Here He Goes Again

the most overworked man in the galaxy and his brother who is a furry with the sickest eye scar

Busy || a bit rusty on my painting skills but I’m happy how it turned out. :]

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/USE MY WORK

I cried 😭😭

You Overhear Him Talk About You Part 3

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A/N: hi babes! I just want to thank you for the amount of love and feedback I’ve received for this series! I’m so happy to hear y’all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! As per countless requests, here is part 3! Sorry for any errors. As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Reading💜

For those who are interested, I will link the previous parts here:

Part 1 Part 2

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After what seemed like the millionth time for the night, Tom decided that the he would put a pause on his barrage of texts and calls and try again in the morning.

He did not want to sleep in what was before your shared bedroom, shivering at the thought if the empty and frigid room, your happy memories haunting him; so he settled into the couch. As he struggled for a somewhat comfortable position, his mind went to the memories of the ordeal that had just unfolded the past 48 hours.

“you should’ve came to me”

“how am I supposed to be okay when the person I love is ashamed of being with me”

“have I really done you wrong”

“was it necessary to make me look that bad”

“it’s clear you’re ashamed of dating me, so I’ll do both of us a favor and just leave”

Your voice rang through his mind, the heartbrokenness evident. He remembered how shaky your voice was, quivering at the immeasurable amount of pain and shame that engrossed your entirety.

You woke up a couple of hours later groaning at the fact that in the midst of all that had transpired, you managed to sleep a total of only 5 hours. You were exhausted, beyond all measure, your groans escaping your lips out of pure annoyance. Your body clearly had other plans but to rouse you from your slumber and run through all that has happened and how you ended up here.

Instinctively, you reached over the bedside table for your phone.

        3:23 am.

        53 missed calls, 48 voicemails, 88 messages

You didn’t have to wonder or guess as to who could possibly bombard you with 189 notifications, you knew who the culprit was.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the phone screen in your palm. You let out an exasperated sigh as you transfixed your body into a fetal position praying that by some miracle your body will succumb to the sleep it so desperately wants and needs.  You had no energy left in you to entertain your mind and its calls for you to read through the texts and listen to the voicemails.

<hours later>

You awoke to the sun shining through, illuminating your hotel room. You rolled out of bed and made your way to the bathroom. You took in your appearance; bloodshot and swollen eyes, a red nose, flushed face and hair sticking out in all directions. You saw your reflection, you absorbed every single detail of the aftermath, ingraining your appearance into a folder in your mind, only opening into the late hours of the night, keeping you company in your new state of loneliness.

You shut off the light and slogged back into bed. You buried yourself into the duvet and began to feel the heaviness of your eyelids, welcoming the sleep you desperately needed.

Tom’s POV

C’mon Tom. Try again, even if she doesn’t answer. I can’t give up, we can’t go out, not like this. Call her, text her, whatever it is, just don’t give up. This is worth fighting for, she is worth fighting for. Please answer me, babe. Please.

He called you again, texted you as well. You saw his contact picture and watched your phone ring, watching go from “incoming call” to “missed call”.

That was how your day went, with you curled up in the bed, phone in hand, waiting, watching him try his best to get in contact with you. He has to give up at some point, right?

<short time skip>

Y/N’s POV

For the past 72 hours or so, trying to fall asleep  was next to impossible. My head was filled with several thoughts and “what ifs” constantly flooding into my brain. I turned on my phone and scrolled through my Instagram feed, trying to tire myself. It never worked. I repeated this theory every night thinking that I would have an epiphany on ways to fall asleep. I knew that it was beginning to become a problem when I eventually dozed off at half past four, leaving me two and a half hours before morning. I awoke with no problem, but my eyes were bloodshot as usual and defined with a heavy black crease which under each which I had  given up trying to hide with concealer.

<Saturday>

It was that time again, that dreaded day where I was scheduled to work another arduous and exhausting 12 hour shift. It’s been about 5 days since I last saw him, since I last spoke to him; these 5 days seem like eternity. Within that 5 day period, I had a lot of time to myself, time to really think what is left of Tom and Y/N. Was this the end? Is this how we end?

Thankfully, I always carried a extra pair of scrubs in my car, so it saved me the inevitable trip back to our place- err, his place.

I quickly went to get ready and before I knew it, I was out the door and on my way to the elevators.

As soon as I got to the unit, I took in the scene and atmosphere before me. It was a bit busy, but it was doable. Now you see, in healthcare, we cannot say the “q word” (quiet) once that word is in the air, all hell breaks loose.

Here we go, shift, please be good to me, I beg you.

Midway through my shift, I can feel the tiredness inside me like a worm, slowly but deliberately draining my life. I see, but I don’t think much of it. I hear, but I’m not really listening.  Everything seems to move in a dragged pace, all submerged into a hazy fuzz that is my vision.

Self diagnosing myself with insomnia, I come to the realization the severity and sheer magnitude of insomnia and its effects; it turns you into a living zombie. I’ve been awake, praying that somehow, some way, I would’ve been cancelled at work today and didn’t have to go in.

“Why do you look so tired?” said the night shift nurse who was giving report to me.

“It’s been a rather long week” I quickly replied, ending the conversation.

She just nodded and continued on with report for her remaining patients.

It was during your lunch break that you felt your phone buzzing.

It was an incoming call from him.

You sighed, and placed your phone back into your pocket. Making sure to put it on ‘Do Not Disturb’

You carried on with the remainder of your shift, thankful that all was okay with your patients with no new admissions.

The next few hours flew by and before you knew it, you were giving report to the nurse next shift and you were making your way out of your unit and into your car.

You took out your phone, to no surprise, you were greeted with 20 voicemails and 25 texts.

You exhaled, he was going to keep trying to get ahold of you until you gave in and picked up, or at least even sent him back a text.

You read his last text.

Tom: Y/N, hi. When you get the chance please call me/text me. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I love you.

This was it, this was the moment you were going to finally reply to him.

Y/N: hi, T. ‘m alright, can we meet up to talk?

Within seconds of you hitting send, you saw the infamous three dots, he was replying.

Tom: wow, you actually replied back. Thank you, happy to hear you’re okay. Yeah, wanna come by the apartment?

Y/N: okay, on my way

Tom: okay, sounds good. See you in a bit

You took the long way to the apartment, your mind thinking of every possible way/any plausible excuse you could conjure up so you didn’t have to see him.

About an hour later, you arrived at what used to be your shared apartment.

You got out of your car and slowly began your way up the steps and to the front door. You felt weird just entering, feeling like you were barging in(although in reality, you weren’t, this is your home too) so you knocked.

It wasn’t long before you heard him unlock the door, you saw him display a look of what seemed like confusion, but he quickly brushed it off and move aside a bit, making space for you to enter.

You stood at your spot awkwardly until he offered you to take a seat on the couch.

You slowly made your way to your seat on the couch, waiting for him to get situated, praying that he initiated this long awaited conversation so this meeting could be over.

You sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, both of you not knowing what to say/how to start.

The awkwardness was unbearable that you caved in and decided to speak first.

“I don’t really know how to start this, there’s a million thoughts going through my mind right now, let’s hope I don’t forget something” you let out a big sigh before continuing on again.

“I still stand by what I said, if this was truly an issue, you should’ve came to me. You should’ve just told me. You don’t know how much it hurt to find out the way I did, through a conversation with your best friend. Do you understand how embarrassing this is? And I still stand by my decision, I think it’d be best if we just end things” I spoke, noticing it become just above a whisper

“I am so sorry, babe. Really, truly am.I’m not ashamed of being with you, you have to believe me.  I know, I should’ve came to you. I am sorry. But please. Please, don’t do this. Please, we can get through this. I love you” he let out quickly.

“I’m so sorry T, but I can’t. How do I know you’re telling the truth this time? I don’t think I can be in this relationship with many doubts racing through my mind, you’ve embarrassed me tremendously. I do hope you find the one person who you aren’t ashamed of. Bye, Tom. Take care.” you spoke, tears flowing ceaselessly, as you made your way to the front door.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please believe me, I’m telling you the truth. I am not ashamed of being with you.”

“Please Tom, please stop. Don’t make this anymore painful” you begged

“Before you go, can I please just hold you, hug you one last time?”

You didn’t say a word, you just stood frozen in place, with your hand on the doorknob.

In the blink of an eye, he stood before you, opening his arms and holding you one last time.

A single tear slid down from his warm, butterscotch eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it’s way down his pale cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of him for all this time but still he did not make a sound. He sobbed into you chest unceasingly, hands clutching at your jacket.

You held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked your chest. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his grief.

She stood in his arms for a few minutes before untangling herself from his grasp.

She hugged him one last time before she set out for the door, and out of his life forever.

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Taglist:

@mac-demarco1 @judemoos @hollandechart @sarcasticbitchs-things @crimsonredcoco @paigeyisme @choke-me-sweet-pea @kweenkadence @fresh-princess-of-hogwarts @thelaziestgeek @greenarrowhead @hotsterfield @sparklydeanclampalace @itsyaboi-tom @yorkeylover @littlebookbengal @moonlightom @hollanderheart @qxeen-of-hearts @smexylemony @let-me-luve-you @allieandcoffee @beautifulwisdom2001 @hazeyholland @fangirl-with-a-mission @justyourfriendlygirlnextdoor @captainbuckyy @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @marvelismylifffe @marvel-winchester17 @yourlocaldan @darlingtholland @motivated-undereducated-hated @lemondropirwin @sleepybesson @delicately-important-trash @panicatthemarvell

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SHUT THE FRONT DOOR

Inspired by the amazing fanfic Stick Together by @returnofahsoka over on AO3

Cant recommend enough! I just really wanted to get some practice with drawing comics. And what better way to do that then with my current obsession!

Redraw this image Grogu is ready to be a mandalorian 🫶🫶

[Star Wars: Bad Batch ⚠️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2⚠️]

Too long without mom makes for an unhappy squad.

I know there's no like Canon confirmation on how old the Bad Batch are but I think the younger they are the funnier it is that Rex punched Crosshair in the face. Like.

Rex: *spends the entire show being level headed, dependable, and reliable.*

Crosshair: *opens his goddamn mouth*

Rex:

The Wingman - part 6

(a/n) I am speechless. I just can’t believe how well this story is going. I would have never expected it to be received so well (especially the last part, wow) Thank you so much for sending in all the ideas and suggestions in my survey. I decided to make this a thing now. I won’t be posting the link on the post since I’m kind of scared what Tumblr will do, but it should be somewhere around on my blog. 

I don’t even know if this makes sense, but I like it, so I’m sticking with this story.

word count: 6944

warning: get ready for tears, drama, heartbreak and all that jazz! oh yeah, also swearing, alcohol uhm…

amazing moodboard made by @fratboievans ilysm!

Yeah, you used to call me baby, now you calling me-

Tom took his phone out of his pocket and skipped the song before the first lyric even finished. Immediately a Post Malone song started which he didn’t remember the name of anymore. He stepped out of the elevator, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. He had been up for hours with no proper break. He was exhausted and couldn’t wait to get into bed. His heart was beating along with the loud music coming from his wireless headphones. Or did the pace at which the cardiac muscle move, have nothing to do with the music?

The hallway was empty. The more he walked on, it felt like it was just elongating instead of nearing the door to his and Harrison’s shared suite. His eyelids were really starting to feel heavy. It was probably only the music that kept him up. With a little smack on the cheek, he tried to pull himself together.

The white door was finally in front of him. He pulled out the key from his other pocket and held it against the scanner. The familiar click of the lock was accompanied by the little green light appearing above the scan. Tom pushed the door open, pulling his headphones off and letting them hang around his neck. The music still played on. He could hear the whispers of it.

Next to the door, he saw something he hadn’t seen in a while. Harrison’s backpack. This meant that he got his things back. Which in correlation should mean that he had talked to (Y/N). Tom started to wonder how his best friend’s day had gone. Hopefully better than his. Or at least less exhausting. Then he realized that Harrison’s keycard was lying on the little shelf next to the door. That meant that either Haz was home or he was out and forgot his key, the div.

“Harrison?” he asked. His voice was a bit shaky. There was no response. But from the sight of his keycard and the jacket hanging on the hanger, Tom knew his friend was home. He walked on, further into the suite. The little corridor spread into the big living room area and there he was. With her.

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