#and Tommy seems VERY comfortable in their house all of a sudden

[bucksboobs]

I would say it’s unrealistic to write a fic where Chris comes home after the summer only to find out Buck and Tommy have moved in but then I remembered Eddie canonically asked Marisol to move in within a week of Chris being out of town

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x reader who can control shadows

@klerns-birdie

Thomas Hewitt

• Thomas loved you with all his heart and cared about you, but to be honest, sometimes he was really scared of your ability to control shadows. It's not that he was afraid of you, no, he was just very worried about you.

• Other family members, in particular Hoyt, were quite delighted to learn about this ability of yours. Hoyt was glad that the chance of catching potential meat increased by a whopping 200%.

• Whenever you transform into your shadow self, Tommy is haunted by the fear that you won't come back. At such moments, it was as if an animal thirst for blood and violence really woke up in you, not that Thomas encouraged it. But he understood that all this was to protect the family, and the family always comes first.

• Thomas is extremely fond of physical contact with you. Because of your ability to control shadows, sometimes it seems that your skin is as cold as ice or grave earth, so he likes to squeeze your palms in his big ones and keep you warm.

• Thomas is a big boy, very big and big. Sometimes it's even embarrassing to watch when the victim manages to fool him and simply run away from home. It's at times like this that you show up. Such a sweet and fragile girl instantly turns into a cold-blooded killer with a crazy smile sparkling in the dark. Your translucent body gracefully moves softly and smoothly around the unsuspecting victim, and your shadows wrap cold tentacles around the body of the poor victim. You act quickly and accurately, and Thomas can only watch from afar as lingonberry drops of blood cover your dark body.

• After your little 'hunts', you turn back into your 'I' and smile, gently brushing the blood off your clothes. Thomas's heart swells with warmth from your sudden change of emotions. The way you tenderly examine him for wounds and tell him that everything is fine. Your shadows gently glide over his skin, causing goosebumps. Like the touch of a wet tongue, they calmed and brought a sense of comfort, because Thomas knew for sure that everything was under control.

Michael Myers

• Your abilities definitely arouse his genuine interest. He had spent his entire life in a hospital, so he could not even imagine that such a thing really existed.

• He will watch you and your shadows like a curious little child, but he will never admit this to you or ask you to show him anything at his request. In this regard, he is quite closed and does not know how to fully express his feelings.

• You and Michael have some kind of unspoken games like hide-and-seek or catch-up. There's something hot about him knowing that you're always watching him from the shadows. To know that you are watching his every move, every murder and stabbing, causes his body to tremble, and his breathing under the mask becomes rapid and moist. And he gladly accepts this challenge and looks for you in this dirty darkness, hoping at least this time to win this game of cat and mouse.

• Sometimes Michael gets so carried away with you that he forgets about the victim in front of him. The unfortunate man is trying to escape, but he does not even suspect your presence. You easily wrap your shadowy arm around the fragile throat and squeeze it to a nasty bone crunch. Michael lowers the bloody knife and listlessly watches the scene unfold in front of him, unable to contain a slight smile.

• After the murder, you slowly come out of you, your body turns back into its usual self, small droplets of blood flow down your face when the victim coughed up blood a little. You approach Michael and freely take him by the elbow, leading him towards the house through the deserted streets of the city at night. As if you were the most ordinary couple who had never done anything wrong. Michael feels your shadow wrapping around his waist, and it brings a sense of comfort.

• Michael is terribly fond of your coolness and cruelty with which you kill victims. Like a crow, shamelessly pecking out the eyes of sinners hanging on crosses. Sweet and dangerous at the same time. A wonderful combination, warming Michael's blood up.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo loves you madly. But this does not mean that he will talk about it directly. After all, since childhood he has had certain problems with aggression and the manifestation of his emotions and understanding of others. Therefore, sometimes he can be quite persistent and too clingy.

• He likes to make you jealous, knowing full well about your ability and cruelty. Bo can deliberately flirt with another tourist just to see how later your shadows will close around her delicate neck and tear the unfortunate girl into pieces of meat. This bloody show causes a pleasant shiver in his body. Perhaps he would also not mind if your gentle shadows and cold hands walked over his body.

• Bo really likes to realize that such an amazing and ambitious girl is his and only his. He doesn't intend to share you with anyone. If he's hanging around other girls (solely to annoy you), then he won't tolerate anyone else around you. If some new tourist gets too close to you, Bo will come up to you and put his arm around your waist, hugging you closer to him so that everyone around knows whose girl you are. It is better for this person to quickly understand his place if he does not want to die a very painful death.

• You often use your abilities just to tease him or get on his nerves. On the one hand, it annoys him, but on the other hand, he likes your attention, but he won't tell you about it. And he won't say that your cold weightless shadows on his skin cause pleasant sensations in his body. But you'll probably see it in his smug grin.

• You often go to his gas station when there are another couple of tourists on it. Seeing such a sweet, nice girl really calms future victims and weakens their vigilance. This strange man has such a sweet girl, obviously he only has a stern appearance, but a kind heart, there's nothing to worry about. Oh, how wrong they are, because it is this little sun with an innocent smile that poses a much greater danger to them. You'll be happy to hear the crunch of their bones under your tight grip a little later.

Vincent Sinclair

• Your cold shadows feel good on his scarred face. At first, he was worried about this and did not want to show you his face, but the tenderness with which you stroked his rough skin gave him a pleasant calm. He clung to those black tentacles like a little kitten craving affection. The touch was both cool and strangely warm and gentle, it sent shivers down his spine.

• At first, Vincent was afraid when you literally came out of nowhere, although in fact you just turned into a shadow and followed him almost everywhere. Over time, Vincent got used to it and even learned to find your presence in this sepulchral silence of the basement. He likes how your dark translucent body moves in the light of a dozen candles, how graceful and beautiful your body looks. He finds a strange comfort knowing that you are almost always there, watching him from the shadows. After one of the victims attacked him at the most unexpected moment and broke his mask, which led Vincent into a momentary stupor, he was incredibly grateful when you killed this scoundrel on the spot. It took him a few minutes to realize what was happening, but your gentle touch made everything bearable. Although now he will have to wipe off the blood and the basement floor, but these are just small things.

• You're like his guardian angel, his shadow protector. It's a very pleasant feeling. Vincent knows that you are always on the safe side, that you will always help him if necessary. Because of this, he tries to do everything carefully so that you enjoy the show presented to you in full.

• Sometimes you use your shadows to hide Vincent himself. It helps a lot when the victims find the basement themselves and do not suspect anything about the danger. This creates a good surprise effect. And the proximity of your body to his own gives comfort and a sweet aftertaste of the upcoming murder, because after Vincent's flesh and blood, your soothing cold hugs are always waiting.

• He likes that most of the time, because of your abilities and temperament, it is you who take the initiative and a more dominant role. Vincent loves it when you tell him what to do, when you gently touch him with your cold shadows, when you shower his skin with wet kisses, in stark contrast to the coldness of your cold hands and shadows.

• Sometimes he really worries about your cold hands because he's afraid you'll freeze. That's why he likes it when you spend time together in a warm, almost hot basement. Vincent also likes to sculpt wax with you, because the wax is warm, and it will definitely warm you up a little.

Ghostface

• Billy and Stu really like that you have such abilities. This is very suitable for their kind of activity and the image of a Ghostly face, so they almost immediately initiate you into their business. At first, of course, you don't really like it, but something inside you really wants it.

• They both like the surprise effect with which you kill an unsuspecting victim. One moment they were being chased by a tall man in a black suit and a ghost mask, and the next they were literally suffocated by cold air while your shadowy limbs grabbed the body of the unfortunate.

• After particularly successful kills, the boys clamp your still translucent shadow body between them like a sandwich. The blood from their suits is slowly soaking your clothes, but you didn't seem to care. The guys' hands slide over your body, hips and waist as they hold you closer to them. The sight of you covered in blood causes a sticky, almost animal desire inside them.

• Billy is usually a more reserved boy, while Stu relentlessly says all sorts of obscenities that you could do with your interesting ability. The idea that you can watch them while they're doing some personal stuff and they don't even know it makes them both damn hot.

• They love the horror that flashes in the eyes of the victims whenever you kill them with amazing dexterity and weariness. Guys love to take pictures of it. They have a whole photo album with similar pictures, one is better than the other. Stu even has his own collection of photos, but of a more explicit nature, which hangs above his bed in the bedroom.

[queenshelby]

Business As Usual (Part Six)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

During the drive, you distracted yourself from the pain by discussing what happened and why. You wanted to know whether your family was working against you and Shelby Company Limited and, much to your surprise, your husband admitted that certain members of your family strayed from the original agreement between your respective families. They had put you and Tommy's family into grave danger and Tommy told you that he would not stand for it.

Then, after a short drive, you arrived at the hospital. The building was a maze of corridors and staircases, filled with medical staff bustling about their duties. Despite the circumstances, you found solace in the familiar smell of disinfectant that hung heavy in the air.

The doctor attending to you was a woman named Dr. Miller. She was kind and compassionate, offering small smiles of encouragement throughout the procedure. You winced as she removed the bullet from your arm, but her soothing voice kept you grounded, helping you endure the excruciating pain with Tommy by your side.

His presence brought comfort, yet it heightened the sense of betrayal that lingered between you, and you were unsure by this point as to whom you could trust. 

He was there, yet he seemed miles away; distant, detached. You noticed that in his posture, his voice, his mannerisms—even his scent, masked by the sterile hospital environment.

"Considering the circumstances and the fact that you are currently with child, I recommend that you stay here for the night, Mrs Shelby," Dr. Miller suggested gently but you hesitated and shook your head.

"No, please, I want to go home," you insisted, your voice quivering with the weight of the events that had taken place. With everything that had transpired, you did not feel safe at a public place like this, but Tommy reassured you that he would arrange for appropriate security, even if you were to decide to stay at the hospital. 

"You should stay here Love. You need to rest, and you most certainly need proper medical care, eh," he insisted, running a tender finger up and down your arm, a light touch that sent chills down your spine. His sudden tenderness surprised you as, ever since you were forced to marry one another, he had been rather cold towards you, and yet, you shook your head and pulled your arm away from him. 

"As I said Thomas, I want to go home," you repeated, this time more sternly and with a glare thrown in his direction. "You either drive me back to Arrow House or I will make alternate arrangements," you said while watching as the muscles in Tommy's jaw visibly tensed and clenched, a sure sign that he was annoyed by your obstinacy.

"Fine," he grumbled reluctantly, casting a brief glance at the nurse stationed near the entrance to your room. "I'll take you home. But you must promise me to rest, eh?" Tommy demanded and you hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement.

"Mr Shelby, with respect, I strongly advise that your wife stays overnight for observation," Dr. Miller reiterated her suggestion, a firm conviction echoing in her voice but Tommy explained to her that you were determined to leave.

"I will arrange for her to be monitored at home by one of your nurses," he told her before producing a bundle of cash from his pocket and placing it discreetly on the counter.

Dr. Miller casted a questioning glance at Tommy and then at her nurse, silently communicating the unspoken agreement.

"Very well, Mr Shelby," she conceded reluctantly while accepting the payment without batting an eyelid. "I will send Nurse Dawson over to administer medication and monitor your wife's condition. Please remember that she needs complete rest and should avoid stress at all costs."

"Thank you, Doctor," Tommy responded curtly before guiding you out of the ward.

You glanced back at the enigmatic doctor, who gave you a warm smile and a nod, wishing you a speedy recovery. Once you were seated in the car, Tommy fastened your seatbelt carefully, his expression softening as he studied your face. "Are you alright, Love?" he asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

You swallowed thickly, fighting back the tears welling up in your eyes. "I am fine," you croaked, raising a weak hand to wipe away the stinging wetness accumulating near your right eye.

You'd always been tough, steeling yourself against whatever life threw at you, but the relentless strain of recent months had worn you thin.

A gentle nod was your only response, the understanding in Thomas's eyes mirroring the pain in yours. It was difficult to believe that just hours earlier, you'd been embroiled in a dangerous standoff, armed with pistols and ready to strike down your enemies. Now, as you sat quietly in the passenger seat, your thoughts drifted back to the turbulent three months that had transformed your life irrevocably.

The car accelerated smoothly through the foggy streets of Birmingham, weaving effortlessly through patches of damp road. You stole a sideways glance at Tommy, only to find him gazing out onto the rain-slicked pavement, lost in his musings.

The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with unsaid words and pent-up emotions. A single tear trickled down your cheek, mingling with the sweat on your skin. You reached up and wiped it away with the back of your hand, hoping desperately that Tommy wouldn't notice your distress.

You wanted to seem strong and unbreakable, uncaring about what he had done to you, but holding up this kind of facade had become increasingly difficult. 

Every time you blinked, you could see his betrayal staring back at you like a slap in the face. He slept with the enemy, cheating on you and you wished for things to go back to the way they used to be before you were thrown into this life. When the first few weeks had passed after your marriage, you thought that maybe things would change some day, but you had been foolish to think that someone like Tommy Shelby could ever change. 

Just like you, he pretended to be invincible. The veneer that protected him from real feelings seemed cracked now though, and underneath lay raw nerves. His eyes flashed, and he gripped the steering wheel harder. The Bentley purred along the roads of Birmingham, cutting through the misty weather like a hot knife through butter. In the dim light, his profile was illuminated by the dashboard lights, showing a man wrestling with inner demons.

Then, suddenly, he pulled over at quiet intersection, near an abandoned estate before parking the Bentley under a tree.

You were startled, and your eyes widened as the engine cut off. You could feel the awkward silence filling the air between you. The wind whistled loudly, causing the trees to sway.

"We need to talk," Tommy said, his voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He opened the car door and helped you step out. He guided you towards an old wooden bench sitting under the shelter of a sturdy oak tree.

The bench creaked under your weight as you sat down gingerly, wincing from the residual pain in your arm.

You glanced sideways at Tommy, noticing his troubled expression.

"What exactly did you mean by 'we need to talk'?" you asked cautiously, sensing the seriousness of the conversation to come. "And why here?" you wondered, and Tommy's shoulders stiffened visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gathered his thoughts.

"Because I feel as though someone is listening to us, in my own fucking house," Tommy growled before offering you a cigarette, an offer which you declined. "Love, I know I have made mistakes..." he then trailed off, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

"You have. You betrayed me and you cheated on me," you interrupted bluntly, refusing to sugarcoat the truth.

Your tone was accusatory, carrying the weight of a betrayed spouse. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you refused to shy away from confronting the issue head-on.

Tommy flinched noticeably, his grip tightening on the armrest. He looked down, avoiding direct eye contact. "I know," he murmured quietly, shame coloring his cheeks. "I was...confused. Things got complicated and I..." he began to say before inhaling sharply. "You were forced to marry me, and I tried to honor our arrangement after the night we shared, but in order to protect you from your own fucking family, I couldn't. I had to ensure that you were not involved in any of my business deals knowing that you were pregnant with my child, and you hated me for that. So, tell me Y/N, how could you have possibly expected us to be anything other than fucking acquaintances, eh? You don't love me. You were forced to be with me and I was not going to live to honor my vows with a woman who shows no fucking interest in me and no fucking respect either," Tommy explained, his voice heavy with resentment, though his words carried a certain amount of justified bitterness. He had done everything he could to protect you from your own family's devious schemes. They were planning to sacrifice you for personal gain and screwing over the gang in which you were now involved. What more could you have possibly expected from him?

"As soon as I figured out your uncle's plan, I realized that you were a liability to me, and that fact alone made me distance myself from you, not out of hatred, but because I wanted to protect our child," Tommy continued, his voice softer now.

"So why did you sleep with Laura Manning then? What did she have to do with protecting our child?" you countered, still unconvinced that his intentions were pure. There was no denying that Tommy was a complex individual, capable of displaying immense kindness and compassion while simultaneously engaging in brutal acts of violence. You couldn't quite wrap your head around his motives, and it frustrated you to no end.

Tommy hesitated, his brow furrowed in concentration. "For the same reason I sleep with whores Y/N," he confessed, his voice strained and laden with regret. "To get some fucking release, after a long day of handling business" he added, before taking a deep breath and, immediately, you slapped him across the face. 

The sound of flesh connecting with flesh echoed loudly in the chilly night air. He flinched, surprised by your sudden reaction but not entirely unprepared. The sting of your palm burned against yours, the intensity of your anger shocking even you but, what you did next, came more of a surprise to him than anything before.

"You are being selfish Thomas, seeking release outside your marriage after all you did to me," you told him while reaching for his belt buckle, you undid it swiftly, and then slid his zipper down, before he could utter a word. 

"Fuck!" he gasped, his eyes wide in shock as you slid your hand beneath his briefs.

You leaned forward, wrapping your hands around his shaft and squeezing firmly. His cock throbbed in your grasp, swelling larger under your skilled fingers.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he stammered, struggling to form coherent sentences while being confused by your actions while trying to stop you. 

"Quiet!" you snapped, squeezing him tighter. "I am your wife and I need you to remember exactly that," you spoke swiftly while his eyes went wide as saucers, mouth hanging open, but he bit down hard on his lip to suppress an audible groan when you stroked him expertly. Each stroke of your fingers teased his erection, causing it to grow thicker and longer. You knew how to handle a man, how to manipulate him, and how to please him in ways he hadn't experienced before.

"No more whores!" you shouted, grabbing Tommy's erection even tighter. "No more fucking other women!" you snarled, pumping his cock faster. "I'm it, Tommy! Only me!" you told him before adjusting your position in order to take off your undergarments.

"I am your fucking wife and I expect you to treat and respect me as such," you said angrily before reaching beneath your skirt and slipping your panties off. 

You straddled Tommy, your knees pressing against his thighs and your moist pussy brushing against the head of his cock.

"Y/N," he protested feebly, his voice hoarse and trembling and, before he could say anything else, you pressed your index finger onto his lips.

"Ssh," you cooed seductively, grinding your hips against his groin, but Tommy would not relent. 

"Please, Y/N," he pleaded weakly, trying to push you away. "You're too delicate to handle me right now. You are injured and traumatized," he reminded you calmly, but you shook your head. 

"That's just it, Tommy," you purred, gripping his erection tightly before guiding it to your entrance. "I'm not delicate. Not anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the rustling leaves overhead.

 "I know what you want, Tommy. What you need," you told him, your voice husky with desire. You felt him squirm beneath you, his cock growing impossibly harder against your sensitive flesh.

"And I'm going to give it to you at my discretion," you moaned, grinding your pussy against his swollen member. "Understand?" you asked while Tommy whimpered softly, arching his neck to lick your lips hungrily, but you pulled away, leaving him wanting more.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with lust and pleading. "Please..." he begged but you shook your head, teasing him with your eyes.

"You've got to prove yourself to me, Tommy," you smirked wickedly, rubbing your pelvis against his throbbing erection. "Show me that you're worth my time, effort, and affection."

He frowned, his brows knitting together in frustration. "How?" he asked, desperate for a way to appease you.

"Well," you purred, cupping his cheek. "First of all, you will give me authority to handle the liquor export division. I want you to give me full control over it and not interfere unless absolutely necessary."

Tommy stared at you in disbelief before heaving a sigh. "I'll consider it," he agreed reluctantly, following which he asked what else it was that you wanted. 

The air between you crackled with tension, the scent of sex and desperation mingling to create an intoxicating blend. You knew that you had him hooked, and now it was time to reel him in.

"Secondly," you continued, leaning closer to his ear. "If, what you told me is true, I want you to help me get rid of my uncle and his acquaintances. They pose a threat to our family, and I won't tolerate it. Understand?" you asked, seeing that it was them who put you into harm's way and, without giving it a second thought, Tommy nodded. "Agreed," he muttered gruffly, his voice barely audible.

He was caught in your web, ensnared by your demands and desires and you licked your lips, savoring the taste of power and dominance before making your final demand.

"Finally, I want you to stop sleeping around," you stated bluntly. "From now on, you're mine and only mine. Agreed?" you asked and Tommy pursed his lips, contemplating your request.

After a few moments of silent deliberation, he nodded slowly. "Agreed," he said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "No more whores," he muttered, and you smiled triumphantly, feeling empowered by your newfound control over him.

"Good boy," you cooed, planting a fleeting kiss on his lips before, finally, lowering yourself on to his hardness. 

"Oh, God, yes," he moaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "I'm...I'm yours, Love," he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken as he felt your flesh surrounding his hardness.

You chuckled softly, feeling satisfied with your victory. "Yes, you are," you purred before you began to ride him.

You took his cock inside you with agonizing slowness, relishing the sensation of being filled by him. You let out a soft cry of pleasure as your walls tightened around his thickness.

"You feel so fucking good," Tommy moaned, thrusting his hips upward to meet each of your downward strokes. You reveled in the sensation of being impaled by him, his erection pulsating within you.

Each movement drove you wild, your juices flowing freely, lubricating your passage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself as you bounced on top of him.

"You see, you could have had this all along, Thomas" you panted, your voice ragged and hoarse. 

Tommy's eyes narrowed, his breathing becoming labored. "I promise to make it up to you Love," he murmured, his voice shaking slightly.

"We shall see," you replied coolly, your gaze locked on his.

With each stroke, you grew more confident, knowing that you held the reins.

"I am close," Tommy muttered, his voice strained and breathless.

You smirked, enjoying the power you wielded over him as, suddenly, you pulled away and slid off his lap.

"Well," you drawled, standing up and dusting off your skirt nonchalantly and picking up your panties from the dirty floor. "Maybe I will let you have your release later, if you behave yourself."

Your words hit him like a punch in the gut, and you saw the hunger in his eyes intensify tenfold.

Tommy simply sighed, his gaze fixated on your every move. You knew that you had him where you wanted him. His cock twitched impatiently, yearning for release, but you decided to tease him further.

"Get up," you command, and he does so immediately, his movements swift and obedient. "When we get back to Arrow House, you will call Boston and introduce me as the new export liaison. Then, after that, we will go to OUR bedroom and you will fuck me like a good husband fucks his wife. Understood?" you asked him, your voice low and seductive.

"Yes, Love," he breathed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest and you arched an eyebrow, your lips quirking upwards mischievously. "Do you?" you challenged, stepping closer to him.

The scent of your perfume wafted towards him, intoxicating and alluring.

"Let's go home, Tommy," you murmured, reaching out to trace your fingertips down his arm and he shivered, goosebumps erupting on his skin.

He had never seen you like this - commanding, dominant, and utterly fearless. You had somehow managed to turn your situation around, seizing control and positioning yourself as the puppet master. And he was your willing marionette, dancing to your tune.

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[dearharriet]

Whatever; Steve Harrington 🌓

summary: they say you’ll meet every person in your life twice. the second time you meet steve, you’re in college, and he’s very different from what you remember.

word count: 3.2K

warnings: fem!r, mentions + content of previous bullying, ex-bully!steve, alcohol consumption, some unresolved emotions, angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: i swear im alive i’m just stupidly busy. hope y’all like this one xxx

You circled back to Steve so quickly that a lick of embarrassment flamed at your cheeks, but really, you couldn’t have stopped it. His presence was fascinating, and like a passerby can’t look away from a car accident, you couldn’t resist inspecting Steve.

The house was very dark and humid, crowded with people that went to your university, and people who didn’t. Steve, for example, who had appeared—now for a second time—seemingly out of nowhere. Two weeks ago you’d spotted him at a party across town that a scene band threw, but he’d disappeared before you could talk to him. Tonight, he wasn’t so lucky.

To your relief, he received your sudden presence very gracefully, almost sheepishly. He was bowing his head and his broad shoulders shrunk together carefully. You wanted to say something very bold, something to grab his attention like fancy meeting you here, but the totality of your unfamiliarity made you hesitate.

“Where’ve you been?” you shouted instead, hugging your chest to feign casualness. It sounded, you realized, like you were inquiring as to where he’d been five minutes ago, not indefinitely post-graduation. Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“Hawkins,” he replied, matter-of-fact. “You?”

“Hawkins?” you repeated, ignoring his courtesy. “That’s not like you.” In truth, you probably knew very little about what would be like him and what would not, so you tacked on, “Not to be presumptuous or anything, sorry.”

In school, you and Steve saw very much of each other yet spoke next to never. In the spring of your sophomore year, Tommy Hagan’s father made him walk about the neighborhood and offer to mow lawns for money—something about growing hair on his chest, forming a sense of responsibility—and your mother had just broken her wrist, so she gave him a five dollar bill every Saturday for three months to help out. Tommy was awful at it, and he loathed you, and when you returned to school in September he’d dragged Carol and Steve with him into his loathing.

One day, you couldn’t recall what date—or even what month—but you remembered the three of them had come to find you after classes were done after you’d stayed late. You missed a question on some test, or there was something about a project, whatever. You knew it was late because the halls were empty, and your recollection of that relied heavily on the memory of Carol’s chilling laugh echoing down them, which you never forgot.

“God, Tommy, you’re sadistic.”

They prowled closer, just around the bend. Tommy and Carol were chortling and you could imagine them hanging all over each other the way that they often did. Steve cut in abrasively, something frenetic in his tone.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here, man.”

Steve’s voice bounced down the corridor and sounded back, like radar pinging around and around, detecting movement.

“Relax, Harrington, what’s the rush?”

“Rachel’s waitin’ on me, that’s what,” Steve replied. “And I still gotta drop you two assholes off.”

“Your gal-pal can wait, Steve,” Carol sneered, and you thought her voice was edged with something sharper than exasperation. “Besides, this’ll be fun.”

They turned the corner, and you realized then that it was likely you they were looking for, and it was suddenly too late to turn and hide. You froze, bag heavy on your shoulder and damp starting to form on your brow.

“Ah-ha! Just the girl we wanted to see,” Tommy sang, his voice already lilting meanly. You took a step back, wondering if they’d really chase you if you bolted. Carol had heeled boots on, and you were certain Tommy and Steve wouldn’t hunt down a girl no matter how twisted they were. A guy, sure, but you?

It didn’t matter, because you didn’t run, which you could only blame on yourself and your tendency to petrify under pressure. Anything you chose seemed the worst option, which made the logical solution to do nothing.

“She looks about ready to run,” Carol peered as they came closer, which was very astute for her, all things considered.

“Yeah, maybe.” Tommy grinned. “You wanna play, goodie-two-shoes? Me ‘n Steve’ll give you a head start.”

In retrospect, the roles of Tommy and Carol and Steve, and even you, are played by their fully grown versions. Of course you all looked very young, sounded very young—being fifteen at the time—but it all comes back as if it happened yesterday. It’s warped by everything that happened after.

“Yeah, why don’t you just get it over with, save us all a little time?” Steve picked, his expression almost bored.

You pressed your lips together. Carol stepped behind you, prodding at your bag, and you recoiled, backing closer to the lockers.

“Nah, she’s too chicken-shit,” she hissed, and then ripped your bag from your arms. When you lunged for her, Tommy pushed you back into the metal wall of lockers, and your shoulder blade landed hard on a dial-lock.

“Jesus H Christ, Tommy,” Steve laughed awkwardly, “could you have pushed her any harder?”

“Whatever, man,” Tommy waved him off, watching as Carol dug through your satchel. “You’re soft.”

Steve’s features tightened then, all of a sudden like a switch had been flipped. He took his hand out of his hair and strode over to Carol, taking your bag and emptying its contents onto the linoleum. Notebooks and pens, highlighters and, embarrassingly, a heap of pads, all washed over the floor. Carol had your journal in her hands and Steve took that too, discarding it with everything else.

“I’m fuckin’ tired of this shit,” he muttered, “let’s go.”

“Boo,” Carol complained, “what a wet blanket.”

“Yeah, why don’t you stay here with the teachers’ pet,” Tommy gibed, gesturing at you, “since you both love being L-A-M-E.”

He spelled the word out, holding a backwards L on his forehead that Carol copied.

“Yeah, and who’s gonna drive you home, Tommy?” Steve challenged. Tommy clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes petulantly. Carol’s hip popped as she dropped her hand, lips smacking. “That's what I thought.”

Steve brushed past them then, properly regal and entitled, and they followed him begrudgingly, swapping resentful glances until you couldn’t see them anymore.

In the minutes it took to gather your things back into your bag, you couldn’t resist the cloudy thought that Steve dumping your bag felt like a mercy. In the company of many rabider dogs, his offense was almost magnanimous, and, despite it being your things, felt more targeted at Tommy and Carol than at you. On your way home you decided that that was stupid, and that you were likely feeding into a fantasy that would eventually hurt you.

It wasn’t until after graduation that you realized they were bullying you. At the time it obviously hadn’t felt friendly, but you’d been so fictile then that you assumed most of the blame. When your mind changed, the word bullying alone felt too childish to bear, so you decided it was fine and that you were over it.

Standing before you at the party, Steve was folded in on himself. The memory juxtaposed so coarsely against how he looked now.

“Not like me?” he repeated.

“I just mean,” you continued, “I would’ve thought you’d go to school. Here in Chicago, maybe. I don't know. Indi, at the least.”

He shook his head, cradling his damp beer can closer.

“Yeah, well, I'm not smart like you,” he answered. “I didn’t really get accepted anywhere.”

Steve’s cheeks pinked with embarrassment, but he didn’t look all that dejected. You were sure that was the nicest thing he’d ever said to you, and the added element of self-depreciation threw you off-kilter.

“You still talk with Carol and Tommy and stuff?” It wasn’t much of a question, but Steve looked profoundly confused.

“What? No, I um—“ He licked his lips, looking down. “They ditched me when Hargrove came into town. You don’t remember?”

“Oh,” you said. “No, I must’ve missed that.”

“Yeah, that’s uh. S’ probably for the best. You shouldn’t have been caught up with us anyways.” It sounded like an apology, though not direct enough for you to accept in any way.

“Well it’s not like I never saw Tommy H. and Carol again,” you said, admittedly sour. “I figured you were off with Nancy or whatever. Where is she anyways?”

“Nancy?” You nodded. Shrugging, Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. We broke up in 1984.”

“Oh,” you jolted , “sorry about that.”

“Nah, don’t be.” He looked very sorry about it himself, like he was still wishing it away.

“Well, I am. I always thought you two would get married or something. She seemed like she knew how to keep you in line.”

Steve smiled softly, vaguely.

“Yeah, Nancy’s like that.”

His sentence ended there and didn’t pick back up, and you felt terribly anxious about what to say next. As often as you denied it, you did want to see people from school again, if only to show them they didn’t win. You wanted to happen upon Steve The Hair Harrington, or Tommy H. or Carol Perkins or anyone at all just to affirm that, yes, you were doing significantly better than they expected you to. You wore shoes with heels and makeup and you were just like them, only you could writhe in shameless glory because you were never a prick.

“So what do you do? No school?”

Steve leaned closer then, apprehensive as he brought his mouth to your ear.

“D’you wanna talk outside?” He asked, and then pulled back to gauge your expression. “I can’t hear very well,” he explained, some level of shame coloring him. You nodded tolerantly, following him out to the porch.

It was clear and cold in the Chicago suburbs, like a freshly opened bottle of coke, and you could see Orion’s Belt. You had on a white leather jacket that kept you just warm enough.

“You seem to like it better here,” Steve observed. Your earlier question stood forgotten from the journey outside.

“In a way,” you agreed.

“People are nicer?”

You pinched your brows thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t say nicer, no.” Fiddling with your jewelry, you looked at the sky. “People have been rude to me here before, but it’s…it isn’t like Hawkins.” You swallowed a freezing breath, wondering if Steve was really standing next to you. “I can leave at any time if it gets to be too much. Or, like, tell them to fuck off if I wanted to. In high school I just had to sit there and take it, and then come back the next day for more.”

Blowing out a stiff laugh, you looked back to Steve. His eyes were downcast, face crumpled, and it looked like he would eat his own mouth before he said a word in response. It was painfully silent, so silent that the wind and your racing heart played a spoilt song together at Steve’s inattentive audience.

Your face felt warm with humiliation. Conversation had grown on you, or so you thought, enough that you wouldn’t become carried away into overzealous speeches to people who didn’t care. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, frowning.

“Do you like Chicago?” You asked Steve, and it turned brittle in the air, like a wisp of ash from a fire.

“I’m so sorry,” his aggrieved response came, and it carved your chest open to hear, in a way. It was something you imagined, a moment you craved, a fantasy you knew would never occur. Now that it had, you felt a million miles away, like he’d said some magic word and hypnotized you, stealing your present mind and leaving you cavernous and vulnerable.

“It’s really okay, Steve,” you said hoarsely. “We were kids, and you were as stuck as I was.”

“I was not,” he sternly denied.

“Sure you were,” you insisted, “it was eat or be eaten. I can’t blame you for not wanting to be picked on.”

“Because I would have died from being unliked,” he retorted sarcastically. You gave him a look as if to say that’s not fair, but you knew he was right. It would have been a different kind of unlike for him. If he’d forfeited his social standing, all of the cruelty and indifference he got would have been directly his decision, and his courage would have been gratifying enough to sustain him.

“Well,” you stammered persistently, “I still think you’re okay. I forgive you.”

“Look, I’m—“ Steve huffed, scrubbing at his hair anxiously. “I’m not trying to fish for compliments. Really. I just have this terrible feeling that you convinced yourself that it’s okay, what all happened in school. But it’s not okay. It’s not.”

He looked into your eyes hotly, a wild turn to his features, and you felt oddly nauseous. You looked at your shoes to avoid his stare, slim heeled boots that all the pretty girls wore in school, and you wondered how you’d feel about those girls if you’d never slipped them on, never had a guy take you home because you looked so good in them.

“What do you want me to do, then?” you asked.

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Whatever you feel,” he replied, “what I want is besides the point.”

“Not to me,” you mumbled, and then regretted it instantly. You pulled your jacket tight around you and shivered, said: “I don’t know what to do.”

A tear tracked hot and shameful down your cheek, dancing with the porch light and the stars and Steve’s eyes. You felt like the whole world was watching you flounder and choke like a fish on a dock. You sucked in, and air stole down your throat in three distinct parts, stuttering and painful.

Steve reached for you then, taking your arm into his grip and crushing you to his chest. Through teary eyes you could spy into the house where the party still thundered. It looked shockingly vibrant and warm inside, a world away from your moment with Steve on the frigid veranda. He was holding your head gently and rubbing at your back, and you could only think of how much you’d been craving this. How you’d yearned over intellectual conversations and counseling sessions for something as real as this moment, here, with Steve. He knew you better than anyone inside, anyone in Chicago, even, and you could not fathom how that had happened.

Pressing into him, you sniffled pitifully and hid your face.

“Sorry for crying,” you said, “I really didn’t want to.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve said, for the second time that night. You liked the way he said it, with a soft sternness that left no room for argument. He even went on further to say: “It’s okay if you want to cry some more.”

You rubbed his sleek jacket between your fingers and looked at him.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

Steve laughed, and you knew then that he wouldn’t, like you knew he wasn’t laughing at your expense.

“Who am I gonna tell?” he asked genuinely. You thought about it.

“Tommy or…” Steve shook his head. “No, right, you said that.”

You pretended to think some more, but you had nothing. You said, “I don’t know,” and then expected Steve to give you a name, like you were playing a guessing game and you’d lost. Instead, he drew his arms tighter around your shoulders, so that your chin was trapped on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I won’t tell a soul if that’s what you want,” he admitted, a shiny frond of his hair escaping the fray to sway between you two. “I think I’d do whatever you asked, actually.”

He seemed very affronted by that fact, as if he was only discovering it as he told you, right then.

“Would you—” You licked your lips. Looked at Steve’s. Asked: “Would you kiss me?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “‘course.”

He kissed you then, acerbic ale transferring from his lips to yours. The stray hair caught between your foreheads, doing what your noses could not and flattening. Steve’s hands held you firmly, at the back of your neck and on your upper arm, and it made you shudder. He was kissing you dizzy—not nearly the first you’d ever had, but certainly the first that felt worthwhile, the first that felt good and right and deserved.

As you pulled away shyly, Steve kept his eyes closed, his jaw working and his breath uneven.

“Steve?” you called.

“Hm?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Steve hummed negatively, tapping his forehead back onto yours and finally blinking his eyes open.

“No, sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” You smiled, and Steve grinned knowingly, like he could tell he’d be hearing that a hundred times a week from then on. You asked him what he was thinking and he fiddled with your jacket collar nervously.

“Just about you. In Chicago and everything. Where that puts us.” Steve scrunched his face in a sort of wince like that might upset you. “I mean, not that there has to be an us at all—if that’s not what you want, or if I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He says the last bit like a question, like a request. Like: Please say I’m not getting ahead of myself?

“No, I wouldn’t say you are,” you assured him. “I didn’t even think about the distance. Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said without hesitation, but a small abashed smile played on his lips. “But I meant what I said, whatever you say goes. Whatever you want me to do.”

You looked him over, from the tallest strand of his styled hair down to where your chests met, taking in his moles and the fibers of his shirt.

“Do you have anyone at home that you’d miss?” you asked, and Steve’s face said everything, even as he shook his head stubbornly.

“Baby, whatever you want. Ask me to move up and I will.”

Smiling, you kissed him curiously, the feeling so novel and thrilling. His responding squeeze on your arm shot through you to your very center.

“I still have my family in Hawkins,” you told him dazedly. “I go home every holiday. We can visit. And it’s only a year and half before I graduate, and then we can figure something new out.”

Steve smiled dryly, perhaps anticipating a different answer, but ultimately you knew it’d be best not to rush anything. You were content, all of the excitement and adrenaline seeping from your body and making you feel soft around the edges. You shivered a touch, and Steve rocked you both to and fro.

“Do you wanna go back inside,” he asked, his mouth on your hairline. You shook your head, stuffing your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Can we stay here just a little longer?” you pleaded.

“‘Course we can,” Steve granted, soothing his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you want.”

+

thank u for reading xx

masterlist

[allthewriteplaces]

Magnolia in May ~ Chapter Eleven

Author's Note: It's honestly a MIRACLE that I got this released in time considering how my week has started off with me feeling really sick and a bunch of other stuff. Hopefully by next week, I'll feel better, but for now, let us indulge in some Lizzie x Jessie friendship! Chapter Warning(s): None

Word Count: 4271

Chapter Eleven

The minute I got inside, I took off my jacket, put it on the coat hook and then placed my boots next to Charlie and Ruby’s. This place was not as big as Arrow House, but somehow, it suited her. It was much like her character; quiet, friendly, and inviting. People came to her with their problems and she was always willing to offer a listening ear or words of advice when necessary. I took quite a liking to her when we first met, considering the obvious tension between her and Thomas.

“You and Tommy seem very close.”

In spite of said tension, I also thought it was funny how she still called him ‘Tommy’ and he called her ‘Lizzie’ when they were in the same room, as though they were still good friends. Maybe they didn’t get on as well at first as they did now.

“We are quite fond of one another,” I nodded.

Her eyes sparkled in the light coming from the window and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Then she leaned forward as if to whisper conspiratorially. “It is a wonder he hasn’t taken you to bed yet.”

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor the second the words came out of her mouth and I could tell that I looked like a codfish, so I forced my mouth closed and then cleared my throat, swallowing thickly and feeling my cheeks turning pink with the sudden heat. “Yes, well, it’s a little hard with the nightmares and all that.”

“He told me they were becoming less frequent.” She sounded concerned.

We made our way to a sitting-room a little ways down a corridor from the entrance of the house. I was silent for a few moments. I wanted to plan my next words carefully, because it would be easy for her to assume that she was the one at fault for the return of the nightmares. There was no need to add to the excruciating amount of guilt she was feeling over separating from him, no need to drive her already fragile emotions to the very edge. I wanted to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault, that she was the cause of the nightmares.

Knowing that the children were around was another good reason to keep my voice quiet and to filter through my words. Looking around, I made sure they were not within earshot before I continued. “They started up again several weeks ago. He said something about tunnels and shovels and feeling trapped beneath them.”

Lizzie was considerately quiet now, too and after a moment, she nodded. “He used to be what was known as a tunneler. He and several other men dug long tunnels underneath contested no-man’s-land territory to bury explosives underneath enemy trenches. The job was incredibly dangerous — they risked capture by the enemy and death from tunnels collapsing. They also fought at the Battle of the Somme and the Battle of Verdun, two of the most infamously bloody conflicts of the war.”

She closed the door when we stepped over the threshold. It clicked quietly shut behind her, then she went to sit in one of the two armchairs near the fireplace and gestured for me to do the same.

“He’s never gone into complete detail about what happened,” she continued, picking up the teapot and pouring the warm, soothing liquid into two white, porcelain tea cups. The steam rose from the rim and evaporated into the warm air. “I understand that he would much rather forget that part of his life ever happened, then have to explain it all as if it were fresh in his mind.”

I pick up my cup and then take a small sip to avoid burning my tongue. “He woke up in such a dreadful state that it makes me wish there was something I could do to help him besides offering words of comfort and embracing him in ways that only temporarily eliminate the ghosts of his past.”

“Someone’s been reading a lot of Shakespeare,” she said with a tiny smile.

“I’m sorry?” I blinked several times to try and comprehend the meaning.

“No, I just meant when you said ‘eliminating the ghosts of his past,’ it sort of sounds like something he would write about.”

“Perhaps in his early years of his writing,” I laughed, “I am not as well-versed or have such an advanced vocabulary. Nor do I think I could keep speaking in riddles.”

A few minutes of silence passed, but I didn’t mind it. While some may have seen it as awkward, or felt the need to fill it with idle chatter and small talk, I took it as a spare second to think, to allow my mind to wander wherever it wanted to. I wasn’t sure where Thomas was right now, or who exactly he was going to speak with when he got to wherever it was he needed to be, but I hoped that he knew what he was getting into and I wanted him to know that I and the rest of his family would be praying for his safe return. Soon enough, Lizzie spoke again.

“Permit me for saying this, but I have noticed that he has been a different man since he met you,” she said. I looked her way, surprised by not only the break of the silence, but of the words that were spoken. “I mean this in the best possible way, of course. Ever since Grace died, and after losing his brother, he doesn’t let people get too close to him and whenever someone tries, he pushes them away. He keeps his heart locked up in a safe that no one can find the passcode to, not even me, the one person he vowed to share everything with. At the beginning of the divorce, he barely paid any attention to them aside from mealtimes and they would call me on the telephone, begging for me to come and pick them up.”

I was surprised to say the least. Thomas always appeared to be a doting father to his children. He gave them everything and anything they wanted without spoiling them. He listened to them play their instruments, he comforted them when something was bothering them, sat with them during mealtimes and played with them when he wasn’t working. He even put his work aside to attend the picnic with them that one day and it made them so happy.

It might seem to some that we were speaking of two different Thomas Shelbys, one who was present in the family and his children’s lives and one who distanced himself from the people he cared about and who cared about him.

“It’s one of the things that caused us to separate. He just wasn’t the same anymore, and when he went away, he smelled like other women. He reeked of blood and danger and Charlie even said to me, ‘you’re more my mum than he is my dad’ and it broke my heart. Not just for Charlie but for Thomas. They had an unbreakable bond, which seemed to crumble more and more until it was nothing more than dust, old memories that were left behind in the past.”

She paused again, gazing into the fireplace for a moment, collecting her emotions. One thing I admired, but was also slightly concerned about, was that too often, her main focus was taking care of everyone else and making sure their needs were met while rarely allowing herself to take care of her own or to let anyone see her own sadness, anger and pain. After all, the separation took a toll on her as well and it seemed to me like her way of dealing with her negative emotions was pretending they didn’t exist in the first place.

I wasn’t sure what to do at that moment, but I felt this strong inclination to reach out to her, to put a hand on hers and tell her that it was okay if she needed to cry, or to take a step back for a while. On the other hand, having the children with her for a couple of weeks might be just the thing to lift her spirits.

“But things changed. I was surprised that one night near the end of April when I didn’t receive a single telephone call and at first I was worried, because what if something happened to them? Now I see that it’s because of you. I should be jealous of you, furious even.”

“I assure you, Miss Stark, that you have nothing to be jealous of. Thomas and I are good friends. Nothing more.”

She added a few cubes of sugar into her tea and then gently stirred it so it wouldn’t remain in a clump. “Good friends, eh? Then why did it take you so long to say ‘goodbye’ to one another?”

My head snapped upward and she looked back at me through narrowed eyes, raising one brow sceptically. I opened my mouth to speak, in a lame attempt to explain my absence and protect my reputation, but then she started laughing.

“Look at your face, you’re as red as a tomato.”

While Lizzie tried in vain to recover herself, I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t feel like laughing in the least, and I sat there feeling awkward and embarrassed and a little bit foolish. I should have known Lizzie would find out about Thomas and I and while I did wish we had a little more time together, him and I, I am glad that we parted ways when we did, or else we would have taken a lot longer, thus raising more suspicions.

How much she knew, however, I still wasn’t sure and I wasn’t going to ask any further questions about it, dig myself a deeper hole than I was already in. At least now she was smiling, though. That was the only good thing about it, even if it was at my own expense.

“Well, to be honest with you, I would much rather see him with you than that May Carleton woman.” She looked down at her clenched fist and loosened it. “She’s practical and follows structure and routine very strictly, which I am certain you’ve noticed, but she lacks imagination and creativity. Not like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I smiled, and took another sip of my tea.

“You should,” she said, smiling back at me, but it quickly vanished as soon as it appeared. “She is a bit too forward, however. She knows exactly how to draw Tommy in and sometimes he is too quick to fall for it. Or he was, anyway.”

“Was?”

“Like I said, he’s been different since he met you. Although, if there ever comes a time when I need to make a choice between who I think best suits him besides you, I would easily choose her over Tatiana.”

“Tatiana? May? Lizzie? Grace? How many women does Mister Shelby know exactly?”

My mouth snapped shut, realising I had just asked that question out loud rather than in my head. Lizzie leaned her head back and sighed dramatically.

“Too many to count, I’m afraid.” She added a little bit more sugar to her tea, seeing as how it wasn’t sweet enough already. “But rest assured, he will not be seeing Tatiana again. And May? Far as I know, she’s just a friend.”

“Who’s Tatiana?” I asked.

“No one you need to worry about.” She shook her head, setting her cup and saucer down, then meeting my eyes again. “She is a duchess. Rich, beautiful, a real temptress who would do just about anything to get what she wanted. I never met her or knew her personally. Not really, but I never liked her, and shockingly, neither did Tommy. She stayed over one night, and things got out of hand. That’s all he was willing to tell me about her.”

“Men are weak when it comes to women, especially those they know are trouble. And they rarely think twice about the consequences until it’s far too late. I’m not saying all men are, and forgive me if what I’m saying is too bold, but let’s just say that when you’ve been in the business for as long as I have, you get to know a bunch of different characters.”

“So I’m assuming you have a handful of scandals?” she asked, perking up.

“Oh, trust me, I have many.”

“Well, then, you must tell me about them.”

“And here I thought you weren’t one for idle gossip.”

“What are friends for if you can’t gossip with them? Besides, it’s in the past now, isn’t it? it? Surely it won’t harm them and they’re not going to hear us anyway. I, too, have met my fair share of characters whilst in my old profession.”

“Really? And what was it?” I asked, taking a sip of my tea.

“Not the sort of business you want on a resume, I’ll say that much.”

“Oh,” I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

“You seem shocked,” she said, glancing up at me.

“Not at all — I mean, you’re very pretty — That is —” I was stumbling over my words. I didn’t want to offend her by saying anything rude or by making some remark, and surely this was not an appropriate topic to discuss while having tea with a dear friend.

She laughed again, shaking her head. “I know what you mean. It wasn’t my first choice. Originally, I wanted to become a writer, print articles for the daily papers, maybe write a few stories and get them published, but no one believed in me, not even the people I called my friends. Then after losing my parents, I had to find some way to provide for myself.”

Her tone became less amused and more serious as she went on. I thought she might start weeping and instinctively, I put a hand out and placed it on top of her own.

“You needn’t talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

She looked relieved now and she smiled. “Thank you. It’s all in the past now, so I need not dwell on it.”

“Still, you shouldn’t have had to give up your dreams because no one believed in you. Do you still wish to write?”

“Well, I’ve started writing short stories for children. Not sure if I will ever publish them, but—”

“You should!” I said, a little too hurriedly. “I’m sure Charlie and Ruby will love them. They’ll tell their friends, their friends will tell their friends, imagine it!”

Her smile grew until it stretched all the way across her face.

“You really think I can do it?”

“I don’t think so. I know so,” I answered.

A few moments of silence went by and none of us seemed to mind it.

She stood up and collected both of our cups and saucers. “More tea?”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid I feel a bit ill.”

When she noticed the almost faraway look on my face, she placed a reassuring hand on mine, which startled me at first, but a few seconds later, I found myself appreciating the gesture. “Don’t worry. Tommy’s gotten himself into plenty of scrapes before, tricky ones, at that, but he’s always found a way to weasel his way out of them. No doubt he’ll return safe and sound.”

“I hope so,” I replied, rubbing my hand on the fabric of my dress and meeting her eyes. She gazed at me with a sympathetic expression in her eyes just as Charlie came into the room, glancing between us.

“Jessie, will you play with us?” he asked softly. I could tell he’d been waiting until we’d finished our conversation to ask the question. Something I am certain his father or Lizzie must have taught him.

“Of course I will, give me a few minutes and I’ll be right there.”

He nodded and then ran back out of the room, possibly to tell Ruby the good news. Lizzie and I both stood up at the same time and I took a deep breath.

“The kids seem to have taken quite a liking to you as well,” she observed. “Good. I can’t imagine having a governess like Mrs. Pritchard was a pleasure. They told me how much she disliked them.”

“Charlie has mentioned her a few times, yes. He told me she was horrid to them. She would literally drag them out of bed in the morning, make them dress themselves and but the thing that was when he told me all of the things she said to him and Ruby. Shaming them for who they were and where they came from.”

I could feel my hands shaking but I didn’t know why. No, actually, I knew exactly why. I was angry. I was angry for the very same reasons that I was when Thomas and I were talking not long ago, and when Django and his family once returned from the city and people had been insulting them and whispering about them when they thought no one was paying attention. What had they done to deserve such treatment? And what could someone possibly gain from degrading someone else?

“Why bother working with or having children if you don’t like them?” I whispered, sitting down again rubbing my arms nervously. Lizzie watched me from the corner of her eye and after a moment, she placed her hand on my shoulder.

“I wasn’t expecting Ruby to come so soon after Thomas and I married, and to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I was ready to become a mother, but as time passed and this baby inside me grew, the first time I held her in my arms, I knew that she was meant to be. That I would do anything for her, and for Charlie. As soon as they told me about what happened, I begged them to talk to their dad. It was the only time he’d set his work aside and listened to them.”

She paused and it looked as though tears had come into her eyes.

“Are there some things I wish I did differently? Yes. Do I wish things had turned out better for us? Of course I do. But I feel like things are in a good place right now. I mean, if things had worked out, the children never would have met you.”

Neither of us said anything for a little while, until the both of us had a chance to settle down and collect our emotions. Then Lizzie sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Did you ever wish you could be a mother? Or had you dreamed of having children of your own?” She paused. “Forgive me. You don’t have to answer that question if it’s too personal.”

“That’s the thing. I never thought about having children, I just like working with them and teaching them. I will admit, way back when I started, there was a little boy who screamed and kicked and pinched, sometimes over the smallest things. I made a vow to never have children.”

“How did you manage? Did you end up resigning?”

“Trust me, I could have, but one day, I just sat him down and he told me he felt so angry all the time. His mother had died a few weeks before I arrived, and his father sort of shut himself up in his office. He only ever paid attention to the boy if he acted up, so that’s what he did.”

Lizzie shook her head dismally and looked at me. “Poor child.”

I nodded. “I told him that it was okay to be angry and to feel sad, but also that we needed to find healthy ways of dealing with our emotions, like talking about it with someone we trust. So, then I put both the father and son in the same room and allowed them to have a private conversation, to let it all out. By the time I came back, they were both crying, but in a good way.”

“Jessie! Are you coming?” Charlie and Ruby were standing in the entryway and were waiting very patiently for the two of us to finish our conversation.

“You go on,” said Lizzie, “I have things that I need to finish up here anyway.”

“Very well, Miss Stark.”

“Titles seem too formal for a place like this. Right here, we are Jessie and Lizzie.” She took both of my hands in hers. They were warm and soft, much like herself, and they were very clean. Each nail was around the same size and they looked like they had been trimmed recently. “You know, I didn’t have any sisters growing up, but I’m sure you and I are going to get along splendidly. Oh, speaking of sisters, a few family members are going to be coming over on Wednesday morning for breakfast. I thought you would like to know in advance.”

“You mean Auntie Ada is coming?” Charlie asked.

“And Uncle Arthur?” Ruby added.

“Yes, yes,” Lizzie smiled at them. “Auntie Polly is coming, too.”

“And all of our cousins!” Ruby was grinning from ear to ear, but then she looked over at Lizzie. “Does our Daddy know?”

“Yes. Your daddy already told me before you came. We have business to discuss as well, so you can play outside with your cousins.”

“Can we have another picnic with Jessie?”

“I think it’s up to her to decide,” she said and both of the children took my hands and tilted their chins up to try and win me over with puppy dog eyes. How could I possibly say ‘no’ when they were looking at me like that?

“Pleeeeease?” They said at the same time and I pretended to sigh.

“Alright, then, another picnic it is.” I chuckled, “Oh, but if I’m not mistaken, I believe you both asked me to play with you.”

“Race you to the top,” said Charlie and he and Ruby turned on their heels and went up the stairs faster than I ever could.

“No fair, you two are faster than me,” I said, going after them. When I got to the top of the stairs, I was out of breath and Charlie was trying his best to hold back a smile as I took a minute to regain some of the oxygen I had lost coming up.

“We win this time,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you started without me, so…”

This time, Ruby was laughing with him. But she quickly turned around, opened the door and she and Charlie stepped into the playroom. It was a little bit smaller than the one back at Arrow House, but was not lacking in toys and books.

“There’s certainly a lot of interesting things to do,” I mused, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking around at the number of board games and stuffed animals and there were even two toy rocking horses. Good thing there were two. Not that I would expect them to argue over it, but you never know.

“Jessie, you try!” said Ruby, sliding off the horse and then gesturing toward it.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m too tall to fit on it now.”

“Come on,” said Charlie, “what’s the worst that can happen?”

“First of all, I don’t want to break it. Second, I’m not properly dressed.”

“Alright, then. Ruby and I will race and then you can be the judge.”

“Yeah, you can be the one who shouts ‘Ready, Steady, Go!”

“Sounds much better,” I agreed, “but we’ll need an audience.”

The three of us set to work, putting both horses in a line, making a pretend mark with one of Ruby’s hair ribbons, and then assembling an audience with the stuffed animals and toy soldiers.

“We have to have some officers there in case a bad guy comes,” Charlie insisted.

“You’re right. We all know bad things can happen anywhere.”

“That’s what Daddy says,” Ruby nodded, frowning slightly.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be any bad guys,” Charlie assured her, putting a warm hand on her shoulder, “and if there are, we’ll take care of ‘em, right?”

“Right,” she said, grinning.

“That’s it, you two, chin up. The race is about to start.”

Ruby put up a hand. “Wait, we need money, too!”

“Money?” I exclaimed.

“Yeah. Daddy says people can win lots of money at races, too.”

“What else has your daddy told you?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

They both giggled and I couldn’t help but smile at them.

“Okay, well, we don’t have any real money, so we can use marbles.”

I reached into the toy chest and pulled out the marbles.

“Let’s see, we’ve got thirty marbles. That means whoever chose the winning horse will each get a marble which is worth a thousand pounds, right?”

Charlie put a hand to his head. “How am I supposed to know? Money is tricky.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I laughed.

“No, Teddy! No betting until it starts!” Ruby sternly pointed at her bear sitting innocently in the front row of the stadium. “You have to wait until we hand you the paper before you can place your bet. That’s the rule.”

“Now, are we ready?” I asked and both competitors got onto their horses.

“Ready,” they both said.

“Alright, then, Ready….. Steady…. Go!” I made a fake sound to let them know that the race had officially started and they took off.

Taglist: @runnning-outof-time @zablife @loverhymeswith @sherbitdibdab

[blueberrysnake]

THREE Birds of a Feather

Summary: Tubbo and Ranboo for life. Forever and always. Till the day they die. What about what happens after death? What would their ghosts be doing 10, 20, 50 years later? Most likely shenanigans only fit for the best spirits!

Chapter 1/1

Title taken from the song two birds on a wire but I changed the lyrics a bit!

On ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37840942

Word count: 1231

“Bee?”

“Yeah Boo?”

Tubbo sat up from his current favorite place to sleep, which is the stairs. For any normal person, stairs wouldn’t seem comfortable at all! Well, Tubbo has been dead for 50 years, along with Ranboo, who died 53 years ago.

Even though they’ve been dead for years, Tubbo and Ranboo are still alive, cursed to the mortal plain for reasons unknown to even themselves.

“You think we could try and contact spirits again?” Ranboo asked Tubbo, purely out of boredom.

“I don’t think any ghost or ghoul wants anything to do with us after last time.” Tubbo responded, referring to how in the past they had both pranked every spirit, ghoul, ghost, and demon that would answer their calls.

“But like I’m bored and we can’t DO anything!!” Ranboo cried out, very upset at how ghosts aren’t corporal.

“I understand your frustrations Boo, but we what do you suggest I do?” Tubbo responded, growing tired of his spouses constant complaining.

“Maybe we could try contacting Tommy? He WAS in our house for a sleepover when the fire broke out…” Ranboo suggested, referring to his and his husbands deaths.

“… sure why not.” Tubbo caved, having heard these types of pleas grow common for his husband.

So the duo gets ready with all the required tools for summoning a specific spirit. It isn’t precisely a long process, however it isn’t a short one either, leaving enough time for anticipation to build between the immortal children.

Soon enough, the two are finished with their project, and ready to attempt to contact their old friend. Tubbo was secretly hoping that Tommy somehow found a way to survive, like his son had, but deep down Tubbo knew his hopes were far fetched.

As the two began, the air in their house became more cold than what the boys considered regular, which means it is working. Ranboo held his non-effective breath, hoping his friend was alive.

Then there was a great flash of white. Tubbo and Ranboo covered their eyes in a vain attempt to shield their vision from the bright light. Almost as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, leaving behind only a burned and crumpled figure laying in the fetal position on the floor, unconscious.

Suddenly, it dawned on Tubbo; Tommy didn’t have a ghost when he died that one time so long ago, and was stuck in a limbo state. Tubbo was able to quickly rescue Ranboo from his limbo, because Tubbo’s limbo was nonexistent. Even with his rapid acting though, Ranboo was still very disoriented and traumatized from his short repeated ordeal in limbo.

Tubbo couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must’ve been for Tommy. Looking over at Ranboo, he could see him thinking something similar.

After staring at Tommy, the two debating on what to do in order to help the youngest of the three not panic a great amount, the older two decide to bring him to one of the vacant beds.

As the married couple look at the small figure that is their friend Tommy, they are filled with regret. They could have saved him sooner. They could’ve been prepared more. They SHOULD’VE been prepared more.

A sudden movement from the bed snaps the husbands out of their own heads.

“whuhh?” A drowsy and distraught teen questioned to himself, as he realized he’s not where he went to sleep.

Tubbo and Ranboo flinched at how horrible Tommy’s voice sounded, clearly sore from screaming and crying.

“tubbo? ranboo?” Tommy asked in a quiet voice that seemed terribly out of character for the used to be loud teen.

Tubbo was in shock and unable to speak, so Ranboo had to respond for the both of them and diffuse the situation before Tommy hurt himself or others from a possible panic.

“Hi Tommy!” The tallest one replied, attempting to be cheerful.

That was all Tommy needed to begin sobbing profusely.

Tubbo and Ranboo didn’t know what to do in order to help Tommy, so they just floated there. Waiting for Tommy to stop crying while they were in tears aswell.

Eventually, when Tommy realized that Tubbo and Ranboo were just hovering over the bed he was laying on, he attempted to maneuver himself over to hug them.

Tommy was not very successful, and ended up being flat on his face from not being used to moving,

Tubbo and Ranboo decided to take that as the sign to rush to Tommy’s side and hug him until it would suffocate any living being.

Many hours later, when Tommy has finally calmed down and is coherent enough to ask questions, he finally spoke up.

“How- What-“ Tommy attempted to say but was cut off by his own sobbing that was threatening to make an appearance again. He paused for a moment before trying again.

“What did you guys do?” Tommy asked, disoriented by the fact that in limbo he wasn’t physically a ghost and now he was.

“We summoned you to hang out with us!” Tubbo replied, his tone soft as to not upset the boy.

The trio stayed like that for a long while. None of them saying anything. Just huddling together.

When Tubbo and Ranboo finally decided to attempt to move. Of course because of Tommy’s limbo being a void, he didn’t want to let go in fear of being left in the void again.

As Tommy held his friends closer, Tubbo and Ranboo grew concerned.

“Bossman, are you okay?” Tubbo questioned, quite worried for his dead friend.

“D-Don’t wanna let go… don’t wanna go back there.” Tommy managed to whisper out.

Tubbo didn’t seem to understand exactly what Tommy meant, but Ranboo did. Ranboo understood what Tommy’s thinking was.

Tommy was afraid to let go of anyone because he might disappear and reappear back in his limbo.

Ranboo immediately felt extreme guilt and gasped through his eternally smoke filled lungs.

“Tommy, your safe. You aren’t going back to that place anymore. I promise.” Ranboo told the youngest of the group.

The boy in question looked up at Ranboo. Silently questioning the taller if he was telling the truth.

Ranboo’s slight head nod gave Tommy enough reassurance to loosen his tight hold on his ghostly friends, but not too much so they could leave. Instead electing to move his grip to their hands.

Tommy only then seemed to realize that his body consisted of the grayscale other than his signature red t-shirt with burn marks plaguing it.

“Wha- am I a ghost?” The blonde asked the older two. He also finally took in his friends ghostly appearances. Tubbo looking similar to him, and Ranboo looking like his ghost did when he died the first time.

“Yeah! It’s a little scary at first but it gets really fun eventually! Tubbo explained.

“So… you wanna prank the residents living here?” The tallest boy asks the other two.

“Sure Ranboob!” Tommy replied with a cheeky grin on his face, making his recent tear tracks disappear with the brightness of his smile.

Tommy would have to learn to move around, but he eventually was able to become as able to get around as his two ghostly friends. He wouldn’t release his hold on one of his friends hand until he had a firm grip on another until many years later, and his fear of the dark, small spaces, and potatoes are still very large.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Thomas hewitt with short reader who adores him!

I got this inspired from a wattpad story 😭 please I'm gonna die, what if someone I know irl sees this.

Summary: you acted nice to Thomas and now he's glued to you.

Tw: stockholm Syndrome?

You were on your 1999's jeep on your way to Texas. You and your friends decides to move to a very hot place for what unknown reason. You were burning but the opened windows seemed to help a bit. Your two friends in the back seat were making out shamelessly while the driver of the car who was actively tying to flirt with you. It may not be the best car trip right now but you're sure it's gonna be worth it.

The town itself wasn't very loud but you just hoped the cacophony of lip smacking and annoying sounds from the radio would end.

"Hey y/n, have you ever thought about getting into relationships?" The driver friend of yours asked obnoxiously.

"Uh I don't know, I'll meet the right person I guess..." You just blandly answered hinting at your suitor that you have no interest in this conversation.

And as if God answered your prayers you spotted a gas station

"Stop the car right now there's a gast station."

and you hear faint words of aww's from your sappy friends. you got out and proceeded to vamoose into the gas station hoping to find good food to replenish your hunger.

You got distracted and bumped into a squishy big tough chest, you look up and the most cutest attractive man you've ever seen in your entire life, although his eyes were piercing through yours cautiously and with fire as to wait for you to run away but you just stood there looking at him with awe and adoration in your eyes which seemed to catch him off guard as he's never been looked at like this. A sudden voice met your attention.

"Ah it seems you've run into my son Thomas, I'm Luda Mae just call me Mae and don't fear him he isn't going to hurt you he's just a gentle giant, right Tommy?" The elderly woman said.

The man now you know as either Thomas or Tommy slightly nodded his head.

"Hi Tommy! Nice to meet you!" You chirped as if you were talking to a baby or a small animal, this unfamiliar tone of voice caught both of them off guard, Thomas flabbergasted and flustered underneath his mask and Luda with a small o on her mouth which turned into a teasing smile. But before she could say anything your friends barged inside.

"What the- Y/n stay away from that!."

You were roughly pulled away from Thomas by one of your friends, as they so rudely explained that you shouldn't be near someone as big and dangerous as tommy and ordered whatever was on their mind and dragged you away only a small 'bye!' Escaping your lips before seen out of sight from both of them.

Maybe you won't be food.

Now a few hours later and it's dark and you can barely see anything but you were bleeding and scars on your body and was running away from that house with your only remaining friend but now you have none since a chainsaw is going through their body leaving you no choice but to run away alone leaving you scared to death.

You were running as fast as you could but the killer caught up to you and you recognised those distinct eyes.

"Tommy?" You asked, fear and adrenaline leaving your body, why was it that you felt so in peace when you are with him? Before you could process anything further your vision blackened.

And now you found yourself tied to a chair in front of family of 4 Or 5 you can't tell but what you did notice that your flirty driver was hung upside down on the wall. And now you were sobbing because you were scared for your life.

Thomas wanted you to stop crying and aquiver but didn't know how so he decided to comfort you with music he gently placed his headphone over your ears hoping it'll calm you down and oddly enough it did. It calmed you knowing he didn't mean you harm. But you aren't sure that goes for the same from his family, how did you even get into this situation anyways? They all started eating what they called 'your friends' and Thomas even started to feed you. which strangely didn't seem to bother you as much as you thought it would. You started zoning out and before you knew it the tight rope from your hands started to untangle.

"Hey! What are you doing!? First you insist they be tied with rope instead of nailing them and now you're untying them?"

You had absolutely no idea what was going on so you just sat idle and Thomas stood there with his hands pointed at you as to show that you meant no harm.

"What if they run away and snitch?"

"I-i won't!" You cursed yourself for stuttering.

"Well.. It doesn't hurt to have one more family member." Luda mae implies.

"I'm watching you..." The older man snarly says to you.

Few months later you are now very much apart of their family and you help around the house, 8/10 (10 if you don't mind murder and blood and cannibalism)

Now for hc's!

Everytime you talk to him with adoration his heart explodes everywhere. ⬅➡⬆⬇↗↘↙↖

He runs by your side every chance he gets, he's a very busy man but you accompany him and he can't ask for anything more or less.

He's going to get VERY attached to you poor baby rarely ever received this kind of affection before you so DON'T break his heart. (Not like you will anyways)

Ask for anything and he'll bring it to you in 3 seconds.

Will also worry alot over the smallest things like a small cut on your finger, does it hurt!? Are you in pain!? Are you okay? Please don't bleed out!

Will die (out of cuteness) if you do the same.

Very shy about PDA but he's the most touched starved cuddly man behind close doors.

Will probably be dependant on you.

Will also be very scared when you go out alone, incase you'll decide you don't like him anymore and run away.

Also very insecure, what if you find a better man? :(

Will fall for you 100x harder if you help him with the murdering.

Loves the size difference too. You have to stand on your tippy toes smh. 😳

Pats your head, yes.

Sometimes carries you wherever you like when you two have free time.

LOVES nicknames.

"Tommy I'm fine!"

"Tommy it's okay I'm not gonna run away I'm only going on errands."

"Baby I promise I won't leave you, you are my only love."

"Muah, feel better?"

"Oh no, are you okay sweetheart?"

"You are the most handsome man I've ever seen."

"Love you, goodnight darling."

"You're so tall!"

[amor-brooklynn]

𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲... /~𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔟𝔲𝔯~\

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾𝕊: 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥, 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣, 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕥 (𝕚'𝕞 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪), 𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝 (𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘), 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 (𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖, 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪), 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 <𝟛, 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥, 𝕤𝕠 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕤 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 <𝟛

---

dom!revivedbur, sub!female!reader <3

---

with everything that has happened, dream constantly tormenting your mind, Schlatt, the final ending of L'manberg, and wilbur. especially wilbur. your longtime lover. dead, deceased, you haven't been the happiest.

you lived with Techno and his horse in their nice little cottage out in the middle of the forest, but it wasn't home. not L'manberg. not wilbur.

his trench coats were the last thing you had left of him. the smell of cigars and cedar was a weird mix, but also a comforting feeling in your defense. god, how you missed him so much.

the old mossy cobblestone walls seemed to leave huge cracks in the walls the more you thought of it. and it hurt. anytime you would walk past ghostbur, even catching just a glimpse of him, it would make you want to break into tears instantly. the fact, and the thought, that he doesn't remember a single thing about you, that he's changed, causes you to run away to random parts of the world, usually though, you would visit tommy and tell him how bad it hurt. and he would try to help.

even though tommy was a bit annoying sometimes, you were proud to call him one of your best friends.

---

you were peacefully farming potatoes for techno while he was gone, he told you he had business with the syndicate. honestly, you didn't care.

you hummed a make-up song as you planted the left over potato seeds and picked the very last potato. you stood, hands on your hips in pride, you usually never had the motivation to ever really get up and do much, but today, you were confident. there was a feeling in your stomach that something was gonna change.

you were busy putting the rest of the potatoes in a dirty duffle bag that you had found by the bee farm next to techno's house when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. you were so deep into your thoughts that when you felt the sudden contact, you jumped and smashed the potato in your left hand, the contents inside splattering over the brown dirty trench coat you wore over you body before you pulled out your shimmering enchanted sword, turning to raise a sword at someone who seemed all too familiar.

no- it can't be-

you head tilted and your eyes instantly widen in shock and horror, your mouth suddenly agape, and you instantly started sobbing.

"wilbur? how did you- what-" you stuttered, too overwhelmed and shocked to even find the right words.

"hello, have you missed me darling?" he smiled as he took the cigar from between his lips and dropped it, stepping on it to put it out.

your hand clapped over your mouth as waterfalls, not even tears at this point, started flowing from your eyes.

you leaned into his chest, pulling him into a lazy but tight hug, and you took in the feeling of him, even the scent that you were already familiar with. he hugged back tightly and rubbed your back slowly with his calloused thumb. this wasn't something that you felt very often from him, hardly ever, so you took in the feeling and cherished it for as long as you possibly could.

"how are you h-here? I thought you- i don't know- died! i mean- you did- i seen ghostbur but- where the hell where you?! have you been here the entire time?! you scared me like fucking-" you rambled endlessly before he interrupted your on-running concern.

"no, my love," he said, pulling his hand up to your face and wiping off the tears streaming down your face. "it was more like a train station, but the train never stopped to pick me up, i seen you, all of you, but it never did stop. until, i saw dream, and- me i suppose? getting off the train, and then i was awakened." he let a crooked smile pass through his painfully perfect face

but that was the thing, there were no scars on his arms or anywhere but his face, a long scar cutting through the middle of his face, and a new white streak of hair that you seemed to notice instantly, and you lightly moved it out of his face. a light color of pink blanketed your face at the sight of him.

unintentionally, your thighs closed together.

he smirked at your reaction towards him and pulled you in closer by your waist before saying, "you really missed me didn't you, baby?" he whispered right in your ear, sending chills down your spine. you quietly whimpered and nodded pathetically.

he chuckled and rubbed your hip with his thumbs as you buried your head in his neck and continued to whimper helplessly. this wasn't how you expected it to go, this being the first impression you and him made after not seeing each other for so long, but at the same time, it was an understandment.

you soon pulled away and showed him a small smile before turning back and continued to gather the rest of the potatoes in the bag that still sat against the side of the house.

you shivered when you felt his hands grip your trench coat that you were wearing and pull it down your shoulders. you didn't think much of it until you found yourself gasping in surprise at the feeling of him sucking on your neck and leaving peppered kisses every once in a while. you ignored it, and continued to tie the bag of potatoes with some string that you happened to find in your pocket.

"talk to me baby." he taunted.

you stood up and ignored his words, causing wilbur to pull away from your neck, and you walked to the entrance of the house as you heard him groan from the loss of contact against your skin. you smiled to yourself.

"why are you so needy all of a sudden? you've never acted like this before." you remarked, opening the door to the house and casually walking in.

"well, i don't know if you've noticed, but it's been almost 14 years since i've gotten to see you, feel you even, in person." he argued, looking to gain even just the slightest bit of sympathy from you, to which you did not let show.

you laughed lightly, and sat the bag on the crafting table before writing a note, the words reading, "freshly harvested potatoes for the dear piglin :)" and sat it beside the bag.

you turned towards wilbur and gestured him towards you with your finger, him walking to you quickly. desperate even. and once he finally reached you, you were quick to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a passionate, deep kiss. fuck, you missed his lips against yours so much.

you moaned softly into the kiss when his hand found it's way to your clothed clit and applied pressure gently, allowing him to smoothly slip his tongue into your mouth.

he slipped his fingers under your skirt and into your panties from the side and gently started rubbing figure eights on your sensitive bud.

you pulled away from him quickly to let out a moan.

he liked that.

he took note of your reactions to his actions, trying to figure out what really aroused you.

but really, for you, just his voice, the way he speaks, everything he does, is enough to arouse you in just a second.

"wilbur.." you said breathlessly, and let out a desperate whimper.

"what is it, baby?" he responded, whispering softly into your ear.

"i need you. i want you to taste me." you requested sweetly. you needed this.

his eyebrows arched in surprise, he honestly was not expecting that from you. but he obliged, and was quick to pull his fingers out from your panties. he smirked slyly and kissed you slowly one more time before grabbing your hand and pulling you into your room, and locking the door behind you. he released your hand from his grip and pulled his shirt over his head as walked to the bed, laying down on his back.

you stared at him confused and slightly tilted your head, silently questioning what he was doing.

"you said you wanted to me to taste you, so come here and ride my face, darling." he said with a small grin, and your face instantly lit up at his words.

you rushed across the room to your bed, taking your skirt and undergarments off in the process, a bit too desperate for him, tripping over your own feet.

you climbed onto the bed, your face hovering over his and you left a light peck to his lips before sitting up and gripping the headboard in front of you to help hoist yourself onto your knees, your dripping core hovering over his mouth. you were hesitant to lower yourself onto him, until he gladly did it for you.

he wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you down on his mouth, slowly but desperately, and his tongue got to work instantaneously on your slick, lapping at it like a dog, but, god, did you love every minute of it.

your moans and curses for him seemed to never end, how good he was eating you out, but no, this was just the start.

he moved his lips higher up to your clit, and latched on to it, sucking and flicking his tongue every once in a while to give you an overwhelming sensation.

you squeaked at the feeling and you were almost positive your arm was gonna give up on you, but you could care less.

you lowered your arm down into his brown, fluffy hair and gripped it harshly, earning a low groan from him.

you felt his left hand trace up your thighs and stop again at your entrance. you whimpered, a bit nervous as to what he was gonna do next, but also so excited at the same time.

you let out a loud pornographic moan when you felt 2 of his fingers slip into you, making a lewd sound that seemed to make him want even more.

the feeling of his tongue drawing shapes on your clit and the feeling of his feelings could have made you cum immediately.

and you practically did.

it hadn't even been 3 minutes before he got exceptionally rough with his fingers, and you basically screamed at the feeling. it was pushing you so over the edge.

you felt the knot in your lower abdomen tie together, only to unravel again in seconds.

"wilbur! i-i'm gonna cum! ohmyfuckinggod-"

you started rolling your hips against his mouth in perfect harmony with his tongue. and he slapped your thigh with his other hand, indicating that you could cum.

you screamed his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt the knot unravel, releasing all over his face and fingers.

he moved your waist against his face, helping you come down from your high.

once you felt like you could move again, you slid off of him, as you watched him lick off all your juices from his face. he turned to you after and smiled.

"i'm glad you suggested me eating you out. you taste so good." he teased. "my little slut, aren't you?"

you whimpered at his words as you rolled over on your side and faced him, nodding frantically.

"maybe one day my whore can take some of my cock, yes?" he said, his eyes half-lidded and his tongue sliding across his canine in ease.

"i-i'd like that." you responded, and started tracing lines down his chest.

"good girl." he purred.

you moved closer to him, and cuddled him. he wrapped his arms around you and started drawing shapes on your back.

"do you want me to run you a bath, my love?" he asked, backed up a little bit to let you get up.

you propped yourself up on your elbow and rubbed your eyes, nodding.

he slipped off the bed and stood, holding his arms out to you, an invitation to get a free ride to the bath.

you smiled and got up after him, standing there in front of him, waiting for him to carry you.

he leaned down and gripped your legs and picked you up, holding your back with his other hand to prevent you from falling. he held you close, like a prized possession and you drowned cozily in his embrace as he navigated his way to the bathroom.

once he got in the room, he sat you in the tub, stripping you from the rest of your clothes and ran the water. you leaned your head against the wall, so thankful for him.

you perked your head back up when you heard him rummaging through the cabinets under the sink. you watched as he took out three candles and pulled a lighter from his pant pocket and light them carefully.

he then placed 2 on one corner of the tub and the other one on the other corner by your head. he then proceeded to go back to looking through the cabinets and pulling his head back out eventually, seeing that he had a bottle of what you assumed was some bubble soap.

he caught your stare and held eye contact for a while before smiling and walking up to you once more and kneeling down to squeeze some soap in the water, and you watched as the bubbles started to form.

he stood, placing the soap on the counter next to him, and with a snap of his fingers, the light went dark.

you could still see his silhouette thanks to the candles, and so you watched as he stripped himself of his clothes and stepped into the tub with you, turning off the faucet in the process. he sat down and switched places with you, him now against the wall and your back pressed against his chest.

you leaned your head back against the crook of his next a let out a sigh of pleasure and relief when you felt his fingers massaging your head.

"thank you, darling. i've missed you so much." you muttered to him and he let out a pleased purr.

"anything for my beautiful queen. i love you." he cooed.

you smiled, "i love you too, wilbur."

and you spent the rest of the night drifting to sleep on his shoulder in the nice, warm water.

he better not ever fucking leave you again. that prick. but hey, he's your prick right?

---

---

this was not proofread. please tell me what you think of it for my first time and please point any mistakes out to me :) sorry if it was bad <3

have a good day loves, and stay positive, you can pull through anything, i believe in you! <3

---

[milkywaybottles]

The Way Things Were | Tommy Shelby x Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

TW: Spoiler but the reader faces a lot of violence in this chapter, so I'm sorry in advance, and tried to spare the gory details. But, please always reach out to me, or someone you trust, if anything bothers you. Take care, much love xx

Chapter 5: The Risks

After giving Tommy a good scolding when he returned home, all seemed to be in working order again, as much as it could be anyways. A handful of days passed and you had gained a more active role in making sure the races went according to plan, especially since Tommy was now protecting Billy Kimber for the moment. You had laughed when he had told you, originally playing it off as a joke. But Tommy was a very serious person and his face didn't shift. Feeling embarrassed, you cleared your throat and agreed to help him.

You had been feeling ill for the past few days so you mostly stuck to the shop, burying your head in as much work as you could do. The nausea was overwhelming but you mostly kept it to yourself. Your ears would ring on occasion and you had a bit of stomach pain.

The shop was mostly empty for the night, just you, Polly, Tommy and Scudboat staying after everyone else. John and Arthur had pissed off to the Garrison for a drink, and from the corner of your eye, you spied Tommy and Polly getting ready to leave. Polly was dressed in an elegant, red lace dress, a lovely hat pinned to her hair.

"Special occasion?" You inquired playfully as the pair walked toward you.

"John called a family meeting at the Garrison. Will you be coming?" Tommy questioned. You smiled gently, looking down at the giant pile of papers on your desk and shaking your head. Crossing your arms over your chest and leaning into your chair, you told him,

"No, thank you. I don't feel awfully well and I've got enough work to keep me busy in the meantime"

Polly shrugged, directing her voice louder so that not only could you hear, but Scudboat could as well, "Suit yourself, love. John will be here in ten minutes"

"Five" Tommy jumped in, pointing at the two of you.

In a flash, the pair had left the building, a large gust of wind blowing leaves in from the door. Scudboat rose from his chair and made his way to the door, with a snap, locking it. He then sat back down and began to count the money. With each satisfying clink, your eyes drifted across the papers, mainly betting tabs. When your eyes began to cross, you swear you needed glasses, just hadn't been able to see a doctor about it yet.

The room was engulfed in smooth, comfortable silence. You had known Scudboat since he first joined the Peaky Blinders and while you weren't close like you were with the others, he was a nice fellow.

A sudden creak broke your concentration and you squeezed the pencil in your hand tight. Scudboat hadn't moved. It could have been John or even Finn, as the young boy loved to come in and out of the shop during school hours. "John?" Scudboat called out, receiving no response. You shared a look with him, blankly shrugging although the raised hairs on your arms said a different story. Holding your breath, you bit your lip.

Out of nowhere, a large burst of war cries erupted from the door, being pushed open to reveal a gang of men. You jumped from your seat in shock, a scream bellowing from your lips at the sight of guns. Three men tackled you to the table, yanking your arms behind your back and causing you to cry out in pain. As you continued to resist, wriggling within their iron grasp, they smacked your head to the table, an excruciating pain radiating from your temple.

"Don't move!" A head of the Lee family ordered. You weren't in the position to disobey with the icy cold barrel of a gun pressed to your cheek. Your body quivered with anxiety. "This is for Cheltenham. We're just takin' back what's ours". You watched in horror as one of the Lees hit Scudboat with the base of his gun, almost knocking him flat out. Scudboat crumpled to the ground like a house of cards.

"There's more money here! Search everywhere!"

The men who had been holding you tossed you to the floor, elbows aching upon impact. "So you're the Shelby whore, eh?" One asked. You gazed up at him through teary eyes, eyes squeezing shut as his steel-capped boot made contact with your fleshy stomach over and over again. 'Ah!' you cried, raising your arms over your face to protect it. "Might have to test that soon. You're definitely pretty enuff'. I bet you could make my head spin". All you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pray it was over soon. The pain was bitter, your teeth bit through your tongue, and all you could taste was iron.

A smack echoed through the room, a crimson, stinging imprint on your cheek. You felt the hot trail of liquid down your nose, resting on your philtrum. Another well-dressed man towered over you. The two were bending over, examining you with a predatorial look in their eyes. "Messin' with Shelby's women is fun, ya' should give it a try" your attacker told the other. The other man smirked, showing his yellow, chipped teeth.

The head returned to the group with bags upon bags of money. Your stomach flipped. Wheezing, you stuck to the ground.

"Come on, we gotta go" He told them.

The two men grinned from ear to ear, "See you next time, princess". All the men had gathered back at the bookies table, eyes set on the door. You wanted to make a witty comment but the words couldn't formulate, causing you to choke and pipe down. Within a matter of moments, they were gone as quickly as they had come. Your body burned with shame, curling even tighter around itself. Your once clean dress was now covered in mud and blood, hair splayed across the floor and over your face.

You had never noticed all the cracks in the roof before.

“(Y/N)! Scudboat!”.

Relief washed over you at the sound of Tommy’s voice, followed by the murmurs of Polly, John and Arthur. “Oh my God” Polly exclaimed, eyes landing on your dishevelled figure, crippled on the hardwood floor. You groaned as the woman rushed towards you, followed by Arthur, and slowly, John and Tommy. “Can you get up, dear?”. You blinked, opening your mouth to speak but nothing more than a squeak was made. Polly did her best to lift you on her shoulder, quickly assisted by the much more capable John.

“Where the fuck is Scudboat?!” Arthur choked, face red with rage. Tommy stormed into the other room on a hunt for the man. A single, salty tear ran down your bloodied face. You tried so hard to tell them what had happened, wanting to cry out in frustration that not only had your body failed you, but your voice as well. Tommy had emerged back in the room with a bruised Scudboat, though you could imagine his ego was more bruised than anything. You had appeared to have taken ten times the beating of the man.

The next few minutes were a blur of dizziness and zoning out while the rooms were inspected to see what had been taken. Tommy, with a sympathetic face, knelt beside you, taking a clean rag from the kitchen to your face. “I’m so sorry, love. You didn’t deserve this”. Polly came up beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“She’s in shock, I think. Can’t talk. Probably has bruised ribs too by the way she’s holding her stomach” she determined before walking away to rejoin the inspection. Tommy looked back over at you.

“Won’t need stitches…” he dabbed the split in your brow. “What did they do to you?”. He knew you wouldn’t answer, at least not for a while, but it was more a soothing question to pity you. You gave him a weak, apprehensive smile despite the pain, leaning into his hand. He took a bottle of whiskey that had been used to cool Scudboat’s swollen head and dampened the rag with it. You hissed, much like Arthur did a few weeks ago, the alcohol searing your cuts. “That’s my girl” he praised, your stomach filling with butterflies.

‘God, no, (Y/N), what are you doing?’ You thought.

"I'll be back in a minute, eh?" He posed, running his tongue over his lip and setting aside the rag on the counter of the table. Tommy walked back into the meeting room, grabbing something off the fireplace.

"They've taken anything they can lay their hands on" Polly observed, "Four cash boxes"

But nobody was particularly paying attention to what Polly was saying as all eyes were on Tommy. A single pair of wire cutters sat in his hands. He held them up, hesitating to speak, "They left these". Your eyes flitted across the men, not aware of the significance.

"Wire cutters? Why would they leave wire cutters?" Polly quizzed, face downcast.

"Nobody move" Arthur ordered.

"I think our friends are playing the game" Tommy said slowly.

Polly stepped forward, pacing through the shop, "What game?". John was quick to stop her, placing his hand out firmly to prevent her from walking any further, specifically into the office where she was headed. "Aunt Pol, don't. touch. anything"

Your body shuddered with fear. Nobody dared to move under the sharp gaze of the Shelby brothers. "Erasmus Lee was in France" Tommy drawled. Still, no indication of what this meant. Scudboat cursed under his breath sharply, his face twinging with a terror of realisation. "When we gave up ground to the Germans.... we'd leave behind booby traps set up with wires. And we'd leave wire cutters as part of the joke"

Your stomach dropped, nausea overcoming you again.

"Somewhere in here... there's a hand grenade-" John determined, the toothpick sitting between his lips. Hands shaking, you stared up at Tommy, waiting for instructions.

"Holy Jesus-" Polly mumbled.

"-attached to a wire" Arthur finished, "Don't move any chairs or open any doors". The whole shop had been strewn around in a panic. There were chairs, tables and papers thrown all over the floor, and any one of them could set something off. "Go easy, John boy. Go easy" Arthur warned as John walked around as if he was on eggshells.

Tommy shook his head, "No. Boys no, it's not in here. If it was here, it would have blown by now. (Y/N) and Scudboat have been moving around since they left. It was my name on that bullet Erasmus sent. He set up a trap, alright. He set it up just for me". The cogs in his brain were ticking, spinning, thinking of where that grenade could have been. You were worried, gripping the chair with intense pressure, leaving nail marks on the wood.

Tommy didn't have to speak for you to know by the way his face shifted that he had determined a possibility. He moved for the door and you lept from your seat without thought, following. You heard the cutoff of your name being shouted by John but as the door slammed, you no longer heard it. Tommy didn't even have time to worry about the fact you were following as he paced down the street.

A sharp turn led him to the garage where he kept the family car. Little Finn was sitting in the driver's seat, turning the wheel. Your heart almost lept from your throat. If that was where the grenade was- You couldn't bear the thought.

"Finn, stay where you are" Tommy warned, his hand extended to the boy.

The boy giggled, "I was pretending I was you"

Tommy crept towards him at an agonisingly slow pace, "Which door did you open to come in?"

"I didn't" The boy chirped happily, "I climbed in"

"I want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" Tommy affirmed, getting closer to the door. You stood warily at the entrance of the garage. In an instant, Finn burst out laughing, snapping the door of the car open. You screamed, running for the boy although it was more a limp.

"No no! Finn!" Tommy called, diving for the car. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your body against Finn to protect him. An explosion sounded as Tommy tossed the grenade towards another building. He jumped to the pair of you, covering your bodies with his own. There was a mixture of pants. The men that had surrounded the building had flown to the floor but appeared to be alright.

You gave a sigh of relief as Tommy clambered off you, allowing you to press a kiss to Finn's head. "Finn-" You couldn't think of the words to articulate how happy you were that he was alright. In a way, Finn was like your son, both you and Polly had stepped up after their mother's death. Tommy was 19 and you were 16 when it happened.

Tommy grasped the boy's hand tightly, guiding the both of you out of the garage. Then he spun around, kneeling and tapping the cap sitting on Finn's head. "That's why you should never pretend to be me. Okay?". Finn's face was ridden with a scared embarrassment. He nodded solemnly. You gave Finn a reassuring pat on the back.

“Come on. How would you like some hot chocolate at my apartment?”. His face lit up brighter than you had ever seen before.

“Really?” He turned to Tommy, shaking his hands in excitement, “Can I go, Tommy? Can I go, please?”. Tommy wasn’t in the position to say no. His mouth formed into a smirk for Finn,

“Alright. Maybe you should stay with (Y/N) for the night. It’s safer”. Finn understood perfectly. You had a fold-out couch in your lounge which he would use all the time. Finn squeezed you, giving you the biggest hug he could with his arms wrapped around your waist. You winced. “Oi, be gentle” Tommy told him, conscious of your injuries.

Finn smiled sheepishly, letting go of your abdomen. You turned to him and placed your hand supportively on his back, “Come on, Finn”, guiding him back to Watery Lane. You shot Tommy a wistful smile before disappearing down the road.

-

The sight of Finn sleeping quietly on the couch gave you momentary peace. The way his chest rose and fell slowly, his tussled brown hair splayed across the cushion. You leant against the kitchen sink, observing the boy for a while. The ticking of a clock echoed through the apartment. It had been your mothers, and it was the sound of your childhood. You wondered if the boy still dreamt. He was 11, and what the ripe age of 11 was like for you had slipped your mind. You liked to think he did. From the way his lip curled happily or made the slightest mumbles, hoping he was dreaming about something happy like playing marbles or rugby in the street with his mates.

Earlier, you had attended to your wounds, and while your body was sore and broken, it felt much better than it did before.

A glance at the clock and you knew it was getting late. You were going to have to turn in sooner or later. Sighing, you removed yourself from the counter and approached Finn. Brushing his hair from his forehead, you bent down to place a kiss above his brow. Doing your best to stifle a yawn, you brought your hand to your mouth, ears rumbling. “He sleeps soundly, that one. You would think he hadn’t a wink of sleep in his life” a voice remarked. You didn’t jump at the tone, if anything, relaxed as you eased up to stand. The Shelby’s had always had a spare key to your apartment, though seldom used unless necessary.

You watched Tommy in the corner of the doorway, the glow of a lamp illuminating his face in a way which made his eyes even more striking. He was the type of man to observe and managed to look graceful while doing so. Even the dusting of a warm light against his skin made him appear angelic. You had to admit, Tommy Shelby had always been beautiful, like he had been carved from marble. Every inch of his face had a story, every freckle or scar across his body, a reason to be. It never came as a surprise that he was popular with the ladies.

As a young girl, aged 10, you had fancied Arthur. He was the eldest, strong and capable. His rustic features caught you in a trance. What wasn’t there to like? But Tommy… there was a quality to him that his brothers simply did not have. You wanted to drink him in every time your eyes crossed paths, reach out and touch his cheek, caressing your thumb against it. But you were sure that Tommy had never given you that glance back, that second thought beyond the surface. He hadn’t noticed the way you lit up in his presence, nor the way you held his gaze for just that little bit longer than expected.

“I’m just satisfied he finds comfort in me” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. “Such a thing is rare these days”. He nodded, digging in his pocket to pull out a cigarette. The amount of things he could pull out from the pockets of his coat once made you question if they were endless. “Is there a reason you came to visit me, Tommy?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Ah, that is what Arthur says. Nevertheless, there is always a reason” you remarked slyly, taking the tray of drinks from the side table beside the couch. You and Finn had enjoyed the hot chocolate while you read him a story on the couch by the fire. Not having had the chance to clean up as the boy kept you busy, you decided to take the opportunity so you could retire for the night. Having looked up at Tommy, his expression riddled in thought, he was looking for an answer.

“I suppose” he quipped, “I wanted to apologise for what happened to you”. You shook him off, waving at him that there was no need to continue.

At that moment, as you made your way towards him, your hands trembling from the events of the day causing the tray contents to slide off, plummeting to the floor with great speed. Tommy lunged for the mugs in an attempt to catch them but it was too late. The mugs exploded into shards, scattering across the kitchen floor. You made a squeaking noise before checking to make sure Finn was still asleep. “I’m so sorry-” you fumbled quietly, doing your best to scoop up the shards with your hands. A sharp pain emerged on your thumb, the ruby-coloured liquid seeping out of the cut. You cursed lightly, pulling your hand back sharply and settling on your knees.

“(Y/N)- here let me-” Tommy insisted, bending down to help collect the biggest pieces. There was a moment where he grabbed your hand gently to inspect it, pausing. Without a thought, your eyes met, an invisible string drawn between the two of you. Your brain was too fuzzy, too intoxicated with his scent of cinnamon, smoke and bourbon to think, to notice that the gap was slowly getting smaller between you. It was then closed as your lips connected and a spark went off inside you. Like all the dots had been connected, the stars aligned, all the puzzle pieces falling into place.

Your 20 years of platonic friendship had barely been questioned up until that point.

Sure, you had kissed Tommy before when you were teenagers, being dared to. Sure, you had felt his arm snake around yours before. Hadn’t everyone daydreamt about their best friend at some point? But in that 20 years of friendship, you had never been kissed by Thomas Shelby with such vigour and passion. That was the type that made you yearn inside, hoping and praying for a hint of something more.

Tommy also had to admit that up until that point, he had never really taken notice of how stunning you were, the way you smelt like home or how caring in nature you truly were. You had always just been (Y/N/N), like a sister. It could have been the war that matured him to finally notice these things, but he could now see cracks of his old self with you, peeling back with every interaction you held. Not that you weren’t before, but somewhere in that time of 4 years, you had developed into an even kinder woman who knew what she wanted. To him, you were no longer (Y/N/N), but (Y/N).

You almost let out a moan, his teeth grinding against your lip. Placing a gentle hand on his chest, you pushed him back to break you apart. You weren’t sure what you wanted but you didn’t want it to develop into something more while Finn was in the room. He shot you a curious look, filled with care, eagerly waiting for a response. “Tommy..”

His hand found its way to your face, “A kiss can just be a kiss, love”

Fuck.

You glanced sideways around the room, remembering where you were. In your house, almost at midnight, porcelain scattered across the floor with Tommy Shelby a mess of emotions at your command, and Finn sleeping on the couch. Such a predicament you had found yourself in. Polly warned you as a young adolescent to beware of the Shelby boys, especially Tommy, who had the ladies at his beck and call. You thought you would be different, so why did you melt at his touch?

“I know…” you stated, scarcely a whisper. You weren’t even sure if he heard your declaration. “Tommy, I’m worried the Lees will come back to hurt us”. Your confession caused his eyebrow to arch, face softening at your anxiety. Shaking his head, he took your hands carefully and guided you up to stand.

"They won't hurt you... because I won't let them. Next thing tomorrow, I'm going to deal with it". His response was caring but gruff, coming out like a mumble. A quick exhale of his cigarette let smoke hang in the air. Determining that you had finished speaking, he turned for the door which was just beside the kitchen, splitting off into a hallway.

You hesitated for a moment, a choice buzzing through your mind. Placing your pointer finger in your mouth to bite it, you called out to the man, "Tommy". He spun around, half expecting to be called back. You had to say what you were thinking now. You couldn't just call him back and then not say it. "Stay with me...". Your words were halfway between a statement and a question. It was up to him to decide.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[slasherhaven]

HI, I discover your blog and i really love it. i dont know if youre already done it but could you do how the slasher would react to dreaming about they killed their s/o and wake up finding his s/o peacefully asleep next to them? im pretty curious (and sorry for my english :,3)

The Slashers having a dream were they kill you:

Thomas Hewitt 

It was horrible and he woke up feeling sick.

In the dream you had been terrified of him, pleading with him to let you go, but you didn’t seem to recognise him. He didn’t recognise you either, you were just the next victim in the basement. Just a job. He woke up just as his dream self killed you.

He panicked, suddenly terrified of losing you, needing to see you.

But there you were, where you always were at night, practically laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully. You even had a small smile on your face. Nothing like in the dream.

He didn’t want to wake you, he knew it was just a dream but it had really shaken him. So, he just wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close and refusing to let go as he buried his face into your hair.

He loved you so much, he didn’t want you to get hurt, and the thought of being the thing that hurt you killed him inside.

“Tommy, are you alright?” you asked quietly, barely even awake. Still, it made him jump a little, he didn’t mean to wake you.

He just nodded, making you smile to yourself as you cuddled up to him some more, placing a light kiss on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Michael Myers

He hadn’t even realised it was a dream at first, he was stalking a house like he usually did, targeting the person inside. But then he realised that the house was his own, the one he now shared with you, and the victim inside was you. That didn’t seem to stop him though, he found his way into the house, taking you by surprise and driving his knife into your stomach.

You had looked up at him with wide eyes, hands clutching his arms. “Michael?” you sounded scared, betrayed...it wasn’t an image he would soon forget.

But then he woke up, finding himself in your shared bedroom, looking up at the ceiling of the dimly lit room.

It felt so...real...

He sat up and looked down at your place on the bed, finding you sleeping peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil he was feeling. He did not like this feeling.

Killing somebody had never once left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but this did. If he killed you, you would be gone forever, and that was something that unsettled him more than he would like to admit.

You were sleeping deeply, so he luckily didn’t wake you up. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to you if you found him laying back down, shifting closer, and wrapping an arm around you, holding your body closer to his. He focused on your breathing and your warmth.

Maybe he was only just realising it but now, for once, he had something to lose.

Jason Voorhees

The dream was horrible. The scream, the blood, your limp body. You had been so afraid, so afraid of him, and he had killed you mercilessly, something he couldn’t even consider doing in reality. You had screamed before choking as the machete hit you. Jason had lowered you to the ground, your hand raising and leaving a bloody handprint on his mask before falling limp, the light leaving your eyes. You were gone...

And that was when Jason woke up, eyes wide and panicked.

The first thing he did was look for you, reaching out to touch you. Finding you sleeping soundly in his embrace.

You were here, alive and happy. Sleeping by his side, completely unafraid of him.

He didn’t want to wake you, he just wanted to hold you. So, he did. 

He couldn’t help but tear up as he held you. It had all felt so real, for a moment he really thought he had lost you and it was painful, it had broken his heart before he realised that none of it was real. He wouldn’t be able to get that vision out of his head, of him stained in your blood...

You would wake up the next morning held in a tight embrace with Jason’s face buried in your hair, refusing to let you go.

Brahms Heelshire 

In the dream, you had been busy and he was having a tantrum. You tried to shush him while getting on with the work you needed to do, but you kept denying him, ignoring him, telling him to give you a moment. Then you shouted at him. And then there was blood...so much blood. One moment Brahms had stabbed you, the next he was trying to stop the bleeding, begging you to stop. He couldn’t stop it, and he saw you die.

He woke up, shooting up straight in the bed, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes.

He was absolutely panicked. He hadn’t done that right? No, he couldn’t do that!

Frantically looking around, he saw you sleeping beside him, having clearly been disturbed by his sudden movement.

You woke up a little, sleepily asking if he was okay. He swallowed the lump in his throat before laying back down, cuddling up to you, holding you like his own personal teddy bear.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. I’ll be good” Brahms promised you, the pain obvious in his voice.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Brahms. You’re a good boy. Why are you saying these things?” you asked but he just buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Bad dream?” you asked and he nodded. You sighed before petting his hair, slowly lulling him back to sleep before joining him.

The next day he would be on his absolute best behaviour, he couldn’t do enough for you. He would also be extra clingy, not letting you out of his sight for a moment.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had his fair share of bad dreams, he just wasn’t very open about them, but you knew. This dream was different though, it wasn’t about his childhood, it was of present day. He was taunting you as you begged him to let you go, promising to do whatever he wanted, asking him why he was doing this. But he only laughed at you, not caring, all before killing you. Watching the life leave your eyes as you reached out to hold onto him, your hand wrapping tightly around his wrist as you feel to the ground.

Bo woke up suddenly with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It was a dream, he reminded himself, chastising himself for being so pathetic.

Then he felt you shift beside him, moving closer and getting his attention. Bo looked down at you and slowly felt that feeling in his chest fade, replaced by warmth.

You were alive and well, and sleeping peacefully right beside him.

He wrapped his arm around you, letting you cuddle up to him some more. 

He wasn’t going to wake you up because he didn’t was to share the dream with you, not just yet anyway.

For now, he was quite happy to just lay with you and hopefully get some more sleep.

Vincent Sinclair

Everything had happened so fast in the dream. A new group of victims had come into town and Bo had sent him after them. He did, as he always did, finally catching up to the last victim, stabbing them, killing them. Only then did he realise that it was you, looking up at him in horror, your blood coating his hands.

Vincent woke up breathing heavily, eye wide as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

He instantly looked to you, gradually calming down as he watched your body rise and fall with steady breaths.

He didn’t want to wake you up or disturb you, he just needed some comfort.

He carefully shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing his chest to your back, nuzzling his face against your hair.

He felt a tear threatening to fall and he just allowed it, as long as he was quiet as to not wake you. 

All he wanted right now was to hold you and calm down. Everything would be alright in the morning, he knew that.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had a bad dream every now and again, just like everyone else, but they had mostly stopped since you started sharing a bed with him. Tonight seemed to be an exception. Lester never did the killing, he brought the victims to the brothers. This was no different. He had taken you into town, handed you right over to the twins, even when you begged him not too, both of you knowing what your fate would be. As Bo walked you away, followed by Vincent, you had looked back at Lester, begging him one more time, a look of complete betrayal and heartbreak on your face.

Lester startled awake, breathing heavily and sweating slightly.

His sudden movement woke you up, making you roll over to face him, rubbing your face sleepily. “Lester? You okay?”

“Y-yeah, just a bad dream...you’re okay, right?” Lester assured you, looking over you as if checking for any injuries.

“Of course I am” you frowned slightly, confused by his question. But he seemed to relax then, joining you in bed again.

“Good...good” Lester sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You just wrapped your arms around him and held him as the two of you fell back to sleep.

Bubba Sawyer 

It had been an accident in the dream. He was chasing down an intruder, chasing them through the house, nothing too new. He thought that he had caught up with them, dealing with them using his chainsaw...but once the chaos was over, he saw you laying on the floor, your blood pooling around you.

Bubba woke up, instantly panicked and searching for you. But he found you sleeping with a content smile on your face right beside him.

He quickly moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace.

The movement woke you up but you knew it was Bubba so you just happily moved closer and cuddled into him.

“You okay, Bubs?” you asked and he nodded, letting out a few concerned coos. “Bad dream?” he nodded again.

You lifted your head, kissing his cheek, silently assuring him that everything was alright, before cuddling up to him again. Falling asleep in his arms.

Billy Lenz

Bad dreams weren’t new to Billy but this one was. He was walking through the house and he had a knife in his hand, he had a destination in him, a victim was waiting for him. He slowly pushed the bedroom door open before stepping in, the slither of light illuminating your sleeping face. He moved over to you, raising the blade above his head before forcing it down into your chest. 

Then he woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and frantic as he sat up.

The suddenness waking you up slightly. You asked if he was alright, altering him that you were alright.

“Bad dream” Billy murmured as he returned to you, tangling his limps with yours and clinging to you. “Billy wouldn’t hurt you. Billy loves you” he mumbled.

“Did you hurt me in the dream?” you asked softly and he hesitantly nodded. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you wouldn’t hurt me in real life. I love you too” you kissed the top of his head, feeling him hold onto you a little tighter before trying to get some more sleep, you joining him. 

Asa Emory (The Collector)

For Asa, bad dreams usually related to his childhood, not anything from his present life. Sometimes he would dream about his crimes but he wouldn’t call them bad dreams, he was very neutral on them. This...even he couldn’t feel neutral about what he was dreaming about right now. Of hurting you, not even making it quick, drawing your pain out before finally doing you the mercy of killing you.

As soon as he wakes up, he steadies his breathing and focuses himself. 

It was a dream, nothing more. 

But that didn’t change the sense of contentment he felt when he looked down to see you sleeping, arm around his waist and head on his chest. A perfect reminder that it really was just a dream, that you were still here, and he wasn’t going to hurt you.

He wrapped his arm around you some more, just holding you more securely without waking you up. He wasn’t going to discuss this with you, not right now anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

In the dream, it was like you were just another victim. He had subdued you but you were still away, tears staining your face as you pleaded with him to show mercy. He just took the camera off of his shoulder and zoomed in on your terrified face, he was enjoying it. He soon put the camera back in place before pulling out his knife.

Your piercing scream of agony rang through his mind as he woke up, greeted by the ceiling of his bedroom.

He turned his head to the side, seeing you sleeping beside him. Perfectly well and unharmed, your arm resting over his waist.

You were alright, you were safe. He would never hurt you.

Jesse wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him.

It was just a dream, he was well aware of that, and knew not to let it effect him too much. Still, the thought of hurting you made him cringe. 

That would never happen, he would protect you, he promised himself that.

Otis Driftwood 

It was a violent dream that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Just him carrying out his true nature but on you instead of a victim he couldn’t care less about. You had cried, pleaded, tried to get through to him, but he didn’t stop, he didn’t care. And then, you were dead. He had killed you, your blood staining his hands and clothes.

Otis is pretty used to disturbing dreams, they rarely bothered him, but this one definitely did.

He woke up, instantly focusing on you. How your head was resting on his chest and your legs was draped over his hips. Very much alive, not a spot of blood on you, perfectly content.

He never thought that somebody outside of the family could have such an effect on him. That somebody’s loss could...scare him so much.

His arm remained around you as he made himself more comfortable, causing you to shift closer as well, letting out a quiet, sleepy hum.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, nearly chastising the fond feeling he felt when you smiled in your sleep.

Baby Firefly 

Gory dreams never bothered her, they couldn’t be any worse than reality, in fact she wouldn’t consider them nightmares at all. This though, this was certainly a nightmare. You were bleeding, crying, and in pain, but she was just giggling, being the person hurting you. And, just like that, you were dead and her giggling stopped, a look of worry spreading over her face.

She woke up, running a hand over her face and brushing off the dream. It was just a dream, you were alright.

There you were, sleeping right beside her. She knew that, she was looking at you.

Still, she shifted into a more comfortable position, brushing your hair out of your face and beginning to scatter kisses over your face.

She wasn’t going to mention the dream right now, it was silly. She just wanted to hear you wake up giggling at her playful attack.

Yautja (Predator) 

Dreams weren’t all that common for him, at least not like this one. Even in teh dream it was an accident, him forgetting how fragile you were compared to Yautjas. And it cost him everything.

He woke up just as you died in the dream, leaving him with a sickening feeling.

But when he felt you shift, making him relax.

You were curled up on his chest, sleeping peacefully, just like you did every night.

He purred soothingly as he gently combed his clawed fingers through your hair, purring some more when you smiled and nuzzled into him.

You trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he wouldn’t let anything like that dream happen. He just had to trust himself, and he could do that.

[dreamerstreamer]

Green With Envy

Pairing: Dream / Clay x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] In Dream’s opinion, you and Sapnap are getting a bit too close for comfort. Combine that with a war, and it looks like he’s in way over his head.

Warnings: some cursing (because Tommy exists) + tw// injury

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted some dream angst with a fluffy ending! the story takes place during the attack on L’Manberg. love to see that my first dream work is just packed to the brim with tropes. i had a bit of a rough time mapping this one out, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Dream let out a yawn as he walked into the living room, ruffling his hair as he went. “Good morning,” he greeted, collapsing onto the nearest couch.

On the other side of the room, you groaned. “‘Good morning’, my ass,” you muttered. “Mornings suck.”

He let out a small laugh at that, admiring your form sitting across from him. You were easily the biggest anti-morning person he knew. You could probably write a whole essay on why they were just the worst. But right now, in this moment, you looked absolutely adorable curled up in the couch cushions. Your hair was a complete mess, your clothes were askew, and a frown was plastered to your face.

Yet you were still so beautiful.

He wondered how you did it—how you managed to be so effortlessly wonderful in that special way of yours. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was sure of one thing.

He liked you. A lot.

If only he knew how to tell you.

Sapnap strolled into the room, holding a glass of milk. “Morning, cuties,” he hummed, taking a sip. He glanced down at the grumbling couch lump that was you. “Is [Y/N] being a grump, again?”

Dream nodded, offering him a crooked smile. “You know it.”

For a moment, Sapnap paused. Then a devilish smile crossed his face and he set his glass down on the coffee table. He leapt over the back of the couch, crashing into the space next to you. Leaning over, he wrapped his arm around your smaller figure and pulled you into his chest. 

Dream froze in his spot.

What. The hell.

You let out a yelp at the sudden movement, your frown deepening. “Sapnap,” you said, “what are you—”

“Wakey, wakey!” he cried, his fingers going for your sides in a tickle attack. In an instant, you were howling with laughter, tears springing to your eyes as you kicked your arms and legs. Dream’s throat constricted at the sight, his heart beating faster at the sight of your smile but sinking knowing that he wasn’t the cause of it.

“Snappitus!” you screeched, smacking his head. “Snapmap, stop!” You let out a wheeze. “Oh my god, Sapnap! I’m going to kill y—”

Sapnap finally relented, dropping you back onto the couch cushion with a smile. “That’s the first time I think I’ve seen you smile in the morning, [Y/N].” He jut his thumb into his chest triumphantly. “And it was all thanks to me.”

You heaved, catching your breath before turning to look at him. “Snappitus Nappitus,” you crooned, reaching your hand over towards his face. He looked at you inquisitively. Suddenly, you flicked his forehead, and he fell back with a yelp.

“Dude!” he cried, glaring up at you from where he lay sprawled on the ground. “What the hell was that for?”

You cackled at his reaction, kicking at his armour. “Because you’re an idiot for thinking it was a good idea to do that.”

Sapnap let out a groan of defeat as he asked for you to at least pass him an ice pack for his “grave wound”. On the other side of the room, Dream’s expression was cold. A stone of uneasiness sank to the bottom of his stomach as he stood up, walking out of the living room with a heaviness in his step that he didn’t walk in with.

So, he thought to himself, his gut churning. 

Sapnap, huh?

The sun glared down at the earth from the sky, not a single cloud to be seen. Dream squinted up at it as he surveyed the weather.

The scheduled day to negotiate with L’Manberg over their territory had finally come.

Under any other circumstances, Dream would be having much more fun preparing for the journey, knowing very well that he was about to see some serious destruction. But today, he was in a terrible mood, and for one reason only.

For the past week, you and Sapnap had been spending practically every second together.

When Dream had sent Sapnap to burn down the forest surrounding L’Manberg’s walls, he had invited you to come with him. When Dream had asked you to hunt creepers to retrieve the gunpowder necessary for the TNT, you had brought Sapnap with you.

And he didn’t think it could get any worse, but even now, you were laughing at something Sapnap was saying, your grin shining brighter than the sun hanging in the sky above you.

Dream was tired of it.

“You have the dynamite sticks, right?” he asked, leading his horse away from the house.

George froze, then let out a long whine. “I forgot it in the storage house. Now, I have to go all the way back to get it.”

Despite his terrible mood, Dream let out a chuckle. “You’re so dumb, George,” he said teasingly, sending him a smirk. “How could you forget the most crucial part of the plan?”

George groaned. “I don’t know! I just forgot, okay?”

He waved a hand at him, pulling out his saddle. “Just go and grab some quickly, alright? We’ll wait for you until you get back.”

George nodded, hopping onto his horse. “I’ll be back soon.” With a snap of his reins, he was dashing down the hill toward the storage warehouse. 

The moment he disappeared over the hill, Dream’s smile vanished along with him. In the corner of his eye, he could see Sapnap chasing after you with a stick, his boots in your hand. A twinge of jealousy ran up his spine.

Wait—jealousy? No way. Dream wasn’t jealous, not one bit. 

With a deep sigh, he diverted his attention to attaching the saddle in his hands to his horse. Mere moments after he placed it upon his horse’s back, he heard footsteps approach him. He already knew who it was without having to look up.

“What do you want?” he said coldly, not bothering to look at you as he began clasping the saddle buckles shut. 

You shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Well, um,” you said, “I wanted to come over and say hi—”

“Cool, hi,” Dream said, cutting you off. He turned, looking at you properly now. “You can go, now.”

You looked taken aback by his words before your expression shifted into a frown. “What’s gotten into you, Dream? You’re not acting like yourself.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh, am I?” He gestured behind you. “I’m just saying you can leave, now. You did what you came to do, right?”

You were appalled. “Why are you acting like this? I just wanted to hang out with you for a bit before we left.”

Didn’t you get it? He was trying to do you a favour. Before he could stop himself, he snapped, “Why don’t you just hang out with ‘Snappitus Nappitus’?” 

A sinking feeling dug itself into his chest at the pang of hurt that shot across your face. But in an instant, it was gone, your expression hardening. His mouth went dry.

“Fine,” you spat, fixing your eyes on him with a glare. “Maybe I will.”

You turned on your heel, stomping away to the other side of the base, inevitably making your way over to Sapnap to complain. Dream’s eyes trailed after you as you walked off, something stinging behind his eyes.

Why did he say that? He shouldn’t have taken his anger out on anyone, let alone you—the one he cherished most.

He felt sick.

“Dream,” a voice said behind him. “I got the dynamite. Ready to go?”

He turned to see George behind him, seated on his horse with a flint and steel in hand. Taking a deep breath, Dream hoisted himself onto his own horse, picking up the reins with a heavy heart.

“Yeah.”

“Big D! What’s the fuck?!”

Dream grimaced under his mask, the string keeping his patience together wearing thinner by the second. 

He and his SMP had been in L’Manberg for no longer than five minutes, and he already wanted to declare war and call it a day. 

“I’ve already presented you with your ultimatum, Tommy.”

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, and it’s a bad one. ‘Give up your land or we’ll light three sticks of dynamite’,” he mocked. He turned to look at Tubbo with a grin. “Tell me that’s not the worst ultimatum you’ve ever fuckin’ heard, Tubbo.”

Tubbo offered a cheerful grin. “It’s a pretty bad ultimatum, yeah.”

Tommy nodded, looking back at Dream with a triumphant smile. “You see, Big D? Your deal sucks. It’s fucking terribl—”

Dream let out a deep sigh. “Tommy, I’m really not in the mood for this.” His form turned toward you for a split second, taking in the sight of your figure next to Sapnap’s before looking back at Tommy. “Let’s just get this over with. What’s your decision?”

The blond blinked at him for a second, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Oooh, are you having women problems?”

Dream’s grip on his sword stiffened, his fingers twitching. “What,” he said, his tone harsh, “are you talking about it?”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m just saying, you might be having some.” He gestured to himself, smiling pompously. “If you were like me, you wouldn’t have these kinds of problems, because I’m an expert at women.”

The string thinned another fraction. “Sure you are, Tommy.”

Just then, Wilbur spoke up. “Tommy doesn’t know what he’s talking about, ignore him.” His smile mirroring Tommy’s. “But say, Dream,” he drawled, his gaze flickering back and forth between you and him, “do you happen to know the saying ‘green with envy’?”

Dream’s breath hitched. If he said one more wor—

Wilbur narrowed his eyes teasingly. “Because to me, it seems to be you’re covered in green from head to toe—inside and out.”

And the string snapped.

“George,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion, “set it off.”

The group looked at him in alarm, their eyes wide as George began, “A-Are you sur—”

“Just set it off!” he shouted, a fury like none other taking over him. How dare Wilbur of all people tease him—taunt him? How dare he? Maybe it was a bad idea, but he was done with negotiating.

It was time.

Without any more questions, Dream watched as George lit three sticks of dynamite, tossing them onto the ground ahead of them. The moment the sticks hit the ground, George yelled, “Go, get out, get out, get out!”

Every member of Dream’s faction turned, rushing for the entrance just as the first explosion rang out. Screams rang out all around him, Tommy cursing incessantly while Fundy screeched. Hidden under his mask, a grin stretched across his face at the sound of destruction. He was a single step away from the exit when Sapnap let out a desperate yell.

“[Y/N]!”

Dream stopped, turning to look over his shoulder. The explosions were still ringing out around him, but what he saw horrified him.

You laid on the ground with an arrow pinned to the train of your satchel, leaving you stuck on the ground. Above you, a chunk of the L’Manberg walls was dangerously close to unlatching itself and falling on you. All it would take was a few more explosions for that section of the wall to come crashing onto you, and Dream knew that they had hidden more than enough TNT under the country to make that happen. 

You were tugging desperately on your satchel, unsheathing your sword to cut yourself loose, but Dream knew there wasn’t enough time.

He didn’t allow himself even a single second to process what was happening—he simply bolted.

In one moment, he was turning to head out of the base. In the next, he was tackling you to the ground, his taller figure shielding yours as he pinned you to the earth below.

“Drea—?” 

The ear-splitting train of explosions cut you off, and Dream felt a surge of white hot pain sear up his back as the chunk of wall slammed into his back. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his armour was cracking. He knew he should have repaired it when he had the chance. 

Just then, his mask slid off his face, landing squarely on your chest. The strap must have snapped, he thought distantly to himself. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and he could just barely make out the sight of you crying out underneath him, your lips forming his name—his real name.

It was a shame he couldn’t hear your voice saying it. He’s sure it would sound lovely.

Then the world went dark.

Something cool brushed over his face, and Dream felt himself being pulled out of unconsciousness.

Where... am I?

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking while then drowsiness seeped out of his eyes. It must be late afternoon, given how warm and light it was. Letting his eyes readjust to the brightness of the day, he took in the sight of the space around him. It only took a few seconds for him to figure out that he was in his room. He recognized those chests, his messy desk, the curtains framing the open window. A breeze must have been what woke him up.

Why am I here?

He thought back in his mind, trying to recall the last memory he had experienced.

The battle. His SMP. L’Manberg. Tommy. Wilbur. Ultimatum. Dynamite.

He grimaced.

Oh. Right. That.

He vaguely wondered if their side had won, but also knew that he was missing something. He could have sworn there was more to the battle than just that. What was it?

He felt a weight pressing down on the bed just next to him. Glancing down, his heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of you sitting in a chair next to him, leaned over and fast asleep on the edge of his bed. The images flashed through his mind.

Taunting. The wall. You. Pain. Heat. Your lips mouthing his name. Darkness.

Ah. He remembered, now.

He shifted slightly, feeling a dull pain shoot up his side. Wincing, he pulled back the covers, looking down. He was wearing a new shirt and sweatpants—clean clothes, thank goodness. Lifting up the hem of his shirt, he grimaced at the sight of the white bandages wrapped around his torso. They definitely extended to his back as well, if he remembered correctly. So that explained the aches. 

Ever so slowly, he wiggled back, ignoring each wave of pain that crashed over his spine when he did so. A few moments later, he had finally brought himself to a sitting position, your head now lying on his lap. Dream smiled fondly down at you, reaching out to stroke your hair. You were beautiful when you were sleeping. Well, you were beautiful all the time, but he digressed. 

He had a million questions swirling around in his head. How long had you been sitting here? Did your back hurt from leaning over for so long? Were still mad at him?

He really hoped you weren’t.

Just then, you reached a hand to rub at your eyes, letting out a soft noise as you began to wake up. Dream’s hand immediately darted back to his side, and he watched intently as you brought yourself back to a sitting position. You let out a quiet groan as you cracked your back. It was only then that you fully opened your eye. He could practically see the recognition set in your eyes as you took in where you were before you whirled, jaw dropped as you stared at him.

“Um,” he began, suddenly feeling shy, “hey there.”

You continued to gape at him, eyes wide. “You’re awake,” you blurted.

His lips quirked. “Sure am.”

You scooted closer to him in your chair, shoulders shaking. “You’re actually awake,” you repeated, almost in disbelief.

Dream nodded, amused. “Yep. You already said that.”

All of sudden, you moved forward, climbing onto the bed so that you were sitting on your knees right beside him. He didn’t have a chance to react before you were leaned into him, weakly smacking his chest with your fists, your shoulders trembling as you did so.

“You’re. So. Stupid!” you wailed, punctuating each word with another light hit. You whipped your head up, glaring at him through your watery eyes. “Why did you do it? Why did you block me from the debris?”

Dream averted his gaze from yours, his heartbeat picking up from how close you were to his. He could only hope you couldn’t feel it through your hands. “I wake up and one of the first things you tell me is that I’m stupid?” he said, trying to avoid the topic at hand. “What a warm welcome back.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “Don’t change the subject, Dream. Answer the question.” Your gaze narrowed. “Why did you do it?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I—I didn’t even think about it,” he admittedly truthfully. “I just moved without thinking.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing. “But why? You should have been worried about yourself first.”

Dream blinked down at you, feeling his heart beat against his rib cage wildly. He was almost positive you could feel it. 

Then it hit him, the realization sinking into his mind as clear as day.

It was now or never.

He took a deep breath, reaching up to hold your hand in his. He watched something in your gaze melt, but the question remained in your eyes.

Luckily for you, he had an answer.

“I like you,” he said. “That’s why.”

You stared at him, stunned. He felt anxiety lump in his throat.

“You do?”

He swallowed it back down.

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then you began to cry.

Almost instantaneously, Dream began to panic. “H-Hey,” he said gently, wrapping his arms around you carefully, “why are you crying? Did I say something wrong? I, uh—” He gulped. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know you like Sapnap.”

Now, it was your turn to be confused. Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes. “Wh—” Hiccup. “W-What are you talking about? I don’t—I don’t like Sapnap.”

He wrinkled his brow at you. “Sure you do,” he said. “You’ve basically been all over him lately. That practically screams, ‘I love Sapnap’.”

You stared at him, your tears reduced to stained cheeks now and a slightly sniffling nose. “Sapnap and I are best friends,” you said, frowning.

He nodded. “Yeah. And you like him.”

Your frowned deepened. “No, that’s—” You stopped, and he watched as the gears turned in your head, being able to pinpoint the exact moment they clicked together. 

“Dream,” you said slowly. “You think that I—” You pointed to yourself. “—like Sapnap?”

He cocked his head. “I mean, don’t you?”

You stared at him for a moment longer. “Dream,” you said again, “when you jumped in front of me, I was absolutely terrified. I didn’t know what was going on, and I only remember screaming before you just blacked out on me. We won and L’Manberg surrendered, but George had to help me carry you back. You were out for two days.”

He cringed at your words. It was good that you had won, but two days was a long time to be unconscious. He must have missed so much. 

“During those two days, Dream,” you continued, “I practically didn’t leave that chair.” You pointed to the chair you had been sitting on just moments prior. “Sapnap had to drag me down to eat, and I still slept here, as you already saw.”

He gaped, absolutely shocked. You stayed by his side? For two straight days? For him?

He must have said that out loud without thinking, because you nodded and pursed your lips. “Dream,” you said, “do you know what that means?”

He blinked at you. “I don’t see how this has anything to do with you liking Sapnap.”

You let out a groan, hanging your head in your hands. “How are you this dense?” you muttered, your cheeks flushing pink. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

He didn’t think he could be anymore confused. “Say what?”

Lifting your head, your eyes met his, your cheeks burning with heat and hands shaking. “That I like you, and not Sapnap.”

Dream froze, his brain short-circuiting in his head.

You liked him.

You liked him back.

A grin spread across his face. This was possibly the greatest day of his life.

Without wasting another minute, he pulled you into his arms, practically crushing you to his chest. You squeaked at the sudden movement, your heart swelling in your chest at the sudden display of affection. “Huh—”

“Thank god,” he murmured in your ear, his voice soaked in relief. “I genuinely thought that you were going to reject me.”

You wrapped your arms around him, careful to be gentle with his back, and smiled into his shoulder. “I thought I was being obvious, but I guess you’re just really stupid.”

Dream sighed, dizzy with affection and something that felt like love.

“Yeah, I am.”

Dream let out a yawn as he walked into the living room. “Good morning,” he said, eyes darting around the room. “Has anyone seen my—”

He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on you. On the other side of the room, you were curled into the couch like you almost always were in the morning. But this time, you were wearing a green hoodie. His green hoodie.

His heart melted at the sight.

He didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore beautiful, yet here you were, destroying all of his expectations. You never ceased to amaze him with just how wondrous you were.

He sighed, striding to the other side of the room and settling in next to you on the couch. “Never mind,” he murmured, leaning in close to nuzzle his face next to yours. “I found it.”

You giggled at his touch, pushing his face away from you. “Ugh, you’re so cheesy.”

He rolled his eyes at you, grinning. “Don’t act like you don’t eat it up.”

You huffed, turning away from him. “I’m not saying anything.”

Sapnap walked in while Dream laughed at your expression, a glass of milk in hand. “Morning,” he greeted, sitting down on the couch opposite of you two. He spared a single glance in your direction before asking, “Are you two being gross, again?”

Dream‘s grin widened. “You know it.”

Sapnap gagged as Dream leaned in close to your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Ewww.”

Turning to face your boyfriend, you pressed a hand to his cheek and cooed. “Clay.” He leaned into your touch, his lips curling. He was right. His name did sound lovely on your lips,

You returned his smile with one of your own, moving your hand away from his cheek and towards his hairline. 

All of a sudden, you flicked his forehead, pain shooting through his skull as he jumped.

“Ow!” he yelped, wincing at the slight sting of your nail against his skin. He rubbed at the red skin, glaring at you. “Why’d you do that?”

You smiled sweetly at him, but he could see your eyes glint devilishly. “Because you’re an idiot for not realizing I liked you sooner.”

From the other side of the room, Sapnap let out a cackle, pointing at Dream. “Suck it, green boy!”

Dream’s brow twitched and a dark grin crossed his face as he stood up, cracking his knuckles. “Oh, Sapnap—”

Let’s just say that Sapnap needed more than a few ice packs, that day.

[mostlyoriginalmcyterstuff]

This wasn’t requested, but when too scared to request someone else to write it, write it yourself! (I have 3 requests rn, one is halfway done, the other two haven’t been started on yet-

Pronouns used for the reader: they/them

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Character(s): Sleepy bois inc! Mostly Phil tho!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!CW: IMPLIED AND MENTIONED ABUSE ITS NOT DETAILED BUT ITS THERE, FLINCHING, FOOD,ANGST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

——————————————————————————

Note: I’m sorry if the reactions to the flinching is wrong, I have not had anyone ever be concerned when I flinch at them doing something, so it was a bit hard.

(Y/n) didn’t like it when people touched them without warning.

They loved affection, sure, but when someone attempts to touch their head without warning, it scares them.

It’s not intentional, it is just a reflex at this point.

Their brain is so unused to touches near their head that AREN’T causing (y/n) harm, it automatically assumes that any touch near their head = danger.

Most people didn’t notice the small flinches (y/n) made at their quick moving hands, or the hair ruffling.

But this time, it was much more obvious.

The Sleepy bois had basically adopted (y/n) into their family, replacing the terrible old one they had.

But, of course, the Sleepy bois didn’t know about (y/n)’s terrible parents.

One day, the 5 of them had been in their house’s living room together.

A movie was playing, “Ponyo” as it was called, Tommy had been recommended it and insisted the rest of the family watch it too.

Technoblade was sitting on the armrest of the couch scrolling through his phone, not paying all that much attention to the movie.

Wilbur and tommy were seated on the couch, watching the movie intently, paying more attention than the rest of the family combined.

Phil was in the kitchen, fixing something up for the rest of the family.

(Y/n) was standing up from their spot next to Wilbur and Tommy, telling them they were going to go help Philza in the kitchen.

When (y/n) arrived in the kitchen, they quickly got to work helping philza prepare some melted butter to be put over the popcorn.

Phil gave them a thankful smile, finishing the popcorn before the two of them walked into the living room.

(y/n) had paused, turning to look at Phil as he walked by, reaching his hand over to quickly ruffle their hair.

But it didn’t end well.

(Y/n)’s muscles instantly tensed up, as they flinched away from the sudden touch.

Their arms quickly moved from their sides to crossed in front of their face, as if preparing to block a hit.

They had their eyes shut tight, but when they opened them, they regretted it instantly.

Phil was looking at them with a half hurt, half horrified, look on his face.

Techno, was suddenly paying attention, but not to the movie, to you and Phil.

Techno looked somewhere between horrified and angry. The latter scared (y/n) for a moment, before they realized, he wasn’t staring at their, he was looking off to the side of them.

What they didn’t know is that techno was cursing himself in his head, horrified and angry that something bad had happened to the point you had flinched at a casual touch.

Wilbur and Tommy both looked terrified and worried. They looked so concerned for you, to the point it was almost concerning you.

Tommy was dead silent, staring at you in worried horror.

“Y-y/n...did you think I was...?” Phil spoke, sounding choked up and tearful.

(Y/n) looked back at Phil, looking him in the eyes and quickly dropping their arms to their sides and breaking eye contact.

“...did you think I was going to hit you...?” Phil sounded heartbroken, like his heart had shattered into a million pieces.

Truthfully, it had, Phil felt terrible, but, he didn’t blame you.

It was a horrible feeling. To watch your own child flinch away from you in fear, it hurt Phil.

You avoided eye contact, looking anywhere but at your 3 brothers and dad.

“.im Sorry..it wasn’t intentional..” you whispered, looking at the ground.

Phil’s eyes widened before he quickly set the popcorn onto a counter and kneeling in front of you to look you in the eyes.

“Nonono, it’s okay, I know, and I don’t blame you at all, (Y/n).” He reassured, not touching them, but still doing his best to comfort them.

Techno got up off of the arm rest and came to sit next to where Phil was kneeling.

“It wasn’t your fault, (y/n). It was a reflex your brain has gotten used to needing and saw a what looked like a normal threat and mistook it as such.” Technoblade half-explained, half-reassured. His voice still monetone, but delivered that sense of safety with his calm, unwavering voice.

Wilbur and Tommy got up together, carefully approaching, but being careful to make some noise to alert them of where they are.

(Y/n) looked away, tears pricking at their eyes, guilty at flinching away from their own father.

“Hey, no..it’s okay, shhh, it’s alright, (y/n), none of us are mad or blame you, okay.? You couldn’t control it, it’s not your fault...” it was Wilbur’s turn to speak, he was approaching (y/n) carefully, each step seeming to be very carefully calculated.

(Y/n) finally looked at their family members finally, opening their arms for a hug, hoping they knew what was being silently requested.

Tommy clearly knew, because he quickly threw his arms around them and hugged them close, and hugging them a bit tighter than what was comfortable, but he was trying.

Phil and Wilbur followed after, hugging them and Tommy, but their hug was much more gentle than tommy’s pleasant bone crushing.

Techno was a bit more awkward, but soon carefully wrapped his arms around you all.

“I will never hurt you, (y/n), I’d rather die than cause physical harm to you. I know it may be hard to believe me, but I promise you, I won’t ever hurt you..” Phil reassured them, slightly tightening his grip on the younger two, pressing a gentle kiss to (y/n)’s head

“..promise.?”

“I pinky promise, (y/n).”

“...I love you guys...”

“We love you too, mate, and always will.”

[ayamturd]

coward│technoblade

summary: despite choosing to abandon a meaningless war, y/n finds they can't escape their emotions and past

warnings: light angst, blood/injury, slight spoilers to dsmp

pairing: in-game technoblade

a/n: none, hope you enjoy :)

wc: (1.7k) - m.list

reconcile - pt two

With a content sigh, you lowered yourself into the steaming bath. 

Your tense back eased in the boiled water, tight limbs relaxing and becoming loose with every given second. It had been a productive day; from traveling to a village located on the far east coast of your home to trade for rare enchantments, to completing the final exterior of your farm, you felt the need to reward yourself with a heated bath. While it had taken time to hand heat each cauldron of water and transfer it to the tub, the ends were justifiable as you lowered yourself further to embrace the stinging warmth. 

Head tilted back with eyes closed, the water met your grimy hair and soothed each strand, practically massaging your tender scalp. You welcomed the feeling with a groan, embracing yourself under the water surface to gather more warmth as if it were possible. 

As you reached over the table behind you for the essential oils you recently traded, the rattle of your locked front door echoed throughout your house before strong banging replaced the sound. Opening your eyes slowly, you paused to think to yourself. No one should be here. 

It had been months since you had been forced to move out on your own, but in that time you had yet to tell anyone of your location, deeming it unsafe until you understood who stood where and for what. A warrior with no war to fight and sides that demanded blood for precariously unjust reasons, you knew when to take a stand and when to take leave from a battle that would only end in loss.

Brisk knocks impeded your thoughts, the unknown intruder seemingly becoming more impatient with each rapid knock. You quickly raised yourself out of the tub and rushed to change into anything appropriate before confronting the possible assailant. Grabbing the closest weapon, it being your crossbow, you loaded a poisoned tip arrow in case of subduing the target and crept towards the front door. The pounding knocks had lost strength by then, but you were still on edge and pushed yourself against the door, listening for any threatening movement. 

The silence continued to ring, and while you trained yourself to be patient in the face of danger, you decided to strike first. Gripping the door handle, you clenched the knob and breathed in before unlocking and swinging it open, crossbow aimed as you met the cool air. 

The forest was cold at this time. The thick massive branches upon each tree shielded any below from the moonlight, encasing the woodland in darkness and leaving all as blind prey to monsters that roamed the night. While cautious enough to light the vicinity surrounding your home to ward off creatures, you knew better than to light enough lanterns to invite wanders near your home. Given those precautions, you were surprised to be met with the sight of someone injured on your front porch, someone you knew and dreaded at that. 

Laying there before you was the legendary, pink haired Blood God himself, the man slumped on the wooden stairs, axe beside him, currently bleeding out. 

Shaking off the initial shock at the sight of him, you scanned the immediate area of the landscape before racing to aid the half-piglin. 

Despite being aware of his genetics and built strength, you didn’t anticipate how heavy he would be from simply dragging him into the living space. Huffing strangled breaths, you dropped him near the fire place and rushed to build the fire before assessing his injuries. 

At quick glance, you could discern the bloody claw marks that tore through his clothes and ran predominantly deep along his neck line; however, upon closer inspection you noticed an arrow wound below his breastplate that he must have pulled out in adrenaline during the encounter. He was ambushed and surrounded in the dark of the night. 

While you knew he could defend himself in almost any situation, you also knew that anyone with even the best skillset could struggle against an uneven matched mob of ravage, mindless beasts. You grabbed the necessary first-aid supplies and equipment, as well as your saved healing potion you brewed for such an occasion, before kneeling to address the wounds.

Soaking a clean rag with the glimmering, vibrant red brew, you took the remaining concoction within the glass and tilted it into his agape mouth, hand beneath his raised head as you positioned him enough to unconsciously swallow. Once you were certain he could internally heal from the damage, you removed his armor and worked to clean and heal the largest wounds while preparing to stitch him close. Even breaths and the occasional fire crackle filled the empty silence, though you were too focused to notice, attention solely on the gory sight until the final knot tie. After that, you finished wrapping his torso and bandaged the smaller cuts. 

Letting out a sigh of relief from completing the harrowing task, you rubbed your forehead in exhaustion before scanning him once over. You paused as you settled on his face, his expression calm and in eery peace despite his condition and the blood that still coated his cheeks. Staring at him for some time, you rose to walk into the kitchen and filled a small bowl with clean water, returning to settle back down next to him and wringing the copper stained rag in the bowl before dabbing the towel along his features. 

You couldn’t help but observe his handsome face, taking in each scar and the light stubble growing from his chin to neck. His eyelashes fluttered as you gently brushed each streak away while his lips were slanted in a thin line in spite of each small graze above them. The faint lighting complimented his every angle, giving him a soft, heavenly glow that radiated his beauty. You had obviously noted his attractiveness from afar before, it being almost impossible to ignore. Even so, none of those past moments allowed you to look close enough to recognize the delicate details that adorned his face and gave character beyond his striking personality.

Regardless of the fact that you were never romantically involved, you had held a past with Technoblade before your departure. From the very moment he had arrived to aid his brothers in combat, you both grew a mutual respect for one another, on the battlefield in addition to each other’s presence. He showed loyalty beyond political matters and relied on intelligence besides power when in combat against another. His compassion to those dear to him was distinct yet subtle, and he never failed to compliment you with every win during sparing matches with humility and constructive praise. As time continued on and the war became costly, you soon realized you had fallen for him in the midst of conflict. Even if there was no greater battle in the forefront, the idea of admitting your vulnerability scared you beyond admission. Never, in your life, had you have to come to terms for caring about or for someone that it weakened and consumed your mentality entirely. He inhabited every thought, every choice you made from then, and it only escalated your inner conflict from there.

Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit had been your closets allies before the election; they relied on you as much as you relied on them. While you had pledged allegiance to them initially, you couldn’t help but doubt their motives as war became imminent, especially when Wilbur devolved into something unrecognizable. The past became a feeble attachment as Wilbur lost his drive and sanity while Tommy was still a child, too young to face more bloodshed, let alone his second time. 

When you originally confided your opinions to him, Technoblade had comforted you. He validated your viewpoints and basically agreed with every impression you made; however, he did nothing to support any action to prevent the warfront. While you had always admired his dedication towards his own principles in life, you saw them then as a fault for he refused to abandoned the lost cause in hopes of further proving his agenda against governmental authority that destabilize a people and ideal. It hurt to admit your fears and for him to not follow suit, especially when you expressed your desires to abandon the cause entirely. 

You had fought against him on it for weeks until he snapped one day. 

He said things to you that stung, calling you an enemy that didn’t fight for anyone but yourself. It was the first time he raised his voice at you threateningly and that you were genuinely afraid of him. Eyes a dangerous, deep red, Technoblade stood above you in a light you had never seen; you now understood why he was feared in opposition. You cowered, taking in all of his harsh words as if a child were berated for their choices and wants. His words cut deep, yet his final ones hurt the most. 

“If you want to be a coward, then leave.” 

And leave you did. 

His face held no remorse then, and with burning eyes and an aching heart you ran and never turned back. A small part of you wished you had admitted what you felt, yet in the end, his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand what he thought of you, and you proved it to yourself when conciously running away from it all: you were a coward afraid of their own emotions.

While Technoblade gave you reason to leave, you justified your departure to your own understanding. Your loyalties lied with the people instead of the endgame, yet the ones who you thought would stand by you seemed more driven for their own victory than a defining purpose. You wanted no part of it.

Glancing up when he started to shift in his sleep, you realized you were crying from the sudden recollection. It had been some time since you thought of your past, his simple presence bringing back unwanted and ashamed memories. Wiping the fallen tears harshly, you noticed your hands were caked in his blood and scowled in distain of the overwhelming smell.

Deciding it would be best to stay up and watch over him for the night, you got up to properly clean yourself and change. Before you could leave the room, however, you made the effort to lay a blanket over Techno and rest a pillow beneath his unruly hair, purposely undoing his braid and tenderly combing through the tangled locks. 

He softly hummed from your touch and leaned into your palm, your fingers freezing from the movement. It was a sight to see the ever so violent ‘Blood God’ unguarded from your affections, and the thought alone discouraged you more. Even after running all this way, I still can’t escape you, huh?

[god1ngs]

━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

helloo🤍 I wanted to ask if you can write something with mob!Tom where he’s at the club because of a business meeting making some deals and the reader also comes to the club even though Tom told her not to come because it’s dangerous and something happens to the reader and Tom is really overprotective. Angst with fluff at the end🥺

Totally understand it if it’s to much and you don’t want to write it!! It was just an idea 🥰

Absolutely, I’m excited to do more mob!tom, he’s my best friend tbh. Hope you like this one hun xx

Protective

Pairing: Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: angst, little bit of fighting, harassment

Summary: Tom is worried about having you around during his business meeting

Masterlist

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Tom had warned (y/n) on his way out that she should steer clear of the club for the night. Unfortunately for Tom, her best friend really wanted to go clubbing, and the other clubs in town made them pay for drinks so they weren't even considered. Plus no other club had Harrison, who (y/n)'s best friend wanted to hit on. (y/n) had tried to steer her elsewhere, warning her that Harrison was going to be working and she wasn't going to drink much, but she hadn't tried very hard.

Truthfully she just knew getting Tom a little riled up always lead to a fun night for her, and he'd looked too good on his way out for her not to mess with him a little. She was very disappointed when they entered the club and Tom was nowhere to be found, essentially leaving her little game pointless.

"Let's grab some drinks," her friend dragged her towards the bar and ordered a shot for them both, "Cheers."

"Cheers," (y/n) clinked her glass against hers before downing it.

A hand came down on her shoulder as she set the cup back down, "What are you doing here?" Tom hissed in her ear.

"Sasha wanted to go clubbing," she turned to him, a sly smile playing at her lips.

He flashed Sasha a tight lipped smile, "We'll be right back."

(y/n) rolled her eyes, letting Tom pull towards the back door, "You two couldn't go to any other club in the city?"

"Drinks are free here," she shrugged, "What's the big deal? We aren't gonna bug you guys."

"The big deal is that I told you not to come," he snapped. "The people we're meeting with are dangerous, I don't want them to even know who you are, let alone be in the same room as you."

"I think you're just a little paranoid Tommy," she frowned, setting a hand on his cheek, "If they don't know my relationship with you then I'm just another girl in the club, I'm sure they'll leave me alone."

His face was locked in an angry scowl, "You're not just another girl in the club, you stand out like a sore thumb, I already know they're going to notice you."

She glanced down at herself with a frown, "I do not, I look perfectly normal."

"You do not," he scoffed, "You're like the sun, everyone notices you."

"That is so cute it almost makes me want to listen," she nuzzled her nose against his, "I'm going to enjoy my girls night though, you're welcome to join me when you're done."

He shook his head, "No, when I finish we're going home and then you're never leaving the house again."

She laughed, "Okay, whatever you say Tommy," she kissed his cheek, "Enjoy your meeting."

He rolled his eyes, "Please be careful."

"I will, but you have to be careful too."

He nodded and kissed the top of her head, "I will."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The night continued as planned, (y/n) danced with Sasha until she found a boy to dance with instead. Then (y/n) took a seat at the bar, sipping at a drink and making small talk with the bartender while she waited for her friend to get bored.

"Hey," Sasha grabbed her arm with a smile, "Would you be okay if I took him home with me?" she peaked back at the boy she'd be dancing with.

(y/n) laughed and nodded, "Of course, have fun, and be careful."

She nodded, pulling her friend into a quick side hug, "Tom won't be much longer right?"

"No, he should be wrapping up soon, go enjoy your new boy toy," she waved her off, watching as she weaved her way through the door.

"Tom's having his meeting down in the basement," the bartender butted in as Sasha left, "You could head down if you want."

She shook her head, "Tommy doesn't want me anywhere near whatever they've got going on."

"Well Roger and his men don't exactly have the best reputation," he hummed.

"Neither does Tom."

He chuckled, "Yeah, you've got me there, but Tom's a good guy, he tries to do the right thing where he can. Roger's the opposite, totally dick, he doesn't care who he has to hurt to get what he wants."

She frowned, a sudden worry settled in her stomach, "You said their in the basement?"

He raised a brow, "I thought he didn't want you down there?"

Usually she didn't worry too much about Tom's work, she tried to push aside any thoughts about how dangerous it was. "Yeah we'll it's good for him to not get what he wants every once in awhile," she hoped off the bar stool and weaved her way through the crowd towards the basement door, where a bouncer named Jeff was assigned as security.

"I'm gonna step down and see Tom," she smiled, reaching for the door.

He grabbed her wrist, "He said specifically not to let you in."

Her jaw nearly hit the floor, "He was kidding obviously, let me in."

"He wasn't kidding."

"That asshole," she swore under her breath, "Okay, well, can you send someone down and just ask how long he's gonna be?"

"They won't be much longer," he assured.

"Hey man, if the pretty girl wants in why don't you let her in," an arm snaked around her waist, a tall, lean man, smiled down at her, "She can sit with me."

"I'm only gonna tell you once to keep your hands on her," Jeff warned.

"It's fine," she assured, removing herself from his grasp, "I was just saying hi."

"This your girl or something?" the tall man snickered at the bouncer.

"No, the boss's," he corrected, "Look you keep bugging her I'll escort you out. And I'll be doing you a favor, because if Tom finds out he'll probably shoot you."

He laughed, "You're Tom's girl? No way!" he seemed unphased by the bouncer's warning as he set a hand on her shoulder, "You really managed to tie him down? That's incredible," his eyes wandered her figure, "I think I get the appeal."

"Great," she pushed his hand off, "Look you can just go back to your meeting now."

"Oh don't worry talking to you is much more interesting."

She rolled her eyes, "Okay, well I'm going home not talking to you," she glanced towards Jeff with pursed lips, "Can you just tell Tom to call me when he gets done?"

He nodded, "Of course, have a goodnight."

"Yeah, you too," she brushed past the men to head to Tom's car, deciding she'd just wait there with the driver.

Suddenly she stopped though, freezing as a hand brushed over her backside. A small pinch that made her turn back to them instantly. The tall man winked at her while Jeff seemed oblivious. She tensed, unsure if she had really felt anything, but of course the wink told her she must have. She didn't know if she should say something or not, an odd feeling of embarrassment bubbled in her stomach. Rather than voicing anything she decided just to leave, and pushed her way through the club as quickly as possible.

Once she entered the car she rolled up the partition, telling the driver she had a headache. She sat in silence as she replayed the small event in her mind, trying to figure out why it had happened. Without warning tears began forming in the corner of her eyes, she wasn't even entirely sure why she was so upset.

When Tom called her she didn't answer, just hugged herself tight and tried to stop crying before he reached the car. She was unsuccessful though, tears were still streaming down her face when he arrived.

"Angel what's wrong?" he frowned, instantly filled to the brim with concern.

She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, "Nothing, it's not really a big deal. I just want to go home."

"Obviously it's a big deal if you're crying about it," he closes the door behind him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Did you and Sasha have a fight?"

She shook her head, "No, no, she's out with a guy. It's really not a big deal I'm just being dramatic," she insited.

"Alright, why don't you just tell me what it is then? I'm sure you'll feel better if we talk about it."

"I just went over to ask Jeff if I could come down and see you and one of the guys from your meeting just started talking to me. I don't know, Jeff like told him to leave me alone and that we're together and he was just being annoying and he just like, well, I don't know. Maybe it was something else but I thought he like, pinched my ass while I was walking away. I thought maybe it was nothing but then he winked at me so I'm pretty sure he did."

The anger was evident on Tom's face, bubbling just under the surface, "And did Jeff kick him out?"

"No, he didn't notice so maybe nothing happened but I think it did. I don't know Tommy, it's a stupid thing to cry over. It happens to people all the time, I just need to get over it."

He shook his head, "It's not stupid, you have every right to cry and be upset. And it's not okay just because it happens all the time," his cheeks dusted pink as he pulled her into him, letting him cry into his shoulder, "I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened, and I should have been with you tonight."

"You don't need to look over me all the time Tommy," she sniffle, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"I want to. And I kept going on and on about you being safe tonight, and I should have stayed with you so I could make sure you were safe. But it's not your job to comfort me right now okay?" he kissed the top of her head, "I'm so sorry that happened to you angel, I promise I'm going to do something about it. In fact if you weren't so upset I'd be out there looking for him right now," he hummed, "I'd probably shoot him, but just in the leg or something because I know you don't like it when I get violent."

"Cause you're really a softie," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Just for you," he kissed her head again, "I'm a dick to everyone else."

"A little bit," she agreed, "Can we go home now?"

"Of course, and next time I promise I will be right there with you and I will make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again."

"Thank you Tommy," she wiped her eyes and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, "For tonight though, I just wanna go curl up in bed."

He nodded, "Then that's what we'll do."

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader / The Parent Trap - Final

Summary: When the identical twins Billy and Tommy Maximoff are sent to the same summer camp, they hatch a plan to get their mothers back together by switching places. Or, The Parent Trap AU.

Read on AO3 - Complete

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of language.

Notes: Tumblr won't let me answer anyone's comments, but don't think I didn't read yours in the first part post!!! Thanks for all the replies. Happy reading. Also, gif is not mine, and is absolutely perfect.

PART I 

Wanda was not going to the camp.

Billy and Tommy were not the least bit happy about the news, but she insisted that it was best that they get used to Tabitha's presence in the family. You ignored the part of yourself that wanted to beg Wanda to go, and acted like a grown woman and more importantly, a committed one.

Wanda waved to you from the porch of your house while Nat gave you a wry smile and a look that said "we'll be talking about you the whole time" as you drove off.

At least the drive up to the mountains was quiet, you sang songs on the radio with the boys while Tabitha filled herself with repellent while she complained about the weather.

It was good to be in nature. You and Billy had made it a late summer ritual to spend time camping for a weekend and it was always great fun. 

You were optimistic that it would be even more special now that Tommy was present.

- Hurry up, please. We have to arrive before sunset. - You told the three who were following you down the rocky path with difficulty. 

- I need to drink some water and breathe, okay? I'll catch up with you. - says Tabitha, looking tired. She sits down on a rock next. You want to reach the place where you're staying before it gets dark, so you just nod in agreement and keep walking.

You have just walked a short distance when you hear your fiancée's scream. You run back the way you came and find her waving her hands in the air as if she had seen something.

- Tabi, what happened? - you ask worriedly.

- A monster attacked me! - she exclaimed with a mixture of disgust and fear, pointing at something on the ground. You looked in the direction and found only a frightened lizard, lying against one of the rocks, and let out a chuckle. Tabi then turned to the boys next to you with an angry expression. - These little brats have something to do with this!

- Come on, Tabitha. Stop it. - You scold her. - We have to go, okay? Hurry up.

You think harmony has improved when you're all sitting around the campfire.

- Those damn mosquitoes seem to like this stuff! - grumbled Tabitha angrily at your side. You frowned curiously.

- Let me see what you're using. - You took the transparent container, and twirled it around in your fingers. Then you sprinkled some on your own hand and smelled it. And then you giggled. - You'll attract all the bugs in the world with this. It's sugar water.

Tabitha let out a disgruntled sigh as she threw the package on the floor.

- Aren't you going to eat dinner? - you ask, noting that she was the only one who didn't help herself to the trout.

She lets out a wry chuckle.

- No, thanks. - She says. - I don't eat that stuff. I'll wait for breakfast. What are we having?

- Trout. - Your children answer in unison in a wry tone. You find it funny but prefer not to laugh.

- Great. - Tabitha rebuts impatiently. And then she gets up and says she's going to bed. You are trying to keep the little bit of trout left from burning, and are slightly startled when you feel Tabitha's hands on your neck. She gives you an open-mouth kiss, and you feel really uncomfortable. You don't notice the look of defiance she throws at your children. - Good night, honey.

- Good night. - You mumble with confusion at such a sudden display of affection.

You end up going to bed very late after Tabitha leaves. Much because your children are extremely more talkative and comfortable when she is not present. And then you spend hours listening to history of the camp and of Tommy, whom you knew so little about but loved so deeply. Maybe you ask too much about Wanda, but Tommy doesn't mind telling.

You send them to their tents as Billy begins to doze off against his brother. You can't help but think about how much you will miss the other half of your family when they return to London.

You awake in fright to the sound of a distant scream. You stumble between the blankets to open the tent, and when you pop your head out, you frown at the image of an angry, and completely drenched Tabitha walking toward where you were coming out of the lake.

You hurry out of the tent.

- Tabi, what happened? - You ask but take a step back when she continues to advance aggressively towards you.

- Here's the deal girl. - she says angrily as she catches up to you. - The day we get married, I'm going to send these brats to the first Swiss boarding school I can find! You choose now, me or them!

- Them. - you say without hesitation, a smile escaping your lips. 

- I beg your pardon? - Tabitha asks incredulously.

- Them. - You repeat, then spell it out. - T-H-E-M. Got it?

Tabitha starts flailing in front of you with high-pitched screams and pushes you away. You roll your eyes impatiently and turn back to your tent to pack up.

Tommy and Billy are laughing in their tent but you don't scold them.

You park the car in the doorway while you help the kids down with their bags. Wanda gets out on the porch and walks quickly over to you.

- You are back early. And where is Tabitha? - she asks, frowning. You let out a humorless chuckle.

- We had a little disagreement. - you say as you put one of the larger backpacks on the floor. And then you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a ring. - She threw this in my face.

- Damn, I'm sorry. - Wanda said, but she didn't really seem upset.

- Oh, no. It's okay. - You said. - I think she finally showed me who she really was. Nature does that to people. - You remark with a light humor in your voice, and then hand the boys their backpacks. - How long are you two boys grounded anyway?

- Until college. - They respond grumpily as they walk back to the house.

You lean against the car with your arms crossed.

- Are you really all right? - Wanda asks.

- Yes, Wands. - You assure her. - Tabitha really thought she could send my children away from me. 

- What?

You laughed humorlessly, and told Wanda about the outburst the other woman had had. The redhead seemed really angry, but you told her not to worry about it, the marriage was undone now, and Tabitha would not be coming back into your lives.

- I think I'd like a drink. - You remark. - But I'm going to take a shower first. Will you join me? - Wanda's cheeks flushed and she raised her eyebrow. You felt your own face heat up and quickly clarified. - I meant the drinks. Later.

- Of course. - She says simply, looking down at the floor. You hurry inside without knowing much of anything to say.

You eventually discover that Natasha is not home when you finish dressing and go downstairs to the kitchen. Wanda is sitting on one of the stools on the counter, reading the newspaper, and lets you know that Nat and Pietro have gone on a tour that she was sure consisted of Natasha showing Pietro places to drink in California.

- I guess dinner will be on me then. - You remark as you open the cupboard.

- Do you cook now? - she asked as she put the newspaper on the counter and leaned her head on her hands to look at you.

- Oh yes. - you say in a slightly ironic tone. - I know how to make pasta. And pasta....

Wanda giggles.

- Pasta sounds delicious. - She says smiling gently at you. 

- Of course it does, I'm a great chef. - You joke while separating the ingredients.

When you are finished, you carry the boys' dinner to their rooms before returning to the dining room. The boys comment that you look nice, but you just smile and close their door.

You and Wanda sit on opposite sides and you try not to get used to the feeling of sharing a meal with her. It is so easy and cozy to have her in your home. 

- You know you can tell me what you want to say. - Wanda comments after a few minutes since you have been eating in silence. - You don't have to put on your contemplative face and be completely silent.

You bite back a smile on your lips. It was almost embarrassing how easily Wanda could read you.

- What I want to say doesn't need to be said. - You retort with a hint of humor in your voice. Wanda raises an eyebrow in surprise and defiance.

- Try me.

You smile, but feel embarrassed. Then it's easier to roll your eyes around the room and gesticulate while talking.

- I was thinking how nice it is to have you here. - You confess. - How easy it feels, and how good it makes me feel. And I know I shouldn't think so, but I do. Is that enough for you, darling?

Wanda seems shocked, to say the least, by your honesty. Her cheeks redden, but she holds her gaze.

- Yeah, I, too, feel the same way. - she says finally.

You try not to smile so much, and focus on finishing your dinner, while Wanda does the same.

After you have washed the dishes, you mention that drink from earlier.

You take Wanda to your personal wine cellar. You know it's intimate and romantic, and exactly the kind of thing you would do on a date, but it feels so natural that you barely think about it.

You go downstairs to the wine cellar, while you walk with Wanda at your side among the stands, showing her your favorite wines.

- Oh, you'll like this. - You comment as you lead her to a small cabinet. You open the cabinet to reveal dusty bottles. - These are special wines for me. - You carefully grab one of the bottles, and show it to Wanda, while trying not to be too affected by having her so close to you. - This wine I had at my graduation.

- Wow, Peru, 1745. - She comments rubbing her finger on the bottle as she reads the date. You stored the item afterwards. 

- This here is the wine I got at Steve's wedding. - You say pointing to the bottle on the far right. And then you bite your lip, deciding on the next one. - And this one. - You pick up one of the bottles from the top. - This one is very special to me.

You handed the bottle gently to Wanda, who analyzed its contents.

- The Avenger, Sokovia, 1421. - She read it with a small smile. - Why is it special?

You smiled at her, your hands in your pockets.

- It's our wedding wine. - You said. - It took me a long time to find it, but now I have every bottle ever produced.

- Oh.

You thought you were too close, because you could feel Wanda's breath against your face. And you were terrified, but you stepped forward. 

- We can't... - she whispered as your foreheads touched. You sighed, and then stepped away just as she took a step back. You swallowed the tightness in your throat when you saw the thick tears in her eyes.

- Why not?

Wanda gently shook her head in denial, but she did not cry.

- You don't always have to be so brave. - You told her, feeling your own heart break at the rejection.

- But I do.

And then you heard the sound of the car in the garage, indicating the return of Pietro and Natasha, and the moment was broken. Wanda handed you back the bottle of wine before rushing out, and you wiped the tears from your eyes as you put the drink back away.

And then Wanda was leaving. And it was raining heavily.

You pushed all your feelings to the back of your mind, and remained tender and calm while your children said good-bye to each other, and Billy to his mother. You thought that crying would make them more nervous. And then you hugged Wanda tight before letting her go again.

As Billy and Natasha walked them to the taxi, you let the tears flow. And then you realized that you would not go through this again. You couldn't lose Wanda twice.

You have about a two-hour head start when you arrive in London with Billy. And then you are standing in the doorway of Wanda's house, and you are trembling. Billy holds your hand when you knock.

Erik Lehnsherr is old. That's the first thought that comes to your mind when you see Wanda and Pietro's father. And he seems relatively surprised to see you too, but the shock only lasts a minute, the next he smiles and hugs you tight.

- Look at you, rebenok. - he exclaims happily as he pulls you into the house while grabbing Billy’s hand. - You look beautiful! 

When you go in for tea, and you explain that you would not leave Wanda again, you also find out that he helped Billy get Wanda to London and you are immensely grateful. And you talk for a long time, until Wanda and Billy arrive.

- Dad! We are home! - You hear Wanda shouting around the place. 

- Hey, Grandpa. - You hear Tommy enter Erik's office, assuming that whoever is behind the desk reading the paper is the man. But it's Billy who puts down the paper, and greets his brother back. - What are you doing here?

- Billy! - exclaims Wanda in surprise as she enters the room. Billy gets up from his chair with a huge smile on his face.

- It took about 5 seconds after you left for us to realize that we couldn't let you go. 

- We? - asked Wanda unsure.

You stepped out of the cover of the pylon you were standing on and made yourself visible to Tommy and Wanda.

- We. - You checked with a smile. - I already made the mistake of not going after you once, Wanda. I will never do that again.

- What... what do you expect me to do? - Wanda asks in a tearful and slightly ironic tone, and you begin to walk slowly towards her. - That I say we will work this out? An intercontinental relationship with our children being raised here and there... and we... We pick up where we left off. Growing old together... Is that what you want?

- Yes. - You whisper as you reach for her and lift your hands to her face, wiping her tears gently. - Yes to all questions. And don't forget our happy ending.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, and then you kiss her. It's sweet, and tender, and energizes your whole body, and melts your heart. The kiss is like coming home.

You get married on the same ship where you met. This time Pietro and Natasha are the best man. The cake is very good, and the boys get a stomach ache from eating so much. Steve, Tony, Bucky, Sam, Thor, and many more of all their mutual friends show up at the party. 

You think your life has never felt so complete.