cloud hummed, smile curling his lips as he looked down at Reno. "You're pronunciation is almost good enough to pass. Only took you over twenty years."

"Should hope so, as many times as you kicked my ass when I got the words mixed up." Reno quipped, drinking his tea.

"You were invoking the gods wrath instead of asking where the toilet was, we Nibel folk take that very seriously. Plus there were some insults to my mother in there, I was obligated to beat your ass in her honor." Cloud said, breathing in the scent of Reno's shampoo lingering in his hair.

"I can confirm, her honor was upheld, so, so many times."

Thunder rolled overhead, the clucking of the chocobos reaching the house and cutting through their conversation.

"Seems your people are getting nervous." Reno said, shit eating grin on his lips.

Cloud punched him in the shoulder, "Asshole," Reno's laughter following him out the door.

"You love it!"

Two hours later found Cloud just inside the front door, soaked to the bone and smile curling at his lips at the smell of stew warmed on the stove.

A shower and bowl of stew later found Cloud walking down the hall towards their shared bedroom, ignoring the small pangs that crept up in his chest as he walked past three other rooms that had long gone empty.

The room was blanketed in darkness, curtains closed and anything that would produce light shut off, the only thing on was the fan whirring quietly on the dresser.

A head of red hair was the only bright spot in the dark, unhidden by the blankets and pillows that otherwise covered the bed and the body in it.

He walked with quiet steps, one knee in the bed as he leaned over, carding fingers through red strands.

"Did the tea help?" Cloud asked, voice barely above a whisper to avoid breaking the peace and quiet the darkness offered.

"Lil' bit." Reno mumbled, eyes still closed as he turned over and from the cocoon of blankets to wrap solid arms around Cloud's waist, missing the concerned frown the blonde held for him.

The tea he gave was the strongest dose yet, a homemade remedy passed down from his mother's medicinal knowledge to cut through severe migraines and hangovers like butter.

"You should get that checked out Reno."

The red head just grumbled, unwilling to take part in the same conversation they've had for around ten years now.

Cloud huffed, hand tangled in the longer strands of hair at the back of Reno's head, laying his cheek on the other's temple.

"I survived getting my ass kicked by you, a headache isn't going to take me out." Reno quipped, pressing his face closer into Cloud's bare chest. A content sigh left him as he settled down.

A low rumble settled in Cloud's chest, at this point it wasn't even a concious action, to the delight of Reno and Elena when they had first found out.

Elena had thought it cute and it had broken down whatever wall on Cloud's side that had been between them after living together for five years at the time.

Reno had gotten him a collar with a bell as a joke.

The asswhooping he got after however, was not a joke.

Tseng had said nothing more than commenting on how traits like his were similar and one of the more pronounced traits that sprung up from the SOLDIERs in the program, going back to whatever paperwork he was working on in the quiet of the shared office in the house.

And Rude hadn't said one word of it, taking it in stride like everything else.

Though when you were involved with someone like Reno, that didn't surprise him about the Turk.

Reno's breaths came out slow and quiet, finally settling to sleep as the world outside rumbled and lay soaked with falling rain.

It wasn't long before Cloud had finally drifted to sleep as well.

@@@

Waking up was slow and syrupy, the light from outside turning the room a soft amber even behind the curtains.

His back popped in several places as he stretched out lazily, pushing at Reno's shoulder in the hope of waking the red head on the first try.

He was dressed within minutes, "You better be up by the time I'm back Reno!" He was out the door before he could hear any reply.

He had fed and was brushing the last of the chocobos by the time the sun was really up. The chocobo in question was an old temperamental hen Reno affectionately had named Ladybird. She was a mean old thing, barely tolerated Cloud, but just adored Reno.

And by adored she only bit him maybe once a day instead of the three to five bites Cloud had to dodge whenever he handled her.

Despite the mean streak they had kept her, any other farmer had promptly returned her when they tried to sell her off so they kept her around.

It also helped she actively kept the coeurl population around the property down to zero despite how much they upgraded the fencing.

A low hiss left Ladybird as she seemed to glare at Cloud.

"Yeah I know girl, Reno's lazy ass is still in bed." Cloud answered her, putting up the brush as he finished the last of her neck feathers. He knew better than to try and brush the rest of her.

She was meticulous about keeping herself neat so he wasn't too worried with her feathers. He was lucky enough she allowed him to help with her neck without taking his hand.

Finishing with the last of the tasks in the barn he let the chocobos out into the pasture, the grass thick, freshly green, and wet with last night's rain and dew.

Cloud entered the house to silence, unusual but not unheard of when Reno had a bad migraine episode. He made his way towards the kitchen, muscle memory helping him make the herbal tea without having to think.

Cloud carried the steeping mug of tea into the bedroom, walking carefully through the mess laden floor to the window, placing the tea on the dresser before opening the curtains, allowing the light to brighten up the room.

"Wake up asshole, your bird wants her morning scratches." Cloud called loudly, turning the small fan on the dresser off, the room plunging into complete silence.

Reno hadn't moved an inch.

"Reno?"

[dietcokeplease]

Bruh youre so fucking rude and if you hate me and my house so much just fucking LEAVE ALREADY

Also like nice job forgetting to remove me from the gc until AFTER you bitch about me

Like i fucking care, make me out as the bad guy to your friends as much as you want, i have receipts and im not the asshole here

This shit makes me wanna start a reddit so i can make a post on AITA and send it to yall lolol

"They treat us like squatters just cause we dont pay rent" UHHH number 1: not paying rent (or even contributing to the household in a positive way) makes you squatters lol, and number 2: we treat you like squatters cause you act like squatters

Like, youre not entitled to my kindness or charity, stop acting like entitled brats

I literally saved you from homelessness (by your own admission) by inviting you into my home rent-free, gave you your own spaces and helped decorate and shit and told you not to worry about money cause i wanted you to feel at home and be able to save money to get back on your feet, but also never imposed strict time limits on how long you could stay) and in return you treated my home like some shitty motel that you can just trash and not do anything to contribute to the household like you said you would

Nothing in this world is free, someone has to pay for it, so i end up paying for you to live here through utilities (which youve also raised significantly by never turning electronics/lights off and leaving the front door wide open all the time), ON TOP of buying you groceries, your medications, and a bunch of non-essentials like video games and shit cause you're depressed and apparently not being able to play the newest video game makes you actively suicidal

Ive also driven you to multiple dr appts on 3+ hour roundtrips, also on my own dime, and volunteered to give you weekly injections so that you didnt have to remember to take a pill every day

I put up with you being straight up rude to me (comparing me to your abuser all because i said i wouldnt go out of my way to fix a mess that you created, hello??) and this is the thanks i get??

Like, i even wrote out the nicest msg i could to be like hey pls stop being asshole roommates or you gotta go, with a detailed list of the shit you regularly pull, but i never sent it cause i was hoping that nicely asking about individual issues would be enough

Specific examples not included- REPEATEDLY using my nice steak knives as regular knives (for shit like peanut butter, cutting brownies, etc) and leaving them lying around dirty despite the fact that ive asked multiple times to AT LEAST clean them and put them away right away, vaping inside and allowing guests to vape inside despite knowing the STRICT no smoking rule, repeatedly using other peoples things without asking and not at least putting it back where found (perfume, toothpaste, cologne, socks, hair bleach etc etc), eating the last of other ppls food (one time i got a dozen donuts and ate two, then when i came back not even 6hr later, the entire box was empty and no one had said a word to me, i had bought them for my sister who was visiting, who didnt get to have any), using the last of the toilet paper and instead of letting someone know or getting more, using paper towels (like were you raised in a barn?? Paper towels cannot go in the toilet), losing the only garage key when you shouldnt have even had it with you in the first place, and more that i cant even think of rn

So if you "feel like [your] at war constantly" then maybe stop doing shit that you know is going to start fights, aka stop stomping all over my boundaries

[the-firebird69]

You're still a dumb lazy f*** aren't you Dan the Man who are you out of here we have to get you out of here everybody has to pitch in together he puts devices everywhere and it stalls it out it starts making a whole bunch of s*** heads now these people are so God damn stupid you have to clean them out of there like they're crap in your toilet I am so sick of hearing from these pieces of s***

Jason

I understand something he does the stuff in his own people are sitting there probably to this piece of crap and kissing his ass is like no you don't do that cuz he's just putting stuff devices that threatening everybody when you do it and it's treason it's a hateful thing to say they say but they're investigating people for continuously cow towing to this piece of garbage. They say they have been and it's good because they see what he's doing and tons of people are involved now everybody on Earth is going after this idiot the clothes are bad enough but this idiot is a piece of absolute living s*** he knows that body building place everyday and they can't figure out he's going to be there you can't figure out that Trump's going to come in the door it's Mr Crowley why get a 2x4 hit him in the f****** head what does it take somebody in brains to figure one f****** loser out who can't find his way anywhere what's f****** wrong with you there's a problem with you is what I know you don't even fleshy losers I'm going to tear through you like you're not there that's what this p**** is putting out. I do it everyday to f****** shut your cat f***** :-) take your money floor this piece of f****** garbage thanks for being pussies okay. They turn around called me it says what is he talking about I said the f***** comes in there every day we're telling me to get rid of him turn around and punch him out and pull them out what the f*** are you doing what are you asking me for I'm ordering you everyday he's ordering his people get rid of that f****** loser. You look weak okay I will see on the phone he drops tons of them everyday like they're nothing they just sit there pissing and moaning why is he here what the f*** is wrong with my people you don't want to do anything you're afraid of a retard he's everybody's going after this because this stupid s***. I saw them drop what they're doing is this last round of shoulder pushing and they crushed him and ripped them out of their mist and went after them now they're going after him globally and they have a network and they're going after the with heavy guns they're doing just shoot the place up and have people pull them out all over the world

Mac

We know we're copying it we're taking care of business and we're not helping him by telling you here at all this guy gets up and starts going riding his face I got to tell you something he's going to have to punch him out in the end we don't want him to have to but holy s*** you know send people to do the job and stop telling me to do it to have you do it, I'm starting to follow what I'm saying. And it's frustrating but I'm ordering people to do it and they're not doing it now you find people that do it Frank Castle hardcastle do it it's been defamed by this piece of s*** so many times instead of it as a punisher I just haven't punished him and do the damn job every day over and over until this a****** can't freaking stalk me looking freaking Lady Gaga or something well f****** human f****. So I get something you are a f****** little b**** and we're going to take care of you. I'm sending troopsy now ordering something people have gotten huge huge groups together to go after you it really mac you're going to regret this you're so stupid right now letting us handle all this stuff, now force is to handle your turd and by the way we go after just about everybody because of stupid attitude about retards we can't do anything ooh we can't stand it at all it's worse than this m*********** way worse than this m*********** he's nothing compared to that stupid s*** and we take all that stuff that he wanted from the clones every single little morsel cuz that's how you think it's really advanced stupid s*** is from primordial ooze. Send a ride over you we're going to get rid of you buddy you're a huge f****** pain in the ass he's right too I keep telling him what's wrong with him and said please just get rid of make yourself feel better inform teams get rid of them order it every every time it's needed but it maintain it... We're going to get rid of him and we're going to take over his positions I'm sick of it isn't it ordering it and ordering it and ordering it I see why this numbnuts is just going to keep coming keep making devices and they don't listen to anybody or any math it's dangerous so I'm going to take care of business

Thor Freya

[contentconsumer]

Hi! Can I request number 28 with Steve buuuuut maybe reader saying it? If not totally fine, thank you!!!!!

heya, here it is! i wrote this in about 30 mins so i do apologise if it's lacking detail or proper scene setting but i just thought it was cute.

if you wanna request a blurb, you can find my prompt list here and send me an ask! gif not mine but the shitty writing is <3

the house was positively shaking as the bass of the music flowed through it. the shaking mixed with the heat from other peoples bodies began to make you feel nauseous, definitely nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol you had drank hours earlier. you were standing with a friend, around the edge of the living room as the wave of sickness came over you, immediately pressing your body back to a standing position to see if that would help, when it didn’t you mumbled a small, “i’m gonna throw up” before fleeing to the upstairs bathroom. once in there with the door locked you produced your stomach’s contents into the toilet bowl. after sitting against the cool tiles you began to feel a lot better. it then dawned on you that you had just projectile vomited into a toilet belonging to a boy you shared a math class with, in your drunken state you couldn’t even remember his name. figures. it was at this realisation you decided you didn’t really want to be at the party anymore, the friends you came with had all wandered off with others and you began to miss your boyfriend steve. you begged him to come to this party tonight but he firmly rejected your offer, opting to instead hang out with robin at his. for the first time in the night you kind of wished you had chosen the same option. despite this, you decided to make the best out of your night, forcing your wobbling legs down the stairs and back to your friend who was waiting for you, holding two red solo cups. 

she waves them in your face before asking, “feeling any better?” “you wouldn’t believe how sometimes a good puke is'' you laugh, “perfect, now lets dance common” your friend pulls you by the wrist into the makeshift dance floor, while you throw out some apologise to the people she’s swinging in to. once situated in the middle of the floor, you began to dance. 

before you knew it, an hour had past as your friend was talking about going back to some boys place, it was at this moment you concluded was the right time to phone steve to pick you up. moving through the house, with a new found excitement, you reach for the landline - dialling the number you had memorised for times like this. “hello?” steve’s voice rings through your ear, silencing any background noise, “heyyyyy steve” “y/n?” he questions, confusion evident in his tone, “everything okay?” the confusion quickly shifts to concern, “yeah all good here but i was wondering if maybe just maybe you could come pick me up? i’m drunk” your words accidentally slur slightly, “i thought y/f/n was dropping you home?” you can hear him start to move around, getting his wallet and keys, “she’s running off with some stranger in approximately 15 minutes so i thought it would be best if i found my own way back” you start to wrap the telephone cord around your finger, “sure no worries, i’ll be there in 10. but y/n?” “yeah?” you hum, “whats the address again?” shit. “one second,” you trail off, eyes desperately looking for your friend, once they land on her you beckon her over, “what?” “where the fuck are we?” “1123 sickamore street, tim’s house” tim. ohh- that’s his name. “did you catch that?” you bring the phone back to your ear, all you can hear is steve’s deep chuckle from the receiver, “yeah i got it. i’ll be there soon” 

you’re waiting outside by the time steve’s car pulls up, the cold slightly nipping at your cheeks as you slide into the passenger seat, a lazy smile across your face, “drunk huh?” steve teases, “shut up and take me home harrington” you place kiss on his cheek, “no way y/n” steve laughs, “no way what?” you pout, “no way am i dropping you home, obviously drunk-” “i’m not obviously drunk” “you almost fell twice walking from the curb to my car. anyway as i was saying, no way am i dropping you home to your dad who doesn’t really like me when you’re meant to be staying at a friends house and your drunk.”but-” “no buts” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, “you can stay at mine and i’ll drop you home tomorrow. sober.” “but what about your movie night with robin?” “babe it’s 2am, movie night ended 3 hours ago when i dropped her home. look we’re almost here now anyway” you take note of how close you are too steve house before you feels your eyelids start to droop.

steve sighs as the sight of your sleeping figure, after parking his car he goes round to your side and reaches across you to unbuckle your seatbelt, taking you in his arms bridal style he mentally curses his parents for putting his bedroom up so many flights of stairs. upon reaching his room, he quickly gets you changed into your favourite shirt of his and tucks you into bed. he laughs to himself at the fact you didn’t even stir once. he shakes his head before going to lock the front door. once he returns, he slides in next to you and even in your sleep you stretch your arm across his torso, pulling your body into his. his fingers thread through your hair as he looks at you with admiration and mentally makes a promise to himself to remind you of this in the morning. but right now, he feels himself relax in his favourite place - by your side. he may of told you he wasn’t dropping you home due to your insobriety but part of it was actually because he loves laying here, with you tucked into him and his arms protectively around you.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[maddiwrites]

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll. 

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!! 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas. 

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought. 

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner. 

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first. 

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning. 

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead. 

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences. 

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time. 

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags. 

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid. 

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement. 

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes. 

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it. 

“Dude!” 

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of. 

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different. 

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump. 

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him. 

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him. 

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified. 

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards. 

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating. 

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting. 

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one. 

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster. 

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach. 

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night. 

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back? 

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his. 

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive. 

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally. 

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper. 

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope. 

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip. 

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to. 

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you. 

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second. 

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

[greta-van-chaos]

Forget Me Not

Pairing | Josh Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Mild description of a panic attack, mentions of cancer (during a backstory part, it isn't a running theme)

~

The flashing lights, loud music, and constant, relentless chatter of everyone around me sends my head spinning. I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? I grip the wall next to me, my vision blurring from tears which subsequently throws me off balance. I need to get away from the noise and all of the people, huddling in clumps around the house. I see my friend and squeeze behind someone, my back pressed against the wall of the living room. When I make it to her my hands are shaking and hot tears are streaking my face. "Where's the bathroom" The end of my sentence catches in my throat and comes out as a bit of a squeal as I try to hold back the sobs begging to wrack through my entire body.

"Woah, Y/n, are you okay?" Her brown eyes shimmer with worry that is slightly diluted by her alcohol consumption.

"Just-" I take a deep breath and close my eyes, gripping her arm to ground myself. "Where is the bathroom."

She feels me tense under her and a sob makes it way past my lips, she doesn't waste another second "Go upstairs, first door on the right. The ones down here won't give you very much privacy. Make sure to get some water when you come back down"

I nod and silently push past the dense crowd of people that are populating the front hallway to get to the stairs. My body feels weak as I force myself up each step, my legs now shaking. Finally I reach the bathroom and I slam the door shut behind me. I debate sitting on the floor but decide against it so I can wash my face. The small amount of make up that I put on has already been ruined by the tears so I opt to wipe it all off. I didn't dress for the occasion, a causal pair of jeans with a tank top and a cardigan. The most interesting and eye-catching thing about my outfit is my bold red lip which is now smeared onto my cheek, I sigh as I rub my lips aggressively with a wet piece of toilet paper but it just makes it worse. I take an elastic off of my wrist and pull my hair up into a bun then I turn on the tap and cup my hands, splashing my face with freezing cold water. I sigh again, the cool water contrasting perfectly with my flaming skin. Instead of attempting to get the rest of my lipstick off I sit down on the cool tile floor with my back against the bathtub and put my head between my knees.

I jump when I hear the door open and when I look up more tears rush to my eyes. The man at the door spews out a string of apologies but I stop him. "Josh?"

His eyes meet mine and he surveys my face for a moment before his eyes gleam with recognition. "Y/n?" He steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, taking a seat in front of me. "Holy shit, I haven't seen you in-"

"Six years" I finish for him, a stray tear rolling down my cheek. He reaches up and brushes it away with his thumb and I lean in to his touch. Josh and I go way back. Before he moved away we were around each other all the time, our parents were best friends so we grew up together. We were going out unofficially at the end of highschool but... that's when he moved away. We were in a band with his two brothers and our shared friend Danny. I planned to move with them but my mother fell ill with cancer mere months before we planned to go. I stayed with her until she met her end, from then until now I've been stuck here with nowhere to go.

"Damn, I can't believe it's been so long." He runs his fingers through his curly hair and sighs, then looks up at me with a worried expression, seeming to remember that he walked in on me crying "What's wrong mama? Why are you crying?"

I smile at the nickname and brush away another stray tear that begins to creep down my cheek. "This party is just so overwhelming. I don't really know why I came..."

"Yeah, you never were a big fan of parties" He hums a laugh, looking at the wall as if recalling a memory. "Can I do anything to help?"

I sigh and hang my head "I don't think so"

"Here, I can help you get your lipstick off, were you just using water?" I nod and meet his eyes, he's sitting forward on his knees, digging in his pockets. He comes up with a stick of lip balm and smiles triumphantly. "This will help" He uncaps the balm and brings it to my lips before stopping short "May I?" I smile and tip my head up so he has better access to my lips. He slowly runs the stick along my bottom lip and then my top lip, carefully tracing within the lines. It's a very sensual act and I can't help the wave of chills that raise goosebumps of my arms. He smiles when he's fully coated them and grabs some toilet paper, wrapping it around his hand so its layered thick. "I'm gonna have to hold your head" He says and I nod. He is true to is word as he holds the back of my neck to keep my head from moving, dabbing the toilet paper along my lips and then folding it more and wiping. He pulls the now reddened paper away from my face and throws it out, reapplying more lip balm and restarting the cycle of wiping it away. We're so close in this moment and it reminds me of how much I've missed his presence. The air is practically electric and swimming with the longing that has resurfaced in both of us.

When he throws away the last piece of toilet paper he holds me at arms length to admire his work. "All better now."

I lift my fingers to my lips and swipe them along the slightly irritated flesh, smiling when they come away clean. "Where did you learn that?"

"I don't really know, I just saw someone do it one time." I smile at his softness.

"I've really missed you Josh" I confess, averting his gaze.

"I've missed you too, I wish we didn't stop calling each other like that" I nod in agreement. He's referring to when we promised to talk everyday... but days became weeks, weeks became months and now it's six years later and we're complete strangers.

A beat of silence envelops us as I take in his features, he's still sitting on his knees, our faces indecently close. His face looks more defined now and the small bit of facial hair present on his upper lip and chin suit him surprisingly well. His hair has gotten longer and it's way curlier than I've ever seen, I bite back the urge to run my fingers through it like he did earlier. His lips were always my favorite feature, full with a strong cupids bow. I find myself staring at his mouth and he licks his lips subconsciously, my stomach churns with longing.

When I meet his eyes again he's staring at me. The tension is like a rubber band, pulled so taut it is begging to be snapped. I take the initiative and bring scissors to the rubber band, cutting the tension by pressing my lips to his. I can tell he's taken aback by the way his body jolts and I try to pull away but he grabs the back of my head with one hand and my upper arm with the other holding me against him. I plant one hand on his thigh and bring my other up to card my fingers through his curls. He hums against me when I slide my hand down to the nape of his neck. Neither of us offer to pull away, we're both so entranced by the kiss and all of the lost time we're making up for. Not once had we shared a kiss, the tension was always there and now we have the opportunity to act on it.

I finally pull away. "I wish you never left," I say, peering at him with glassy eyes, drawing my knees up to my chest.

His face takes on a sad expression. "I wish you came with us"

"I do too. You know I would have if my mom wasn't so sick" I whisper, averting my eyes to look at my feet over the tops my knees.

"Y/n" My name sounds so effortless and sweet on his tongue, it raises goosebumps on my arms when our eyes lock. I nod to allow him to continue what he was going to say. "I love you" His words are barely a whisper.

My heart feels like it's being ripped from my chest... but in a good way. I nod my head fervently, unable to form words as more tears track down my cheeks. I lower my knees and throw myself into his arms, wrapping them around his neck. He falls back and we both laugh as we lay on the bathroom floor. "I love you too" I say through tears "I'm so glad you're back Josh" I sit back and allow him to regain his kneeling position. "I thought you'd forgotten about me, after we stopped calling each other" I admit, my cheeks turning red.

"How could I forget about you? We grew up together"

"You guys are all big and famous, figured you would find some pretty LA girl and forget about your hometown sweetheart"

"Y/n, I will never forget about you."

I smile and ruffle his hair "I love your new look so much, your hair and-" I draw my fingers along the light facial hair on his chin and upper lip "-this suits you so well"

His cheeks are a light pink when I pull my hand away and I smile even wider at how adorable he is. "Thank you" He mumbles bashfully. Josh always had the power to make me smile, that's one thing he'll never lose. Within minutes of seeing him he's already helped me push through a panic attack. I bring my hand to his face again, drawing my finger tips along his lips.

"Come back to Nashville with us," He blurts out, both of our eyes widen at his forwardness but he frowns "I don't want to ever be apart again."

"Josh" I whisper, my voice wavering slightly, tears once again threatening to fall.

"I mean it, I know us meeting here wasn't just an off chance, it was fate."

His face is serious and for what seems like the millionth time tonight more tears slip from my eyes. I hug him tightly, holding him as close as I can "Of course I'll come. There's nothing here for me anyways."

~

I wake up to sunlight pouring through my blinds and I rub my eyes, throwing the covers off of me. I run through the events of the party and smile at the memory of Josh and my first kiss. I never knew I could be so happy until I saw him again, barging into the bathroom. I laugh at the memory and pull myself out of bed, heading to the kitchen to get a much needed cup of coffee. On the kitchen counter is little jar full of water and small, pale blue flowers. There's also a card leaned up against the glass.

How could I have forgotten you? What a silly thing to think.

Josh's name is scrawled at the bottom of the card is messy cursive and it takes me a moment to see that the flowers are forget me nots. Smiling I twirl one between my fingers and ponder the many ways that Josh could have gotten into my house without a key, but that doesn't matter right now because I've finally been reunited with the person I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with.

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[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

Blame it on the Alcohol

Pairing: Jay Halstead/Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Vomiting

Words: ~1500

Description: Just shameless drunk flirting with the best-looking cop in Chicago.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re sexy.” You slur, swigging back the last of your vodka cranberry.

“Hey Herrmann, I’ll t-take anotha!” You slide your glass across the counter of the bar, relieved to see the firefighter catch it before smashing into a hundred pieces on the floor.

“Nope. No more. I’m officially cutting you off.” Jay grabs the crumpled $5 bill from your hand.

“Ey, that better be half my tip there!” Herrmann interrupts, slamming down a cup of water in front of you. “Drink that, kiddo.”

You pout your lip realizing that the two were in cahoots to restore your sobriety, but still took the cool glass to press against your parched lips.

“You’re such a party pooper.” You kick Jay playfully under the bar. “I was just celebrating my best friend’s birthday!”

You peer past Jay to look at Sylvie, your ambo partner, who was swallowing back another Jell-O shot given to her by Dawson.

“I don’t understand how someone that small can take so much alcohol.” Jay laughs, having turned around to see what you were so intrigued with.

Your eyes glare at Jay as he takes in Sylvie’s skimpy red dress. You quickly stop staring as he turns back around, his gaze glancing to the still-full cup of water beside you.

“Drink that. All of it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You tease, pushing the glass further away.

“I mean it Y/N. Don’t really feel like taking care of the case of alcohol poisoning you’re about to get.”

“And what if I don’t? Are ya gonna arrest me?”

Jay smiles. “I just might.”

“Better whip out your handcuffs then.” You regret it the moment the words leave your mouth, your face burning hot in embarrassment.

You reach for your water, averting your eyes far from the detective, chugging down the drink. “I uh- I have to use the bathroom.”

Standing up from the stool a little too fast, your feet crossing awkwardly as you try to stand. You would have nosedived to the floor if it wasn’t for Jay’s strong arms and fast reflexes quickly shooting out of his seat to catch you.

“You good?” He asks.

Staring into his eyes causes a bubbling feeling to rise in your chest, that you first mistake as butterflies, but quickly realize is nausea working its way up your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you make a beeline to the bathroom, wriggling free from Jay’s protective hold on you. You dash past several concerned glances, ignoring your surroundings as you fall hard to your knees in front of the toilet, surely bruising them in the process.

What comes up from your stomach is a mixture of fruity cocktails and greasy food and you note that you’ll never again be eating a cheese blintz prepared by Brian Zvonecek’s baba again.

You hear the large wooden door to the bathroom open, expecting it to be Sylvie, or perhaps Gabby, but seeing Jay walk in caught you by surprise and you scramble to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe any spew that may have landed on your chin, instead of the bowl.

“This is the woman’s room.” You really don’t want to be seen by anyone in your current state, especially not Detective Jay Halstead.

“It’s okay, I have a warrant.”

“Very funny.” You try to stand, but a wave of alcohol-induced dizziness takes over you.

“You okay?” Jay asks.

“Never better.” You reach up to flush away the toilet-full of skinny margaritas.

“Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Excuse me?” Jay cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re a cop. You should have made me stop after the third drink.”

Jay smirks, walking across the floor and gently grabbing your arm, helping you stand. You fall into him as the dizziness washes over you again, smiling as he hugs you closer. “I took your keys after the first drink.” He announces, pulling them from his pocket and dangling them in front of you. “Figured I’d let you have some fun.”

“You went into my purse? Getting a little comfortable there, aren’t you officer?”

“I’m off duty. Don’t want to have to write you up for drinking and driving.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. Just being cautious. I think it’s time we get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s only midnight! The party just started!”

“Don’t make me carry you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jay smiles as he puts both arms around your waist, ready to lift you over his shoulders. You panic as you feel the nausea floating around in your stomach at the sudden change of motion. “No! Jay don’t please! I will throw up on you.”

He lets go, keeping one hand on your shoulder, afraid of you falling over.

“I need to grab my coat. I have a long walk home.”

“Ha. Walking. Funny.” Jay states, grabbing his own set of keys. “I’m driving you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“It’s not a discussion.”

“I’ll take a cab!” You exclaim, though your brain reminds you of the last $80 in your bank account that you did not want to blow on a taxi.

“You have a free cab right here.” Jay says motioning to himself before waving goodnight to Sylvie and the many emergency responders jampacked into Molly’s. He guides you outside, carefully leading you down the steps making sure you don’t slip, smashing your head onto the icy concrete below.

After ensuring your seatbelt is secured, after you had struggled with it for several minutes, he takes his place in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the small lot.

“You were supposed to make a left there.” You point out, realizing Jay had driven the wrong direction towards your apartment.

“Uh, Nope.”

“I know I’m drunk, but I still know where I live.”

“Oh, we’re not going to your place.”

“Huh?”

“You’re crashing at my house.”

“What?”

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit alone.”

“So nice of you to care, but I don’t really want to sleep on your tiny sofa. I can imagine the pain in my neck already…”

“Who said you have to sleep on the couch?”

“Well, considering you live in a 1-bedroom.”

“You can take my bed. As long as you don’t puke in it.”

You chuckle, butterflies rising in your stomach as you stare at your knight-in-shining-armor. “I don’t think I can guarantee that I won’t.”

“Well, I’m prepared to burn my sheets then.”

“If you weren’t driving, I’d punch you.”

“Assaulting an officer and public intoxication. Real nice, Y/N.”

“Ooooh better punish me then, tough guy.”

Jay’s face blushes as he grins at you, side-eyeing your nervous expression.

“I mean, I could spank you, but I think that would be considered police brutality.”

You choke on nothing but air, thinking you misheard the handsome red head.

“I beg your pardon?”

“So, are you only going to flirt with me when you’re drunk? Am I too ugly for you sober? Don’t think I didn’t hear that handcuff comment earlier.”

“I-“ You can barely speak, embarrassment flooding your thoughts from working correctly.

Jay chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing till you sleep it off.”

“I- Um. Thanks? How kind of you?”

You throw your head back against the seat and close your eyes, trying to block out the streetlights flickering past your eyes as you drive down the snowy Chicago streets.

“I’m going to have such a headache in the morning.”

“Good thing my brother’s a doctor. He can get you the strong stuff.”

“Sometimes I don’t know when you’re joking.”

You smile at Jay as he finally pulls up to his apartment. He goes to open the car door before you pull him towards you by his jacket, thrusting your lips against his own, perhaps a little too hard. He’s taken aback, but quickly grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. Several seconds pass before you pull away, unsure of what drove you to do that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” Jay shakes his head, blushing. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

Jay exits the car, rounding the vehicle and opening the door for you on your side. You stay seated for a moment as he looks at you questioningly. “C’mon Y/N, it’s freezing.”

“I just… I was thinking.”

“Huh? About what?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight, either.”

“Oh?” Jay grabs your hand, pulling you out of the car and pulling you into his chest.

“What do you have a Queen? I think there’s plenty of room for two people.”

“King, actually.”

“Okay well, we are not making it 3.”

“We’ll leave that up for debate.” Jay winks, helping you inside to the warm building, still clutching you close against the winter air.

[wizkiddx]

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

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