#i completely understand his reasoning behind what he says about tommy

[mishtershpock]

.

[kinardsevan]

i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[joelscruff]

beyond infatuation (joel/f!reader/tommy) 18+

(this is such silly and self indulgent gif usage but also it's funny to imagine that this is how joel asked to start this arrangement in the first place lmao)

summary: joel & tommy have an arrangement where they share you, no strings attached. (no jealousy in this fic, nothin' but love) rating: 18+ explicit (minors don't interact) warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, cucking (i guess??), praise kink word count: 1.2k

You stay the night at Tommy's without meaning to. You'd had a long day helping out at the farm and it doesn't help that both Tommy and Joel have kept you awake for long hours this week. Not that you're necessarily complaining.

You'd shuffled into Tommy's house with a sleepy expression, body already loose and ready to climb into bed. He'd taken one look at you and dashed over to pick you up, carried you bridal style into his bedroom and laid you down.

"Do you need anythin', sweetheart?" he'd asked softly, carefully undressing you as you closed your eyes and melted into his sheets.

There was a reason you'd gone specifically to Tommy's and not to your own house; part of you still wanted something before you drifted off, something only Tommy and Joel know how to give you. Seeing those big eyes looking up at you with sheer desire but no expectation... you couldn't help yourself. You'd nodded slowly as Tommy had removed your jeans, pointed to your crotch. He'd understood immediately.

A few moments later his nose was buried in your dripping heat, tongue plunging in and out of you at the perfect speed as you moaned into his quiet bedroom and let yourself just feel him. It didn't take long for you to reach your climax, writhing and shaking against his mouth while he swallowed you down and gripped your hips tightly.

"Goodnight, sweet girl," he'd murmured as you felt yourself fall into sleep, vaguely aware of him scooching in beside you on the bed and spooning you from behind.

Now it's morning and you're laying languidly in Tommy's bed, still naked and reveling in the fact that you finally have a day off. You turn in bed and find that Tommy has already left for the day, though he left you a sweet little note telling you he'll miss you but that Joel will be stopping by during his lunch break. You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to the paper; you love your romantic boys.

You busy yourself in Tommy's kitchen, not bothering to put on any clothes or get ready to head home. If Tommy told Joel you're here, there's no need to leave. Like clockwork there's a knock at the door around noon; the special knock - Joel.

"Come in," you call from the kitchen, seated at the table munching on the sandwich you'd made.

Joel enters with a soft expression, not even surprised to see you sitting in Tommy's kitchen completely naked. You smile up at him sweetly, taking one more bite of your lunch before putting your arms up in expectance. Joel understands without any words being said, picking you up just like Tommy had last night and carrying you back to the bedroom.

"Tommy said you worked hard yesterday," he murmurs to you as he lays you down on the bed, "Said he gave you a little reward before you went to sleep."

You nod, "He did."

"It's my turn now, darlin', got about half an hour before I gotta head back," Joel replies, fingers tracing over your naked body with abandon, "What do you want? I'll give you anything you ask."

You don't know what you did to deserve two men who will do absolutely anything for you, be whoever you need them to be. You bite down on your lip and stretch your arms and legs out on the bed, loving the way Joel ogles you from above.

"Fuck me, please," you say softly, "Deep."

There's no hesitation or misunderstanding in Joel's actions; he knows exactly what you mean, knows exactly how to please you. He's already rock hard when he pulls his cock out of his pants, not bothering to undress; he knows you like it when you're naked and they stay clothed, especially for quick moments like this. He wastes no time in pushing his cock inside your wet pussy, already stretched out and ready for him from the amount of times you've been fucked by both of them this week.

"Hold on to me, babygirl," he whispers, then pounds you the way he knows you like as your nails dig into his shirt, stained with dirt and smelling like wood shavings from working in construction all day. You love how they both have such different feels, different scents. You love how their cocks feel different, love how they fuck you in their own ways but always in the exact way you need them to.

"Joel," you whine in his ear, "Joel."

You both hear the special knock again from the other room; Tommy must have also wanted to stop by for his lunch break. Joel doesn't stop or slow down, just calls out, "Bedroom," and continues to fuck you good and hard.

Arms wrapped around Joel as he pounds you deep, you look up with hooded lids to see Tommy leaning against the doorframe, watching. He smiles at you when he sees you looking, crosses his arms and assesses the way Joel fucks you into the mattress, his mattress.

Anyone else would probably be jealous, shocked, might get angry or leave. But Tommy and Joel are the ones who came up with this arrangement in the first place; there's no jealousy or anger here, only your pleasure. That's all that matters to them.

"Yeah, that's right, give it to her," Tommy murmurs under his breath, barely loud enough to hear over the springs of the bed squeaking with Joel's thrusts, "Nice and deep, the way she likes."

"You know I am," Joel grunts, then pulls his face back to look down at you, "Aren't I, darlin'? I'm fuckin' you so good, huh?"

"Yes," you manage to squeak out, brows furrowing together as you feel your release building in your stomach, "So good, Joel."

It only takes a few more thrusts before you're shaking beneath him from your orgasm, moaning out his name and shutting your eyes tight. You know Tommy is still watching, can feel his eyes on you as Joel pounds into you one final time before emptying himself inside you, filling you with come.

"Fuck," you whimper, collapsing beneath Joel onto Tommy's bed and feeling your eyes roll back when he pulls his cock out.

"Look at that," Joel says softly, more to Tommy than to you, "You seein' what I'm seein'?"

"Jesus," Tommy mutters, and you open your eyes enough to see them both staring at your fucked-out hole, watching Joel's come dribble downward into the sheets, "Filled her up real good."

You lay there catching your breath while both Tommy and Joel spring into action for your aftercare, Joel slipping into bed beside you to hold you close and whisper praises in your ear while Tommy wets a washcloth and returns to wipe you down, pressing kisses to your tummy and thighs. You've never felt as loved as you do after they're done with you, the way they both make sure you're well taken care of and satisfied.

"We gotta head out now," Joel murmurs against your hair, "You go back to sleep and enjoy your day off, okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, eyes closed as you start to drift off again, "Love you. Both of you."

"We love you too, angel," Tommy says from somewhere to your left, reaching down to stroke your cheek gently, "We'll see you again tonight."

You feel Joel kiss the back of your neck just as Tommy leans down and kisses your forehead. Heaven. You're in heaven.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 4)

Summary: As you begin an uncertain period of recovery, Tommy is left to decide what's best for you.

Author's Note: This is an accidental series 🙈! For some reason I can't stop thinking about this couple. Ty to all my lovely readers who have kept me inspired by leaving such wonderful comments!

Warnings: child loss, manipulative behavior

Part 3

“Who am I?” Tommy repeated your question back to you in a hoarse whisper, his throat going dry as he realized you didn't recognize him. "I'm your husband, Thomas Shelby," he issued forth with authority, feeling a chasm open within his chest at the thought of you belonging to anyone but him. His hurt manifested in a sudden flicker of rage behind his eyes, causing you to jerk your hand away. The speed of your reaction surprised you, but not so much as the instinctual sense of fear coursing through you.

Pulling the blankets up to your chin protectively you muttered, "I'm sorry, I-I'm trying, but I can't seem to recall."

You sounded so weak and helpless before him, Tommy softened instantly at your apologetic tone. All the tension he held in his shoulders fell away as he offered a word of encouragement. "That's alright," he said gently. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you sniffed appreciatively, feeling the throbbing ache return to your temples. No matter how you tried, you couldn't place him. While he had a handsome face, you knew you'd never seen him before in your life and that shook you to your core. The deep emotion behind his words made the situation worse, knowing he expected you to speak with equal passion. The whole ordeal was rather taxing in its complexity and you felt yourself becoming tired yet again.

"I think I need to rest," you informed him as you felt your eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

"Of course," Tommy replied. "If you need me, I'll be right outside."

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

"What are sayin'? She don't remember nothin'?" Arthur asked, leaning in to study Tommy's perplexed expression.

"No," Tommy said simply as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe it's for the best," Arthur offered quietly.

Tommy snapped his head sharply as he demanded, "What the fuck did you say?"

Arthur ducked his head submissively as he mumbled, "Sorry, Tom, I meant the accident. She shouldn't have to think about it."

"No," Tommy murmured as he stood deep in thought. Then his face slowly began to lift as he considered his brother's words. "You're right. Perhaps it is better this way."

"How do you mean?" Arthur prodded, suspicious of Tommy's sudden change in demeanor.

With a glimmer in his eye, Tommy proclaimed, "I couldn't make her understand before, but now I have another chance. It's a whole new beginning."

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

You opened your eyes with a start as the gravel crunched beneath the tires, signaling your arrival at Arrow House. "We're here, darling," Tommy announced triumphantly. Hastening to open your door, he helped you to stand with the utmost care.

Despite the dreary weather, you squinted against the daylight, unaccustomed to being outside for any length of time. Leaning into Tommy's strong arms, you whimpered at the pain at the base of your badly bruised spine.

"I'll have Frances bring the morphine as soon as you're in bed," Tommy promised in a soothing voice. You smiled up at him, wondering how someone could love you so completely. Though you still couldn't recall a single memory of your life together, you'd come to trust his recollections as replacement. He'd dedicated the better part of a month sharing photographs and stories at your bedside to ensure you knew every detail of your charmed life.

In that time, you also spoke of your future, with Tommy frequently expressing his desire for a son. The tenderness in his voice convinced you to lean into the first kiss you'd shared since your accident, a languid embrace which set you ablaze with need.

However, renewed anxiety and emotion swirled in your gut as he informed you of news from the doctor. Nuzzling his nose against yours Tommy promised, "We can try again soon. With any luck, you'll be pregnant again before Christmas." He lovingly rubbed a thumb along the base of your neck and you only hoped he couldn't feel the way your pulse thumped in terrified response.

"It's going to be everything we ever dreamed of," Tommy mused, oblivious to your panic.

Part 5

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[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 10

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

In all your years working in film, you couldn’t recall a single production that you weren’t looking forward to wrapping. And yet, here you were, the last week of filming, and you didn’t want it to end. Why would you? You’d never had this much fun on any other set before, the reason for which was currently in your bed, snoozing next to you. But it wasn’t just the fact that you were secretly sleeping with the star of the film, though that was a large part of it, you’d admit. 

Tom’s seemingly endless positivity as well as his intense passion for his craft was infectious. Practically everyone agreed that Tom was one of their favorite actors they’d ever worked with. So you knew that anyone you worked with going forward would pale in comparison. 

Your biggest concern, however, was how much time the two of you would be able to make for each other once you weren’t on the same schedule anymore. After all, you were both workaholics, not to mention Tom would have more opportunities to make other friends, so the possibility of the two of you drifting apart was very real.

“You okay?” Tom’s sleepy mumble pulled you from your thoughts. 

You turned onto your side to see that his eyes were still closed. “I’m fine,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

He blearily opened one eye to look at you. “Your tossing and turning says otherwise.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No need to be sorry,” he replied with a yawn while he draped his arm over your waist and began lightly tracing patterns on your back. “What’s on your mind, Sweets?” Recently he began occasionally shortening ‘sweetheart’ to ‘Sweets,’ something you’d only heard him do with you.

You sighed, instantly feeling relaxed by his touch. “Just the fact that we’ll be wrapping soon.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned as he pulled you closer. “What on earth am I going to do without you putting your hands on me all day everyday?”

“I think you’ll survive,” you teased him. “I’ve got to give someone else a chance, haven’t I?”

He chuckled. “I haven’t even got my next project lined up and already you’re trying to pawn me off on someone else.”

“You were going to get bored of me eventually, Tommy. I’m only preparing for the inevitable.”

“How could I possibly get bored of you? There hasn’t been a single dull moment since this production started, for better or worse, and that’s largely because of you.”

“Well, unfortunately, it isn’t up to you or me whether we work together again or not.”

“I mean, I could potentially influence a director’s decision…”

“Absolutely not. You know the rules, Hiddleston. No professional favors.”

“Only joking, darling,” he defended. “But are you sure you’ll have time for me once you’ve started working on another film next week?” 

“Well, I’ve got to have some way to relieve tension after a long day, haven’t I?.” With a devilish grin, you leaned in and kissed him slowly and sensually.

“Unless you start a fling with one of your new clients,” he teased you once your lips parted.

Your mouth fell open in an incredulous gape. “I am nothing if not professional!” He gave you a skeptical look. “You are the rare exception.” When he opened his mouth to speak, you immediately added, “and if you mention Trevor, I will knee you in the dick!”

“I was simply going to say that I’m honored to be your rare exception.”

“Mhm. Sure you were.” You rolled your eyes. 

“So what exactly is bothering you then?”

You sighed. “Just anxious about starting a new job, I guess.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and then slid his hand down your neck to your shoulder. “While I completely understand, I also know that you’ll adapt seamlessly to whatever is thrown at you. I mean, you had to deal with me of all people, so your next clients should be a breeze!”

“You know, you might be right. I’ve never met anyone who touches their hair and face more than you do.”

“Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with liking to touch and be touched,” he said, dragging the back of his index finger lightly across the skin of your breast and over your nipple.

“No, I suppose there isn’t,” you replied with a smirk. You bit your lip while your hand traveled down to his half-hard cock. “And here I thought you were still sleepy.”

“Well, we have to find some way to tire you out, now don’t we?”

…

The week flew by, and before you knew it, you were getting ready for the wrap party. Given how the last party went, you and Tom had decided that this time, neither of you would flirt with anyone, and you’d politely shut down anyone who tried. 

You were just putting on your earrings when you heard Tom pull up to your house in his jag. You quickly grabbed your clutch and met him outside. 

He was leaning against his car when he saw you walking out in your navy blue sundress with a plunging neckline. He raised his eyebrows as he looked you up and down. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go change.”

“What?” You looked down at your dress in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we agreed that we didn’t want anyone else flirting with either of us,” he began as he walked toward you. “And yet here you are looking absolutely irresistible.” 

You put your hands on your hips and smirked up at him as he approached you. “I’m sorry, but I get dressed up for me and no one else.”

“Well, if you won’t take that dress off then I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.” He gave you a sly smirk before taking your hand and leading you toward your house.

You giggled as you tried pulling him back toward the car. “Thomas William! We are going to be late!”

He let out an exasperated sigh and turned around to let you drag him to the car. “But that dress is coming off the moment we get back to my place tonight!” 

“Whatever you say, Tommy.” You winked at him as you got into the car.

…

When you arrived at the party, everyone was in good spirits, clearly excited to be finished with production. Tom, of course, was immediately summoned by several people to join them. He looked over at you as if he was torn between socializing and spending the whole night with you. 

“Go mingle,” you told him. “I’ll be at the bar with Kaitlyn.”

“Fine, but remember, darling,” he leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Tonight you're mine.”

It sent a shiver down your spine and heat to your core. “Oh really? Because I think you’ll find it’s the other way around,” you replied, and with a wink, you turned and headed to the bar, knowing he’d be watching you walk away.

“Well, don’t you look like a snack,” Kaitlyn said as you walked up to her. “Who are you hoping to go home with this time?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “No one. I am not having a repeat of last time.” You sat down on the bar stool next to her. “Can’t I just look hot for the sake of looking hot?”

“Absolutely, you can!” Kaitlyn replied enthusiastically, raising her drink to you. “Though I do hope you’re prepared to be hit on at least once or twice tonight.” She giggled and took a sip. She was tipsy already.

“Then I hope whoever does is prepared for rejection.” You turned to the bartender who had just approached you. “Aperol Spritz, please?” 

“Are you certain there’s absolutely no one here who you’d spend the night with if he asked?” While taking another sip of her drink Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows while her eyes darted in the direction of where Tom was standing and then back to you. 

You scoffed. “Oh come off it, Kait. How many times do I have to tell you that we’re just friends.”

“As a person with the ability of sight,” she emphasized dramatically, “you cannot tell me you don’t want to climb that tree.”

That made you laugh. “Just because you fancy him doesn’t mean everyone else does too.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re right, I am, because it’s a silly question.” Again, you turned to the bartender who handed you your drink. “Thank you so much.” Kaitlyn opened her mouth to speak but you stopped her. “Look, Kait, can we just drop it? I just want to have a fun last hurrah with everybody tonight, alright?”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, like a child who’d just been told by their mum that they couldn’t have the candy bar they wanted.

…

After a couple of hours of socializing, swapping stories from on set, and occasional stolen glances between you and Tom, the pair of you ended up in the middle of a circular booth with Warren sat next to Tom, and Kaitlyn next to you.

“Ooh! Let’s play Truth or Dare!” Kaitlyn suggested excitedly.

“I dunno, Kait,” you hesitated. “Isn’t that game more for children and American frat boys? Not to mention we’re in public.”

“Oh come on! Live a little!” Warren chimed in. “Besides, if you don’t want to do something, all you have to do is finish your drink instead!”

You looked to Tom for back up. “Could be fun,” he shrugged. You raised your eyebrows at him, surprised he was on board with this idea. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “Alright, fine. But the minute it gets weird, I’m out.”

“Yay!” Kaitlyn cheered and clapped her hands. “Who wants to go first?” She looked eagerly around the booth. 

“I have one,” Warren said casually. “Tom, truth or dare?”

“I suppose. I’ll have to say dare,” Tom replied confidently.

“I dare you to deliver a toast to the whole room,” Warren began. 

Tom scoffed “Easy enough.”

Warren held a finger up, “But you must work the word ‘dildo’ into your speech.”

“I’m so glad we can play this game as mature adults,” you commented sarcastically. 

Tom thought about the challenge for only a few seconds before getting up to stand on his seat and deliver his toast, and it was magnificent. The entire room was captivated by the eloquence of his moving yet, at times, rather humorous speech. You even saw a few people tear up. The most impressive part to you, however, was how seamlessly he worked in his challenge word where you’d least expect it, and without anyone even batting an eye.

Warren stared at Tom in awe as he sat back down. “Are you just effortlessly good at everything?”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” you said, pointing your beer bottle in Warren’s direction. He nodded in agreement. 

Tom waved him off. “I’m rubbish at loads of things– maths being just one example– but the oral arts are kind of my specialty.”

While you almost choked on your beer and subtly kicked him under the table, Warren just laughed. “I‘ll bet they are!” 

Kaitlyn blushed. “Shall we continue our game?”

“Alright, Kait,” Tom said. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she responded without missing a beat. “I have nothing to hide.”

“If you could go home with anyone in the club tonight, who would it be?”

Kaitlyn turned bright red, “Erm, on second thought…” and downed the rest of her drink.

The rest of you laughed and cheered her on as she chugged. Once she finished, you nudged her with your elbow. “Nothing to hide, huh?” You gave her a cheeky wink as she scowled at you. 

“Fine then,” she said, regaining her confidence and looking smugly at you. “Truth or dare?”

You smirked, knowing that if you said ‘truth,’ she’d ask you the same thing Tom had asked her, and you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss someone at this table.”

Warren and Tom both oohed scandalously, but you were unphased. Oh, innocent little Kaitlyn. You were willing to bet that she thought that Tom would be the clear choice, given that Warren was gay and you and Kaitlyn were both straight, but you were more than prepared to throw her for a loop. You looked round the table, as if you weren’t quite sure what you would do. Then, without warning, you kissed Kaitlyn full on the lips, being sure to show her what an amazing kisser you were, no matter who was on the receiving end. When you finally pulled away, she looked like a deer in headlights. You tipped your beer to her. “Ask and you shall receive, m’lady,” you boasted before taking a swig.

Tom and Warren both laughed, but you felt Tom’s hand briefly give your upper thigh a firm, lingering squeeze before retracting. Somehow you could tell that it wasn’t so much playful as it was possessive. It made you wet, and you weren’t wearing any panties. You crossed your legs and cleared your throat. 

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Kaitlyn asked in awe.

You smiled proudly. “Loads of experience, my dear.”

“I believe it’s your turn, darling,” Tom interjected with what almost sounded like irritation.

“Right. Kaitlyn, truth or dare?” 

Her expression turned from awe to indignation. “What? But no one’s had a go at Warren yet!”

“You’ll have no complaints from me!” Warren assured with a chuckle.

Kaitlyn huffed. “Fine. Dare.”

“I dare you to finish one of those abandoned, half empty drinks over there.” You pointed to the vacant table across the room. 

She looked at the drinks in question with a grimace, which quickly turned to a look of determination. Then she stood up and made for the abandoned table.

“Atta girl!” you encouraged her.

When she reached her destination, she casually leaned against the high top table while she scoped out her options. 

“She’s not going to do it,” Warren said.

“Oh have a little faith, will you?” you chided him.

Sure enough, Kaitlyn chose her chalice and downed it in one gulp, wincing as she swallowed. You all cheered as she walked back to the booth. When she sat back down, Tom reached across you to give her a high five. “Well done, Kait!” When he settled back down, he draped his arm across the back of the booth behind you and you could have sworn he’d moved a little closer to you. Smooth, you thought. 

And on you went with the game, telling juicy, innocuous truths and doing silly little dares until Kaitlyn decided to switch things up a bit.

“I have a dare for all of us!” Kaitlyn announced. “Though maybe it would be considered a truth… Not sure. Anyway! Let’s do a round of Fuck, Marry, Kill!”

“Who are our choices?” you asked.

She looked at you as if it were obvious. “The people at this table, silly!” You wondered if she’d gone from tipsy to drunk at this point.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Tom asked Kaitlyn.

“It’s all in good fun!” she replied. “And I already dared you all, so you play or you drink! I’ll go first.” She looked around the table as she contemplated her answer. “Well, if that kiss was any indication, I think I’d fuck Y/n, marry Tom– because I think he would make the cutest hubby–” Yeah, she was drunk. “And kill Warren because I can’t fuck him or marry him, no offense.”

“None taken,” Warren replied.

“Who’s next?” Kaitlyn asked excitedly.

You sighed dramatically, “If I must.” You proceeded with the first thought that popped into your head. “Fuck Tom– because why not–” you began, hoping to sound as flippant as you intended. “–marry Warren so we can fuck whoever we like with no complicated feelings–” You and Warren high-fived. “–and kill Kaitlyn for making us play this horrid game.” 

“You bitch!” Kaitlyn gasped playfully.

Tom raised his hand slightly. “I’ll go next, if I may.” Suddenly you found yourself very curious and a bit anxious for his answer. “Between the three of you, I’d have to say, Fuck Warren– could be fun,” he added with a wink.

“Yes, Daddy!” Warren responded seductively. 

Tom chuckled as he continued. “Marry Y/n– because she’s my best friend, obviously– and kill Kaitlyn.” He turned to her. “Sorry love, but you were the only one left.”

While Kaitlyn looked thoroughly disappointed, you and Tom just laughed, though you felt something in your stomach that you couldn’t quite place. Meanwhile Tom’s ears, cheeks, and chest were bright red. Was he embarrassed? Whatever it was, it was pretty damn adorable.

“I guess that leaves me,” Warren said, pulling you away from your thoughts. “I mean, obviously I’d fuck Tom, but then I’m out, because whether I marry Y/n or kill her, Tom would kill me either way.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, I would absolutely kill you if you killed Y/n, but why do you think I’d kill you if you married her?”

Warren looked skeptical. “Are you saying you wouldn’t?”

“Not at all,” Tom replied, only semi-convincingly. “In fact, I’d give you my blessing.”

“Looks like we have a wedding to plan,” you joked as you raised your beer bottle. “To me and Warren!” Tom and Warren joined in your toast, while Kaitlyn still sulked.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that all three of you said you’d kill me?” she interjected. 

You put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Aw, darling, you know we all love you. It’s just a game! One you made us play, I might add.”

“Can we just go back to Truth or Dare?” she pleaded. 

“Alright,” you conceded. The two men groaned. “But just one more.”

Kaitlyn immediately perked up. “I have one for you and Tom, actually.” Uh oh. “Truth or dare?”

At this point you didn’t know which would be worse. “Dare? I guess?” You looked at Tom for confirmation and he sheepishly shrugged. Then you looked back at Kaitlyn, wincing in anticipation for what was to come.

A devious smile stretched across her face. “I dare you to kiss each other.”

“Must you be so adolescent?” you complained, though, admittedly, you kind of saw this coming.

Before she could respond, Tom swiftly grabbed your face and kissed you hard on the lips. Your eyes went wide as soon as your lips made contact, but you quickly melted into it. Well, if you were going to do it, you might as well make the most of it and give everyone a good show. You climbed on his lap, his hands moving to your waist, and the two of you continued to snog shamelessly. All the while, not only were Kaitlyn and Warren clapping and cheering, but you realized the entire crew had stopped what they were doing and joined in the applause with various whoops and wolf whistles. Some shouting “Fucking finally!” while others gave you the classic “Get a room!” Without missing a beat, you and Tom both flipped everyone off without even coming up for air. 

When your lips finally parted, you did so with an exaggerated bravado, before turning to Kaitlyn. “There,” Tom said between panting breaths. “Happy now?”

She let out a squeal that made you and Tom flinch. “Are you kidding? You guys are the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen!” 

You let out an irritated sigh. “Yeah. Not a couple.” You looked down at Tom. “And I think that’s our cue to leave. Shall we?” 

“Right behind you,” Tom said as you climbed off his lap.

“Noooo,” Kaitlynn whined. “You can’t leave now!” 

You gave her a commiserative look. “Sorry, Kait. This was loads of fun, but I’m tired.” She folded her arms and pouted. “Make sure she gets home safe, yeah?” you told Warren before you and Tom made your way toward the door. 

“Oi!”  Warren called as he caught up to you. You and Tom turned around. “So how long have you two been shagging then?”

You both feigned confusion. “What? Pfft. That’s just… we totally aren’t…” you both stammered incoherently before quickly giving up. “Since the beginning of production,” you admitted in defeat. 

“I knew it!”

This time your confusion was genuine. “How?”

“My ex and I used to kiss the way you lot just did.”

You and Tom shook your heads. “Like Y/n told Kaitlyn, we’re not a couple,” Tom explained.

Warren chuckled. “A couple of idiots, more like,” he said, almost to himself. “Have a goodnight you two!” And with a wave he turned and walked back over to Kaitlyn.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” you wondered aloud as you watched Warren walk away..

“I don’t know,” Tom replied. “But I’ve had a semi since you got off my lap, so I’d really like to get back to mine so we can finish what we started.”

You snickered and gave him a playful shove before quickly walking out the door with him at your heels.

…

During the entire drive to Tom’s place he kept his hand on your thigh, like he needed to be touching you at all times, staking his claim. It was only making the heat in your core worse, and you found yourself getting wetter by the second. Finally, when you arrived in Tom’s garage you went to open your door, eager to get in the house, but Tom stopped you. 

“Stay right there, darling,” he told you. He got out of the car and walked around to your side to open your door for you, holding your hand to help you get out and stand up. As soon as you were standing and the door was shut behind you, his fingers tangled into your hair, bringing his lips to yours in a feverish kiss. You both sighed and whimpered, desperate to satiate the hunger you’d felt for each other all day. He pressed your back up against the car in an attempt to deepen the kiss, his fingers digging into your hips. “You won’t believe how many men I caught staring at you tonight,” he panted between kisses. “It was infuriating.” 

“Is that why you did Kaitlyn’s silly dare and kissed me in front of everyone?” you asked as he began kissing your neck. 

“I had to show all of them who you belonged to tonight now didn’t I?” He lifted his head and smirked at you while he slipped one hand under your dress, his fingers grazing against your slick inner thighs until they found your naked slit, dripping with arousal. He tilted his head as his mouth fell open and his jaw jutted forward. “Had I known you weren’t wearing any panties, we would have left the party hours ago.”

You felt his middle finger glide through your folds and ghost over your clit, ushering a gasp from your lungs. Then you smiled. “And spoil the surprise? I think it was far more satisfying this way.”

Suddenly he crashed his lips against yours, your tongues tangling frantically. Reaching down between your bodies, you clamored to free his cock from his slacks. Once you’d done so, you slipped your hand in his pocket and pulled out the condom, effortlessly tearing it open and rolling it on without even looking. Tom then grabbed your legs and hoisted them up, hitching them over his hips before thrusting into you. The sound of panting, grunting, and moaning filled the garage as he rolled his hips relentlessly into yours. Your fingernails clawed at the back of his shirt, while he gripped your ass with one hand and fondled your breast with the other. Your moans grew louder with every thrust, his length gliding in and out of you at an angle that felt so incredible, it quickly sent you over the edge. He pressed his forehead to yours and gave a few final thrusts as you both came at the same time, gasping and moaning in time with each other.

After he stilled, you both stayed there for a moment, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths lingered in the air. Finally, he gently let your feet touch the floor again before resting his hands on your waist and lightly rubbing the tip of his nose across your cheekbone and temple. 

“I thought you said my dress would come off the moment we came back to your place,” you said, still catching your breath.

“Well, technically, we’ve not gone in the house yet,” he countered. “And I couldn’t have possibly waited another second before I had to have you.”

“That’s rather fortunate, because neither could I.” You giggled as he kissed you again, this time more slow and sensual. When the kiss ended he looked a bit dazed. 

“Now off you pop to the bedroom, Sweets. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder

[tartarusknight]

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 3

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve wasn't planning on actually becoming friends with Hellfire. Not after the obvious way he made them uncomfortable. So, after Eddie helped him, he said to himself that he was done... then Billy picked on him again, and Eddie came to the rescue again. Honestly, it was like Eddie became his white knight.

And Steve... Steve could take care of himself. However, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be their friend. He hated the way he jumped at the chance to just go to watch them playing a game like he couldn't even stop himself.

Steve didn’t understand why he offered to go watch them after swimming. No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it.  He wanted to go. He loved listening to stories. He loved hearing people talk about something they were passionate about. So, it sounded nice. But when lunch was over and he tosses his untouched meal, he regretted it. They were just pitying him and he didn’t need to force his shit on anyone else.

So, he decided he’d just ignore them until they forgot about him completely. It was the day after Hellfire, so he’d have an entire week to become a background thought. It shouldn’t be too difficult… most people only knew Steve’s top layer. People left him behind all the time, Hellfire wouldn’t be any different. After all, everyone who had learned who he was, left him. His parents were gone more than they were around. Nancy called him bullshit after he let her in. Tommy and Carol, his best friends from elementary school, had used him to become more “powerful” and “cool”. Hellfire would be the same way; he knew they would.

Except, they didn’t just let him disappear. Grant would wave at him in the hallways with a kind smile. Gareth had the same free hour and suddenly Steve didn’t sit in the library alone. Eddie would constantly find him during lunch and offer a seat which Steve had turned down with a polite smile. Always saying he needed to work on school shit. (Which was never a lie. His head swam, trying to keep up in class after Billy bashed his head in.) However, the first real interaction with Hellfire was with Jeff.

It was Saturday and Steve stood in the supermarket. The kids were coming over later in the day and Steve got a call from Lucas’s mom asking him to not buy her son junk food. And well, Steve knew how to cook. However, his house was completely void of any food. He hadn't felt the need to cook if it was just himself lately… After that night Steve’s stomach rebelled against most foods.

He was staring blankly at the meat section for, what could’ve been, a long time when a hand dropped on his shoulder. Steve flinched away and his body went into fight mode before he noticed Jeff. He dropped his hands and gave the other an extremely fake grin. “Hey man,” he smiled and Jeff looked him over as if he could see right through Steve.

“I thought it was you. Your hair is very distinguishable.” He joked and Steve let out a small chuckle.

“Well I’m called The Hair for a reason,” his voice didn’t hold much joy in it and he winced.

“So, what brings you here?” He asks lamely.

Jeff shrugs, “gotta pick up stuff for my mom. Same for you?”

Steve huffed a laugh, “nah, she’s not in town. But I’ve got a few of the kids coming over and need to make them something that their parents would approve of.” He over-explained but Jeff just nodded.

“Struggling with a plan?” He asked like he wanted to talk with Steve. “Not a big cook?” He asked when Steve didn’t respond.

It makes him smile, “oh I know how to cook. When your al-” he stops himself with clearing his throat. “Nah, just not really feeling meat at the moment.” He gestures and when his gaze hits the bloody meat he shudders.

“There are lots of meatless options out there.” Jeff offers and Steve freezes, he hadn't even considered that. After all, he was told every meal needed a good amount of protein. “My sister doesn’t eat meat. So we’ve learned how to work around it. It’s a little different but still,” he shrugs and Steve’s brow furrowed. “It’s a little hard to get the hang of right away but with practice, you should be able to get it down.”

That makes Steve frown, “I don’t really have the time to experiment.” He swallows and looks back to the meat selection.

Jeff nudged him with his shoulder, “If you want I could help. I’m not that busy today.”

Steve felt something swell in his chest. “Really? I don’t want to be a-”

Jeff scoffed, “please I’d love to help. Showing off to King Steve. It sounds like fun. Plus, then I have an excuse to leave the house.” Steve nods and Jeff gestures him to follow. Jeff puts things in Steve’s basket with an explanation to what he’s planning and Steve just nods. He also helps Jeff get the stuff for his mom before heading to his house.

He only has a few moments alone in which he grabs out his stereo and sets it on some rock station he figured would be more Jeff’s speed. Then he cleans the dust off his counters and waits for the other. It doesn’t take too long and Jeff takes off his shoes politely before he follows Steve into the empty shell of a house. “Okay, are you ready?” Jeff questions and Steve nods. They work together, Jeff giving him instructions. However, they also talked about music, Steve mostly just listened as Jeff explains some songs that he likes. It’s nice. It’s like having a friend and it makes Steve’s hands shake. He didn’t want to let them in. And yet he let Jeff into his house.

They end up making Vegetarian Enchiladas. It’s filled with corn, beans, and zucchini. Topped with cheese, avocado, tomato, and parsley. However, Jeff makes them look normal and Steve hopes the kids won’t notice. “I’ve got two younger siblings. My sister doesn’t do meat and my brother refuses vegetables. I’ve gotten really good at making a vegetarian meal that he will eat. Don’t worry the kids will just think you made them normal enchiladas.” Jeff says and Steve leans against his counter, so fucking thankful.

“So, you cook normally?” Jeff questions as Steve grabs them both out a soda he got for the kids.

He nods, “yeah. My mom’s not one to cook” at least not for me. “So, I’ve learned.” He does look at Jeff and his shoulders slump. “Thanks for the help, man. It was really appreciated. Honestly, it’s a big help. I have to repay you, or something.” He states and Jeff looks confused.

“No need, it’s not a big deal.” He stated but people weren’t nice without wanting something in return. Not many people were kind as they grew up.

Jeff seemed to see Steve’s confusion and sighed. “You know what, how about you bring cookies or something to Hellfire’s next meeting. You’re still stopping by after swimming, right?”

It was a chance to get away from going. Steve could just say, no man something came up. But instead, he grinned, “yeah of course. Any allergies?”

“Grant’s allergic to tree nuts,” Jeff offers, and Steve’s phone rings. “But I’ll get out of your hair, just remember they cook for 12 minutes at 400.” He reminded and headed out. Steve went to the phone as the door to his house shut. Why couldn’t he let go of the Hellfire club?

@zerokrox-bloglog @cyranyxx @adaed5 @the-redthreadd @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaringceyoustopcaring @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshitorthisshit @failedstarsandgoldencloudsds @bisexualdisastersworldd @deadlydodoss @anythingyouwanttobee @nburkhardtt @bestwifehaverr @thehumblefigtreee @megzdoodlee @swimmingbirdrunningrockk @mightbeasleepp @bxlthazarar @autumnal-dawnn @nelotegreitic @chillichatss @nonbinary-eddie-munsonon @the-daydreamer-in-the-cornerner @eddie-munson-is-my-wifewife @a-little-unsteddiedie

(Sorry if I missed any of you!!! Please remind me if I did!)

(No actual Steddie but just some good old CC content. I want more than just Steve and Eddie to become friends. I want the whole CC to adopt the jock&lt;3<3)

[allthesmutl0vers]

The Weight of Blood: Tom/Theo/Draco/Regulus/Fem!Reader (Part Ten)

MDNI, 18+.

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated. 🫶🥹

Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Theo Nott x Draco Malfoy x Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

TW: Death, Threats, Gore, Betrayal, Heartbreak

A/N: I promise there will be a happy ending, at some point. 🫠

Chapter Ten

Y/n 

“I had a lot of fun today. Thank you,” I murmur against Reggie’s lips as I sit in his lap in front of my fireplace. 

Reggie pulls back and looks into my eyes with a gentle smile. “Good, I’m happy you enjoyed it, my love,” he brushes my hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “I had a lot of fun too. You’re so beautiful when you skate. It’s like you become a whole different person.” 

I chuckle and shake my head. “In a good way, right?” I look into his deep brown eyes. 

Reggie pulls me closer as I lean my head back to rest on his shoulder, my head tilted to look up at his face as the light from the fire dances across his skin. “In the best way,” he gives me a feather-soft kiss on my forehead. 

I know I said I would wait to tell him, to tell all of them. But I’m so high on happiness, so completely sure about how I feel, that I can’t help but tell him right now. My heart races in my chest as I place my hand on his cheek and look into his eyes. “Reggie, I l—”

My dorm room bursts open, and Tom, Theo, and Draco come through like a wild tornado, effectively scaring the fucking shit out of me. “Merlin! What the hell is wrong?” I stand from Reggie’s lap as Tom makes his way to stand in front of me. 

“We have to go,” he cups my face with a fierce expression on his face. “Pack a bag, we can come back for the rest later,” he tells me sternly as Draco and Theo look around my room. 

“What? Why?” I pull away from Tom, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Tom?!” I call his name as he turns around and grab his arm, pulling him to turn and face me again. “Tommy, stop! What’s going on?”

Tom clenches his jaw and looks at Reggie behind me, completely ignoring me. “It’s time,” he says to Reggie before turning to look at me. “Listen to me. We will explain everything as soon as we get you away from here. But I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?” 

I swallow and nod as my heart races for an entirely different reason now. “I trust you,” my voice comes out in a rushed whisper. 

Tom lets out a breath and cups my face in his hands and kisses me hurriedly. “Good. Pack a bag, and meet us down at the entrance. Speak to nobody. Do you understand me?” 

“I understand,” I swallow and look behind him at Theo and Draco, who are both wearing worried expressions. “I’ll meet you down there.” 

“That’s our girl,” Tom forces a smile and looks back at Reggie behind me. “Let’s go.” 

Theo rushes toward me and kisses me passionately without a word before he leaves my dorm with them, and my door closes behind them. What the hell is going on? Why do we need to leave? 

The questions rush through my mind as I shove clothes, some toiletries, a couple of my books, and an extra pair of shoes in a small suitcase. Tom said they’d explain once we were somewhere safe, but Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world. So why can’t we stay here? 

I rush through the common room, ignoring everyone around me, and run down the stairs to the entrance to the castle. Did Tom mean to meet him on the inside or the outside of it? I push open the heavy door and step into the chilly night air. The castle door closes harshly behind me. The ‘thud’ as it closes makes me jump. I set my suitcase down on the ground walk down the stairs, and cross my arms in front of my chest. 

“Tom?” I call into the night. “Theo? Dray?” I take a few more steps as I look around for them. “Reggie?!” I call for them a little louder. The wind bites at the skin on my legs as the wind starts to pick up. I hope nothing happened to them. They didn’t even tell me what’s going on. 

I start to get frustrated. Was this all just some prank? No, I don’t think they’d scare me like this on purpose. Tom said we were going somewhere safe, so what isn’t safe here? I let out a frustrated groan and roll my eyes. “Fucking boys,” I mutter and turn around. 

Strong hands grab my shoulders from behind, their fingers digging into my skin. Before I can turn around to see who it is, I feel myself being sucked away from the ground. I’m disapperating. The wind screams in my ears as I feel myself twist and turn, my body stretching like I’m being sucked through a long tube for a few moments before my feet land hard on the ground again. 

I suck in a precious breath of air and look up to see a tall man with long white-blond hair as he grabs me by the back of my shirt and drags me toward a massive mansion. I pull and fight, kicking and screaming as I try to pry myself away from him. “Let me go!” 

The man snarls and lands a hard blow on the side of my face with his palm. My ears ring with the force as the pain erupts on the side of my face. “Shut up, you revolting girl,” he snaps as he lets go of my shirt and grabs my wrists, pinning them behind my back as he shoves me toward the house. 

My eyes sting with tears as the pain from the slap radiates across my entire face. My head swims with confusion and pain as he forces me up the steps of the house, and the door opens to reveal a woman with clipped-back black hair on top and underneath the same white blond as the man forcing me into this mansion. “She wants her in the dining hall,” the woman grits out as she looks at me in disgust. 

“Very well,” the man pushing me grunts as he forces me inside. I throw my body and head back to fight his hold. The one thing my dad always taught me before he died was if I was ever kidnapped, never let them isolate me inside. 

“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, trying to wiggle and maneuver my way out of the man’s grip to no avail. “Help me!” I scream again before simply just screaming as loud and as high-pitched as I can. 

The tip of a wand points right at my face, held by the woman who opened the door. “Shut up! Nobody can hear you, at least, nobody who cares,” she snaps at me with narrowed eyes. “Keep your bloody mouth shut if you want a chance to live.” 

My heart pounds against my ribs with fear, and I clamp my mouth shut. I need to bide my time, the man hasn’t found or hasn’t noticed my wand in the back of my skirt. If I can get free of his grip without him finding it, I have a chance. I stop fighting as the man holds my wrists with a bruising grip and shoves me toward an open door. Inside, it looks like an abandoned ballroom, with tall glass windows lining one wall. If I can break them, I can jump out and run. We didn’t go up any more stairs, so I know I’m still on the ground floor. 

Standing on the opposite side of the room from the windows are two more men and women. From the looks of disdain and condescension on their faces, they’re going to be no help in my escape. “Check her,” one of the men steps forward. His hair is a curly dark chocolate brown, and he’s dressed in slacks and a white button-up shirt. 

Damn it, damn it!

The man holding my wrists pats down my sides and my back. “I’ll be taking this,” he seethes, pulling out my wand and shoving me to the ground in the center of the room. 

I try to catch myself, but I’m not fast enough. My face smacks into the floor on the same side he slapped me, and I feel my lip split as the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I spit the blood out onto the floor and move to sit on my knees before I try to stand. 

A sharp pain rips through my body as a woman from the side of the room casts a spell to bind me to the floor. I try to fight against it, but it feels like invisible wires cut and dig into my skin when I try. “Let me go,” I turn to snap at her. 

The woman laughs loudly and shakes her head. “I don’t think I will. Filthy little mudblood.” 

“Oh, how original. Did you come up with that?” I bite back as rage and fear rush through my body.

The woman’s eyes narrow on me as her lip curls up with fury. She flicks her wand, binding me tighter and pulling me closer to the ground with the spell. “How dare you speak to a true witch like that,” she snaps. 

“Give me back my wand, and I’ll show you how much of a true witch I am, you bitch,” I spit more blood onto the floor in front of me. 

I hear heels clack on the floor behind me and try my best to look behind me, but to no avail, as the invisible wires hold me too tight. “Let her go,” a woman’s voice that I don’t recognize says calmly behind me. I let out a relieved sigh as the hold on me disappears, and I scramble to my feet, turning to look at the woman who had me released. 

“Who are you? Where am I? Why did you take me?” I rapidly spit the questions out as I take in her appearance. Long, wiry black hair that hangs down to her waist. Her dress robe is entirely black with long, black lace sleeves. 

The woman smiles menacingly. “So many questions,” she quips as she steps closer to me. “Make the call,” she says to the man who took me standing behind me. 

“Yes, my lady,” I hear him say calmly behind me, and his footsteps recede before they disappear completely. 

I stand up straight, trying to stay calm as the woman steps closer to me. “You’re very pretty for a mudblood,” she tilts her head with amusement. “Tell me, what do you know of our mission?” 

I blink a few times with confusion. “What mission?” I look at her with furrowed brows. “I don’t even know where I am, let alone who you are!” 

The smile drops from the woman’s lips, and she raises a brow in confusion. “This is her, correct?” She looks at a man standing off to the side. 

The man steps forward, his hands behind his back. “Yes, Ms. LeStrange. This is the mudblood, I’m sure of it.” 

The woman nods once and turns back to me, drawing her wand. “Seems like you’re lying,” her tone hardens. “Not to worry, I’ll get the truth from you one way or another,” she smiles menacingly. She points her wand at me and flicks it. “Crucio.” 

My entire body erupts in searing, white-hot pain. I scream at the top of my lungs as my legs give out from underneath me, and I crumble to the floor. My body feels like it’s simultaneously being crushed and stabbed by a thousand burning knives. 

The pain dissipates, and the tears stream down my cheeks as the woman comes into view above me. “Are you ready to talk?” 

“I don’t know anything,” I choke out between sobs. The woman points her wand at me again with a tsk. “Noo!” I scream as the pain starts again, unable to do anything besides scream in agony as I writhe on the floor. 

Draco

“Fuck!” Tom shouts in anger, punching a nearby tree. My entire body shakes with anger and desperation. She’s gone. We were too late getting to the entrance. 

“I told you I should’ve stayed with her!” Reggie shouts, shoving Tom. “But no! You had to make the decision just like fucking always!” He shoves Tom again. 

Tom’s mouth curls with fury as he rushes toward Reggie, grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming his back to a tree. “You were supposed to keep her out of sight! Fucking idiot!” 

Theo shoves himself between them, pushing Tom away from Reggie. “Stop! This isn’t going to help!” He shouts, looking between them. “Reggie didn’t know she’d be seen!” 

“You’re taking his side?!” Tom fumes with rage. “He’s the reason she’s gone!” 

Reggie charges at Tom, landing a fist on his jaw, knocking him on his ass. “I told you we should’ve told her!” Reggie bellows. “But no! Tom knows best!” he seethes. 

Tom rushes to his feet, and Theo shoves him back. “Stop!” I shout at both Tom and Reggie. “She needs us, and you two are fighting like fucking children!” I snap at both of them. 

Reggie turns to me, glaring at me with narrowed eyes as he snaps back at me with a clipped voice. “Really? Where do you think she is right now, Draco? Huh?” Reggie takes a step closer and points his finger at me. “She’s at your house with them! And that’s if they haven’t…” his voice falters, and his chest heaves with heavy breaths, 

“Haven’t what, Regulus?” Anger floods through my veins. 

“If they haven’t killed her already,” Theo finishes with a low and shaky voice. 

A deadly cold feeling washes over me. “If they haven’t killed her already.” She could be dead, and my parents' hands wouldn’t be clean. 

My eagle owl, Ulysses, swoops down to land on my shoulder. I take the message from his beak and open it with shaky fingers, reading it aloud. 

“Draco,

We need you all here at the manor. There has been an attack at one of our safe houses, and we need to regroup.”

“An attack on a safe house?” Theo asks, confused. “There’s nothing there about y/n?” He moves to stand next to me, reading the note. 

“Does that mean they don’t have her? That they don’t know?” Reggie looks at me with furrowed brows. 

“It doesn’t say anything about her, just what Draco said. Should we go?” Theo looks over the note. 

I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It could be a trick. Or it could actually have nothing to do with her. I just don’t know.” 

Tom clears his throat and walks toward me and Theo with Reggie, looking at each of us. “We need to prepare for anything. We’ll go. If she’s not there, we can leave and look for her,” he looks at me with a narrowed gaze. “But if they have her,” he swallows. “I’m killing everyone who keeps her from us. That includes all of your parents.”

Theo lets out a shaky breath. “I’m with you, brother,” he puts a hand on Tom’s shoulder. 

“Me too,” I nod once at Tom. 

“I have all the family I need already,” Reggie puts a hand on Tom’s other shoulder. 

We disapparate and land right in front of the gates to the manor. The guard, Rick, takes one look at us and opens the gates. As the gates open, Rick clears his throat and looks to make sure no one else is around before he speaks in a low tone. “Brace yourselves, boys,” he warns. 

I take a breath and nod once as we walk through the gates and up the paved walkway. It takes every fiber of my will and control not to run in wand blazing, but it would only raise suspicions. If we play this right, we can find her and leave without anyone noticing. I know the entire manor, like the back of my hand. I can navigate the grounds, the cellar, and the house with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. 

Get in. Get her. Get out. Run.

But when we walk through the door, the entire plan halts just like our feet and our breathing when we hear her scream in anguish. 

None of us waits for an order, none of us gives our plan to be calm and collected a second thought as we burst through the door, only to be forced to stop in our tracks.

Y/n

The door bursts open just as Bellatrix, as I now know her, stops the cruciatus curse again. She pulls me to my feet, barely conscious, and forces me to look up. “Look who decided to join us,” she giggles in my ear. 

I can’t believe my eyes. Draco. Theo. Reggie. Tom. They’re here, they’re really here. They came to save me. “Let her go,” Tom steps forward with his wand drawn. I want to tell him to stop. I don’t want them to get hurt, but I can’t form the words, my body exhausted and drained. 

“So I guess it’s true, then?” Bellatrix grips my arms harder. “You four have turned sympathizers for this mudblood?” She tsks next to my ear. “Pity, pity. And here I thought you were my brave soldiers. As did your parents. Mr’s. And Mrs’s. Notts, Malfoys, and Blacks, I can’t imagine the shame they must feel at this moment.” 

Wait, what? These are their parents? No, no, how could that be?

“Drop your wands and kick them to me. I see one spell come my way,” Bellatrix puts a blade to my throat. “And I’ll her before you can blink,” her voice lowers threateningly. 

“Do what she says,” I look at my boys pleadingly. “I’m okay,” my voice comes out broken and cracked from screaming and crying. But I’d rather die than see them get hurt. 

One by one, they drop their wands and kick them over to me and Bellatrix, who kicks them behind her, the wood clattering across the floor. “My, my. They really do seem to have taken a shine to you,” she taunts in my ear. 

“We did what you wanted. Now let her go,” Theo warns. 

Bellatrix laughs with amusement. “No. I don’t think I will,” I feel her blade press harder into my neck, nicking the skin. “You see, you boys have a problem. You went and fell for a filthy mudblood. And what is the best way to solve this problem?” She asks with an amused hum. “Cut. It. Out.”

Tears stream down my face as I do my best to memorize their faces before I die. I feel the blade press further into my throat, and I close my eyes, telling myself that they’ll be okay when she kills me. 

“No!” I hear Draco scream before I hear him speak in a low, cracked voice. “Kill me instead.”

My eyes fly open as I watch Draco take a step closer. “Draco… No,” my voice comes out unsteady as I swallow against the blade pressed to my throat. 

The woman who opened the door when I was brought here steps behind him, grabbing his arm. That must be his mom. Draco yanks his hand away, and his jaw clenches as he speaks again through gritted teeth. “Let her go. Take me instead.” 

Bellatrix keeps her hold on me tight as she keeps the blade pressed to my throat. I can’t see her face, but I can feel her thinking behind me as her breath steadies. “What does she know?” Her voice comes out clipped. 

“She doesn’t know a thing,” Tom steps forward. 

Bellatrix chuckles behind me. “You really expect me to believe that?” She actually laughs. “Look at them,” she commands me when I try to look away. “It seems they deceived you,” she teases next to my ear. “Look at them. Standing there like heroes as if just a month ago they didn’t assist in a plan to enslave your kind.”

My stomach falls as fresh tears well in my eyes. I shake my head and look at them, at my boys. “It’s not true,” I mutter. “Tell me it’s not true…” 

When they don’t answer, I feel my heart shatter in my chest. “Of course it’s true!” Bellatrix laughs shrilly in my ear. “Why else would they bother with filth like you, hm?”

“Shut up,” Theo steps forward. 

“Have I told a lie, Theodore? If I have, please correct me,” Bellatrix taunts. Theo’s jaw clamps shut, and he swallows hard. “That’s right. You can’t because I haven’t,” she laughs. “Seems I’m the only one here who has bothered to tell this poor girl the truth.” 

“Y/n,” Reggie looks at me with a pleading expression. “Don’t listen to her. We were going to tell you. I swear on my life,” his voice comes out desperate. 

“Just do it,” I mutter under my breath. 

“What was that, dear?” Bellatrix asks mockingly. 

I look up at what I thought were my boys. They lied to me. They hid this entire thing from me, all the while swearing me honesty. They dragged the truth from my lips when I didn’t want them to, yet they lied to me like it was nothing. 

“Kill me.” 

Tom steps forward, and his voice comes out hard and dangerous. “No.”

“Don’t you want to know how I found out?” Bellatrix teases me. 

I shake my head, refusing to look at them anymore. “I don’t care. Just do it,” I choke. “Please.”

“Well, if you insist,” I feel the blade press further into my throat as I say a silent goodbye to my mom. Just as I feel her start to drag the blade across my throat and a few droplets of blood trickle down the front of my neck, I hear Bellatrix gasp behind me. 

The blade to my throat drops to the ground in front of me with a clatter, and I turn to look at her as she desperately grabs her throat. Blood flows heavily through her fingers as she drops to her knees, her mouth hanging open like a fish. I look up at the tall figure behind her. I’d recognize him anywhere.

Cormac. 

His voice drips with rage as he stares down at her. “Killing her wasn’t part of the deal, bitch.” 

I take a step back as her blood pools on the ground at my feet. “Cormac?” I look up at the man who I feared more than anyone. 

His eyes slowly wander up and lock onto mine. “Hello again, sweetheart,” he smirks. 

Tom comes up behind me, shoving me behind him as he puts himself between us. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Cormac smirks and cocks his head to the side. “Apparently saving the day,” he kicks their wands over. “I was promised she would be left alive. When I came here after leaving with Krum.” 

I watch as Tom’s entire body tenses. Clearly, I’m still missing something. Cormac looks at me again. “That’s right, sweetheart. While you were skating with Black,” he nods his head to Regulus, who stands at my side in front of me. “I was listening to your boyfriends tell Krum all about how they were only using you. Luring you into a false sense of security only to enslave you later.”

“That’s a lie,” Draco says harshly behind me. 

“What part?” Krum cocks his head with a raised brow. “About tricking her? About planning to enslave her and her kind? What about all the sweet little nothings you’ve all been whispering in her ear?” He smiles menacingly. “You’ve told so many lies, after all.”

“You bastard,” Theo spits. 

Cormac laughs. “You’re not wrong. I am a bastard. So are all of you,” he looks at all of them as they pick up their wands. “That only difference is I never tried to hide it.”

My mind swirls with confusion, anger, and heartbreak. I don’t know who I can trust. Before, I would’ve never thought I couldn’t trust who I thought were my boys, but now? I don’t even know if I can trust myself. 

Tom points his wand at Cormac. “Shut your fucking mouth.” 

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Cormac raises a brow. “Careful, Riddle. You already betrayed her. Are you really about to murder someone right in front of her?” 

Tom chuckles darkly. “It would appear so,” Cormac’s smirk falls as Tom flicks his wand. “Avada Kedavra.” A bright green light shoots from the end of his wand and lands directly on Cormac’s chest. I gasp and cover my mouth as his body drops to the ground, his eyes open and his chest unmoving. Tom turns around, not looking at me but looking at the people behind me. 

His voice comes out commanding, demanding respect as he looks at the parents in the room. “Anyone else?” Nobody responds as I turn around and see their shocked faces as they all cower back. “No?” Tom asks behind me. “Then go. You’re done here.”

“Don’t look,” Theo shields me from looking at the two bodies on the ground as the other people shuffle out of the room. He reaches for my face, and I back away. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Draco says, grabbing my arm and disapparating without giving me a chance to respond. 

We land on the grounds at Hogwarts, a dark blue casting over the sky, signaling that daybreak is near. Tom, Theo, and Regulus land on their feet a few feet away from me and Draco. So many questions, so many things I want to say rush through my head like a raging river, but I can’t bring myself to say anything as they lead me up through the castle, through the empty Gryffindor common room, and into my dorm without saying a word. 

Tom killed somebody. Murdered him in cold blood after he saved my life, regardless of all the things he did to me in the past, when it mattered… Cormac saved my life. They lied to me. Every. Single. Day. They lied every time I asked them what was wrong, and they said nothing. They lied every time they hid it from me. They lied when they said my blood status didn’t matter to them. 

They lied. 

I gave them my trust, my fucking heart, and they stomped all over it. My fear and heartbreak melt into a red-hot ore of rage deep inside of my stomach as they sit down on the couches in front of my fireplace. 

I move to stand in front of the fireplace, looking at them in a completely different light. I should’ve known, fucking Slytherins. They look back at me with concern like they actually fucking care what happens to me or what I think about what just happened. Suddenly, the collar around my neck feels like a gag, a fucking noose, instead of a display of their affection and what I mistook as love. 

“Take it off,” venom drips from my voice as I grip the collar around my neck. “Take. It. Off!” I raise my voice as my eyes fill with tears of rage and heartbreak. 

“You don’t mean that,” Theo looks up at me and swallows hard. 

“Take it off! I don’t want it anymore!” I yell, my body starting to shake with anger. 

Regulus stands and steps toward me, and I step away. His face falls as he looks down at me. “Please, just let us explain,” he reaches for me. 

I throw my hands up. “I don’t want to fucking hear it. Take it off. I mean it,” I spit at him. I look behind him at the other three. Theo’s eyes water as he clenches his jaw, acting like he’s about to cry. Draco’s eyes turn sad as he furrows his brows and Tom… He refuses to even look at me. Fucking coward. “We’re done.”

“Take that back,” Draco rises to his feet. “I mean it, y/n. Take it back.”

My jaw clenches as I respond through gritted teeth. “No. You said it’s my choice to wear it or not. I’m making my choice.”

Theo rises to his feet next to Draco and reaches into his shirt, pulling out a small key that hangs around his neck. A tear falls down his face as he removes it and hands it to me. “I’m sorry,” he chokes. “God, I’m so sorry.” 

I snatch the key from his hand and twist it in the lock in front of the collar before throwing it back at his feet. “Please, just hear us out,” Draco pleads as he pulls his key from the pocket in his jeans. 

I lean forward and snatch it harshly from his hand. I glare into his eyes as I twist the key inside of the lock and throw it at his feet as well. “Well?” I turn to look at Regulus in front of me, holding out my hand for his key. 

“Don’t do this,” tears streaming down his face. “Please, baby. I’ll do anything.”

I don’t wait for him to take the key from around his neck, I rip it from his neck as I twist the third lock on the collar. I drop the key next to me on the floor and shove past him to Tom, still sitting on the couch. 

“No,” he responds coldly as I reach out my hand for the fourth and final key. 

I clear my throat, fighting against the lump that formed there as I undid the other locks. “Give it to me, Riddle.” 

Tom looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “No.”

“I don’t want it anymore,” I spit at him as tears fall from my eyes. “I don’t belong to you anymore. I never fucking did.” 

Tom’s chest rises and falls heavily. “Yes. You do.”

“No, I don’t! Give me the fucking key!” I screech as he stands. I open my mouth to scream, to shout, to tell him how much I hate him when he does the one thing I never, EVER expected from him. 

Tom Riddle falls to his knees. 

“Kill me, do whatever you want to me,” his voice cracks as he looks up into my eyes. “Do anything besides take this key. Because if you take it,” a single tear falls down his face as he pulls the key from around his neck. “I won’t survive it. I don’t know how to live in this world without you.” 

I feel my resolve falter just a shred as I look down at Tom on his knees, telling me everything I want to hear. I sniffle, tears streaming down my cheeks. But then I remember the lies, the deceit, the murder. 

“You’ll find a way,” I take the last key from his hand and watch as his eyes move to my hands as I turn the last key and the lock clicks. I pull the collar from around my neck, suddenly feeling empty as I drop it and the key on the floor in front of Tom. “After all, you found a way to make me fall in love with you.”

Tom’s lips part as I fight the sob in my throat, blinking away the tears that won’t stop flowing from my eyes as I take a step away from him. “Get out.” 

Part Eleven

[chevelleneech]

The more I think about it, the more annoyed I am that they completely ignored Buck’s relationship with Hen, during his coming out. I loved him coming out to Maddie, because it was so him. He loves and trusts her with everything and is comfortably around her, so of course he’d slip up and come out. However! Buck loves Hen like a second sister, and she loves him like a little brother, so do you know how easy it would have been to have Hen, Maddie, and Buck out for coffee or at the grocery store, and him saying what he said, and slipping up in front of both of them!? And then the scene would have played so well, because on one hand we had Maddie seeming not nearly as unsurprised as she should have been, which, fine! If we had to have her not know, then so what. But Hen!? Hen knew, and they even had her make an off hand comment about it, so why starve us of her knowing before the rest of the team? Why starve of us of him having two people on his side, who he loves dearly, know this bright new thing about him, and not care? Because no one he loves cares he’s into men, and if they wanted to go forward with humor, having Maddie be like, “How did we get here then?” While Hen is like, “About damn time we got here!” While Buck is like, “I don’t know! How did you know!?” While he was also freaking out over the date going badly and lying to Eddie, would have fit perfectly well into the episode.

Uuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh. Season seven was so mishandled. They worried about too many things being stuffed into the season, that the smallest changes would have made it feel cozy yet emotional, instead of all over the place.

Season A-plot (not the first half the season, but the actual main, overarching story of the season) should have focused on Bobby’s descent toward commuting su*c*de, yet not succeeding, and finally and truly getting help for this aspect of his mental health, instead of being able to hide it behind his alcoholism and guilt. Then the next bulk of screen time could have focused on Eddie’s spiral into grief as he once and for all dealt with Shannon being gone and no longer having the life he spent so many years trying to force into fruition.

Buck’s storyline then could have been spread out, and they could have better built up him figuring out his feelings and desire to date men, even with Tommy being sprinkled in. Then Hen’s storyline could have also gotten fleshed out, because it would have been able to breathe, and give us a little more reason to even maybe understand the Councilwoman. I mean, imagine had they wrote her into the first two or so episodes during the cruise arc, with Hen and her becoming acquaintances and bonding over whatever, only for her son to then die and so on? Then the weight and stakes would have felt much more personal, because it’d be a woman Hen thought she’d become friends with, doing a total flip on her, and using her political pull to ruin Hen’s life.

We could have had so much! Bobby and Eddie regressing into their trauma, while Buck and Hen questioned themselves in terms of who they are and what they can or have provided to others, but no. Instead it was all rushed and half assed.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Imagine if Soap started seeing the ghosts of Tommy, Beth, Joseph, and maybe Simon’s mom? Like he has no idea who these people are but they are just like, ‘Oh my god…. That’s Simon’s boy’ and start hanging around

-Anon 🎧

Sadly in the official version of this AU, if they've ever been ghosts they have since moved on and disappeared, but this would be funny as an alternate universe of this alternate universe lmao

So I've written this, it's not really what you said but it's what came to me, maybe I'll write more later, as like a side story or something

"Who are you?"

Soap wakes up with a startle. There's a child standing next to the bed, frowning down at him. A dead child. For some reason he had almost forgotten that sometimes ghosts just come up to him on their own. Children especially, as if they were more discerning of his abilities than adults.

"Huh, hi, I'm Soap," he whispers back to not wake up Simon. Bug isn't anywhere to be seen, but that's not really unusual. His new found abilities to sleep don't work every night, and watching people sleep gets pretty boring. He's probably just roaming around the base.

The child frowns harder. He can't be more than four, with wavy dark blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a super-hero pyjama, blood dripping from the bullet wounds on his chest.

Fuckin hell... It never gets easier.

"You're not Uncle's boyfriend," the child pouts at him with all the might of a toddler.

"Uuuh," Soap hesitates, long enough for the arm around his stomach to tighten its grip, a clear sign that Simon is waking up.

"Wha's goin on?" The older man mumbles against his neck.

"There's a child," Soap answers, "I'm trying to understand what he wants."

"Hmm. Where's Bug?"

"I don't know-"

"Uncle Simon!" The child interrupts him gleefully, now beaming, his frown apparently completely forgotten.

Soap freezes. This man can't catch a break. How does he even go about this? A light thump coming from the door, followed by a "ow!" interrupts his panicking. The door opens right after and Roach comes in, rubbing at his forehead.

"Guys I know none of us know what's happening but I'm gonna need you to start researching, I can't keep becoming material randomly, it hurts and it's embarrassing when I'm spying on people - oh god."

"Uncle Bug!" The child yells again, bouncing on his heels.

Simon's breath quickens slightly behind him, probably still not used to seeing his dead lover, even after a couple weeks of this, which honestly Soap thinks is fair, before he tenses up.

"What are you both not telling me," he demands, sitting up in the bed.

"Are you a friend of my uncle, then?" The child turns back to Soap with less of a frown.

"Uh, no," Bug saves him from answering. "Well, yes, actually, but he's also his boyfriend, like me."

The little boy looks pensive, trying to understand. Simon grabs Soap's arm and turns him around, forcing him to look up at him.

"Johnny, talk to me." His voice is so gentle still, especially when he says his name, but Soap knows it's not a request. It's his officer's voice.

"Maybe ye should ask Bug...?" He tries.

"Bug isn't as easy to break as you."

And he's right. All it takes is for his eyebrows to start pointing up pleadingly and it's over. He's weak, what can he say.

"The child," he sighs, "he's calling ye Uncle Simon. He's basically a toddler, five at most, blond, with-"

"-Brown eyes," Simon interrupts him, looking like he was stabbed. "I know, I only have one nephew."

[brighttears]

Worship

Joel Miller x f!reader 

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Joel and you met on the road, and he fell for you hard. You’ve turned him into a romantic, and it all really comes out when you stumble onto an abandoned church and you look so good up at the podium that he has to do something about it. 

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: religious talk, hinted unspecified age gapJoel daydreams about marrying you, sex in a church, smut (minors dni!), unprotected PiV, creampie, super mushy romantic dirty talk, pet names (baby, angel, darling, sweet girl, lovely girl, my dove, my girl, sweetheart)

A/n: i'm back writing, kinda, for a minute!! I’ve had this unfinished for weeks and weeks and weeks but here it is!! Inspired by hozier cause yeah. Btw there’s a twilight quote ok. Made Joel some kind of fucking poet I love making him be head over heels. Anyways I also have a request coming soon and a multi-parter cowboy au that I’m gonna finish all the parts of (actually this time) before releasing it!! Hope y’all enjoy I’ve been missing this blog <<<333

—

He couldn’t have ever seen you coming, and he never could have predicted what you’d do to him. He fell fast, and he fell hard. When he felt it coming on, like a cold, one you know is gonna be long and nasty, he told himself he wouldn't. He couldn’t. But he had no choice. He was powerless over you; like a wave crashing down on him, you came. And how quickly did he drown, and how easily he gave in. 

You had ruined a part of him, that part that he uses so often—to not give in. You destroyed it in him, you the only person that could. So he gave up, falling to his knees before you. For you. Only for you. 

This is something he would have talked to Tommy about, but he’s still miles and miles away from him, so he was all alone in it, completely lost, and it was up to him to make his own rules, to try to wrap his head around it. And god, did he twirl, dizzy in the thoughts, considerations, indignation and desire and complete powerlessness. 

You’re sweet. Calloused, but in a way he’d never seen. You smile. You give. You touch gently. You offer with no means to an end, no expectations. You bury your dead and count your bullets, but god how sharp your eyes are over your scope. How easy you wield a knife, and god how good you look with blood on you, and how indescribably good does it feel to clean it off of you. 

You do something to him, something he doesn't understand. All he knows is that when you move, he moves; like a magnet to you. 

No doubt he would do anything for you. Kill, live, fight, lie down, he’d give you everything, every ounce of his being. If you asked him to cut himself in half with that scared voice of yours, he would. But you never do. 

Joel is not a holy man. He’s the farthest thing from pure, he knows it, there's no doubt in his mind that he’s going to hell. He struggled with you, feeling like soot to your cleanliness, like he could ruin you with a touch. But, you asked him to hold you, to soil you, to come to you, so he did. 

He had no defense against it. 

Joel is an animal. He wouldn’t say that you tethered or leashed or trapped him—you let him inside. For the first time in 20 years, he was in a home. You tamed him without trying. He obeyed without you asking. 

The long grass shifts whispers against your shins as you walk through it, eyes set on the weak wooden church. Small and simple, peeling white paint leaving it almost bare, steeple tall and topped with a thin cross. 

There’s no real reason to be here, just that you wanted to check it out. Always so curious, so adventurous. He could very well be annoyed by it, but he loves it about you, so he follows, hand on the gun on his hip as you walk. His eyes should be scanning the area, which he is trying his best to do, but he keeps coming back to his view from behind you. The swish of your dress, the way it flows in the breeze, revealing your thighs, is hypnotizing. 

Dresses are rare attire these days—impractical, really, but they’re your signature. That was one of the peculiar hooks that got him when you met. Femininity like that is uncommon these days, and shows some sort of openness, some kind of vulnerability. He’s not exactly sure why he loves it as much as he does, or why you insist on them, but we stopped asking about it pretty quick, because he adores it. 

The ancient wood steps up to the church creak loudly under your feet, tightening Joel’s hand on his gun. You pause in front of the doors, waiting, but it’s silent, granting a bit of relaxation in his shoulders. The door cracks just as loud, revealing an almost crude wooden interior of the church. It’s very small, with only a few rows of pews leading up to the raised sanctuary, the altar centered with a simple engraved cross. 

Joel stays in the doorway as you walk up the aisle, looking around. He’s stuck there, watching you. That pretty little dress, in his head, transforms into something white, your shoulders bare, trailed by a long, royal tail, a tiara veiled atop your head, petals at your feet. The church stays small and wooden. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you. It’s all he can see. 

Your voice breaks through his daydream, “This is a quaint little place.” You dance your fingers on the pews as you pass them, stepping right up to the podium. You grasp the sides, leaning forward to him with a wide grin. “I like it.”

“Mmm. Me too.” Actually, he doesn’t think much about the church at all, other than the fact that it might be a safe place to spend the night. Or the day, because you look damn good up there at the podium, smile all up on display for him. Something about being in here with you… fits, but not just because he wants to marry you, and this is the perfect place to daydream himself into oblivion about it in. 

You tilt your head, raising your brows, recognizing the half absent look on his face. “Is that really what you think about it?”

“Makes me think about… worship.” He decides to say, glancing at you. And that’s when he realizes it—it makes me think of you. This is where you belong, a place of worship, and me, here, on my knees for it. You’re no god, but you’re close enough for me. My divine. My unexplainable seraph, in the midst of this world that could very well be hell. 

“Oh, yeah?” You say, looking like you have no idea, no idea that he worships you. 

He nods his head to the chancel, “You look real good up there.”

“Do I?” You chuckle innocently.

“Yeah, you do.” 

He approaches slowly, and you watch him, smile fading into a curious look as he does . “You belong in somewhere like this.” Joel stands behind you, slinking his arms around to rest his hands on your stomach. 

“What do you mean?” You say quietly, and he feels the small breath leaving you. How he loves them, and to hold your body as they rise and fall and come out of you. Knowing you're alive. Knowing that this body is in his arms. 

“In a church.” He replies just as quiet, slowly closing his mouth and nose into your neck. All he does is breath, feeling the pulse from your jugular vein against his skin. He closes his eyes, so close that his eyelashes brush your skin, and there’s that breath. Almost stuttered, almost shallow. His affect on you. 

“Why’s that?” you nearly whisper. 

He breathes in. Because you’re holy. Because you’re pure, in a way. Purest you can be. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I feel it when I touch you. It’s on your tongue, and you don’t know that when I kiss you, I drink you. Your spit’s like holy water. You can’t make me pure. But you let me taste some of it. 

“Cause.” Is all he says. He doesn't know how to speak these words. Not yet. He tries, and sometimes it works, but he’s too caught up in the feeling of every part of his body pressed against you. “You just… fit.”

“Well that’s cryptic.” This would be a place for you to chuckle, but it seems you’re just as caught as he is. The idea alone is intoxicating. He knows this love isn’t one sided, but each time he remembers that you might love him just as much as he loves you, it’s intoxicating. He sucks in your scent. 

“You really… have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He presses his lips against your skin as he speaks, wrapping his arms tighter around you, holding you close to him. 

“What do you mean…?” You breathe out, so clueless… do you really not know? After all this time, you haven’t realized?

“Well…” Joel’s lips automatically go to start pressing kisses over your neck, magnetically called to your skin, “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

He’s not even sure what he means by that exactly, and already, his head is swimming. Joel closes his eyes, keeping himself pressed against you, and starts snaking his hands over your stomach, your waist, your chest, your sides, lips still pressing softly over your neck. It’s like he wants to touch every part of your body at once. He can’t get enough, can never, ever get enough. He wants to envelop you, show you that everything he is is for you. His body starts to move as it pleases, beginning to slowly grind against you. He’s stiff already, hips sliding right up on your ass. And as he does, you make a sound, a breathy moan, only a moment long, but it does what it always does, and his grip tightens, mouth becoming greedier, opening to taste you. His body loves you just as much as his mind, its own separate being, wanting you, needing you, seduced by the existence of your body on its own. 

“I love you,” he breathes out, moving his lips over the bare skin granted by the scooped neck of your dress as his grip slides down to your hips, beginning to roll into a push and pull of your body to his. Tongue against your shoulder, he moans, soaking up the dopamine that seeps out of your skin. You dance at the podium, bodies working together in a sultry waltz, and its proof alone that you were made for each other. 

He was made for you, he knows that, and though he didn’t know it, he’s been following that destiny all this time, and it’s all he’ll do for the rest of it. Because he has everything now. You, here in this church, he feeds on the holiness, licking it off you, pulling it against him. And hearing those perfect sounds coming out of you, he knows he’s making you feel good, almost as good as you deserve. He’ll be seeking out that limit for the rest of his life, trying to give you what you deserve. 

But he knows how good he fucks you already. You tell him. So he can’t help but fuck you again, right here in this church. Your grip on the sides of the podium as he unbuckles his jeans as he pulls your dress up and slips your panties down. He presses into you, and as he groans, you maon, and he feeds on it. Like a leech. Like the hungry dog he is. Like the victim of your elixir, he needs it, and it’s all over his fingers as he slips them down the front of your pussy, swirling his fingers around your clit. 

Slow. He likes to start slow. Soak it up. Let you get used to it. A taste at a time. He likes to bury himself deep first. Know that you're his. That he’s the one this deep inside of you now, that this seraph is taking his cock, and you like it, you love it, and you show him that you need it when you push yourself back onto him. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, every inch of him inside of you, and he can’t help but start to fuck a little faster. 

Joel lips are all over your neck, sliding his mouth around it, kisses and licks and just the lightest of bites. He doesn't want to hurt you, all he wants is for you to feel good, and then you tell him, “Feels so good,” in that small purr of yours, holding his hand on your breast, and he groans again. 

To touch you. To hold you. To kiss you. To fuck you. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he knows he has it, so he does. 

What a sight this would be, if anyone were to wander into this church. Some big, old man with his grimy hand reaching up under your dress to feel over your chest, fucking this perfect young woman from behind, up here on the chancel. The devil fucking an angel. But she likes it. She loves it. 

“Joel,” you moan out as he squeezes your breast, and with his face still pressed against your neck his breath over wet skin, he begins to speak. 

“I love you so much,” he says quietly, muffled against you, his eyes closed, just feeling you—that's when he can speak like this, though it’s always slurred, because he’s drunk on you. When he’s buried deep, smelling and tasting and feeling nothing other than you. When he gets wrapped up in you, that is when his voice is released. “You’re my angel, you’re my everythin’, an’ I was made for you, an’ all I want is you, all I want is to taste you, feel you, fuck you, make you feel good. I’d give you anythin’. Everythin’. Anythin’ you want. It’s yours. I’d burn the whole damn world if you asked me to. I fuckin’ belong to you, darlin.” And he feels it, almost like an ache in his chest, how profoundly he loves you. “Aw, baby,” he nearly whimpers, picking up his pace because he can’t help it, because he’s too damn hungry, and you feel too damn good. He keeps his hand over your pussy, swirling his fingers on your clit, slipping a finger down to feel himself coming in and out, and how wet you are for him. He adjust his stance, bending his knees slightly, fucking harder and faster. Moans bump out of you, his singing angel. 

“Joel, all I want is you, all I need is you,” you utter, voice high like it gets when he fucks you like this, hand going into his hair, running through it, holding him there. Against you. In you. He nearly growls. 

“Forever. I need you forever. In this life and the next. I don’t ever wanna lose you.”

“God, fuck me,”

“I didn’t believe in god,” The flood continues, almost unable to even hear himself over the rushing falls of his own feelings, emotional and physical. “I still don’t. But I believe in you. You’re the closest thing to it. You’re so perfect it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy, baby, y’know that? Holy fuckin’ pussy right here.” He drives himself deeper, and you moan louder. “My perfect baby, angel, you’re an angel. And you know, I belong out there in the pews.” Joel raises his hand away from between your legs to point out to them, but you take it right back to your pussy, pressing it back into your sweet wetness. He growls, clamping his teeth gently over your shoulder before pulling away to speak, though his lips stay stuck to your skin. “I love it when you do that, darlin’, when you show me how much you want it. All I wanna do is make you feel good. All I wanna do is for you. All I am is for you.”

Suddenly, you pull away, but only to face him, taking his face in your hands to kiss him. He hoists you into his arms automatically, dick focused on its own personal mission, placing your ass on the podium so that he can keep himself inside of you. 

“God, yes, fuck me,” you say into his lips, so he does, harder, and he can feel himself bottoming out, and you cry out sounds of pleasure into his lips. But he can’t stop talking. 

“You’re a gift from fuckin’ somewhere, I swear. I don’t care. I used to get so riled up about it. Who the fuck is this chic,” you chuckle into his lips as he speaks, messy, needy lips and tongues and teeth that he has to talk around, “and why’s she doin’ this to me? What the fuck am I doin’? And why am I lettin’ ‘er? Fuck if I know—but I have her,” he pauses to kiss you deeper, the weight of his own words, of the reality of all of this, scrunching his face up. Because he has you. In this world, on that road out here, and here in this church, so open for him, taking him so well, like you always do. 

“I love you,” you say, loud and lilted by pleasure, and he groans and moans and growls and whimpers back into your lips. 

“I love you more than anythin’. More than life it’s fuckin’ self, I swear. I swear, more than anythin’. You’re it for me, darlin, you’re it for me. Anythin’ you want.”

“I just want you.”

“An’ here I am, darlin’,” he replies, then grabs your ass in both hands, a better grip for him to pump himself into you, just how you like it, because he’s memorized what you like and how to do it so he can make you feel good, make you cum every single time he fucks you. “I’m not leavin’. I’m not leavin’.” He continues on, some words hitched or interrupted by a groan or moan or whimper, the sound of skin slapping skin and your own moans a chorus to it. “I’ll never leave you. Never. You make me feel human. You make me feel right. You make me feel… almost… holy. Like I’m close to it. To bein’ right. True. I’ll never be righteous. I’ll never be pure. But I can be somethin’ for you. I can do somethin’ good for you. I’ll keep you safe. Forever. I’ll keep you safe, baby, I’ll keep you safe. My sweet girl. My darlin’. My lovely girl. I love you.” 

You seem at a loss for words, very much unlike him at the moment, but he knows that’s a good sign. It means you’re close to cumming. 

“My dove. My love. Cum for me, angel, cum for me.” He slips his hand back between your legs, beckoning your climax, and your moans stutter and your thighs clamp around his waist and there’s that heavenly squeeze around his dick and you’re cumming but he can’t keep his mouth shut, “That’s my girl. That’s my angel. So good to me. So good to me. It’s fuckin’ unreal, darlin’, how good you are to me. What did I do to deserve this?” He asks in between kisses, sloppy and wet and loud on your quivering lips, still seeping moans as you finish on him, “What did I do to deserve this?” He can’t stop his hips from jutting into you, holding your hips tight, so he begs, “can I keep goin’ sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe back out, gripping his thick forearms, holding onto him as he fucks faster, needily. 

“God you feel so good,” he says back into your lips, starting to pour out moans. Your fingers slide around his face, cupping it, pulling him away only enough to lock your gaze. Then, he’s gone. Nothing else exists, not even the church. Just your eyes, that almost sleepy look you get after cumming hard like that, and the feeling of rutting into you, wetness starting to drip down his thighs. 

Despite how difficult it’s becoming to get words out, and how interupted they are by the other sounds he’s making, he’s always the most talkative at this stage. It’s when he finally lets himself go, unleashing himself in more ways than one. Being this close to you, this level of intimacy, it all comes out. 

“I don’t know how I got you. I don’t understand it, darlin’. You do somethin’ to me. You did somethin’ to me. You changed me, darlin’. I know I, I’m still rough around the edges, and I bet you can’t even tell, but, you did somethin’ to me. Somethin’ I don’t understand. But I feel it. I felt it when I saw you for the first time. I felt it shift. I felt everythin’ shift. You scared the shit outta me, darlin’. You still do. Cause I love you so goddamn much. I love you hard, darlin’. I think that’s the only way I can love. Hard. Like a fist. Like a bullet. But I—I’m sweet with you, aren’t I? I’m not too rough on you, am I? You like it when I fuck you like this, darlin?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod, face screwed up again and interrupting him with moans. 

“Yes,” he nods back, “I make you feel good, my angel?”

“Yes, yes, you make me feel so good,” your breath hitches, cut off by a moan.

“You deserve it, baby. That’s all you deserve. Everything’ that’s good is made for you. I don’t understand how you fit down here on this Earth. But you do. You’re an angel, an angel of death, sharp and smart and quick and perfect in every goddamn way.” Joel slows, turning his head to press his lips to your hand on his face, kissing your fingertips, your palm, breath still sharp and hot. He closes his eyes, your long moans filling his ears. “You’re so perfect, darlin’. You’re so perfect. And you feel so fuckin’ good.” He moans loud, then leans into you, laying your back over the podium, hands on your thighs to keep them around him, and he fucks harder, jolting his hips faster, face back down on your skin. He fits his throat against yours with his lips to your ear, and he can feel your blood moving and the vibration of your voice as you moan, louder, and god, oh, god, all he wants is this, you, and he wants to make you cum again. 

Every part of him is pressed into you, save for his knees against the podium. “I’m nothing’ without you, darlin’.” He buries himself deep, feeling himself fill you up, and the sweet friction of his cock sliding with your cum, wet and ready and perfect. “I’m a sinner, darlin… I’m a sinner… all up on you, this fuckin’ angel, god, fuck.” He groans, then plants his mouth on your neck, wet from it already. “I’m goin’ to hell anyways,” he continues, finding himself unable to shut the fuck up, “but I’ll take this heaven here. I’ll take it for as long as you’ll give it to me.” He groans, throat becoming tight, feeling himself coming close, his whole body warm and needy and full and ready to release, “can I have a little bit more, darlin’?”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop Joel,”

“D’y’ think y’ can cum again for me, darlin?”

“Ahuh,”

“God, you’re so good to me, ” his hand slides back between you, laying his palm down over your stomach with his thumb circling your clit. With his hand there, he can feel it, your pussy starting to squeeze, and when it registers around him, he stops breathing for a moment, and cums, maybe harder than he ever has. His hips stutter, pumping you full of his cum, your pussy squeezing it deeper with every stroke. You grasp his hair, pulling bundles of it, the sweet pain only making it that much more euphoric for him.

“Heaven,” comes out in a breath as he presses himself as deep as he can into you, bodies united and still pulsing, your legs keeping him clamped there, thighs shaking in spurts. 

“I love you,” he concludes. 

“I love you, I love you,” you whisper. You save your words for other times, for the late nights as your fingers dance over his skin, wrapped together in the cold or the heat—it doesn’t matter, neither of your bodies seem to be able to keep apart when they have the opportunity. You lull him to sleep with effortless poetry, anything that comes out of your lips. Every word, every sentence, perfect, because it’s your voice, it comes from you. 

Joel sighs deeply, laying over you, breaths deep and ragged with your own just the same under his weight. 

After a moment of catching your breath, he pushes himself up to admire the view. Your lips are open and wet, plump from his own, eyes half lidded, neck marked, breasts pushing out of the top of your dress. An angel. Slowly, he leans in for a sweet, slow, kiss. 

“You’re perfect.” 

When he pulls away, you’re smiling, eyes closed. You hum and then open them, and it's everything. And then your hands are on his cheeks again, warm like sunlight, and everything is perfect. 

“I love it when you get all lovey dovey on me, Joel. I love it when you talk. I love the things you say. You make me feel so special.”

“You are special.”

You smile, then lean in for another soft, simple kiss. 

“You’re special too, Joel. You’re so special to me. I love you.” You whisper, and in this abandoned church, in the middle of who knows where, he’s home, in your voice, your lips, your skin; in you.

[lenaboskow]

Hi, 🫣🤭 anon here! Thank you for answering, I really appreciate you taking the time to do so and I don't mind waiting.

Continuing the thread from my last ask, I saw some takes about how that scene with gerrard is actually tommy's "redemption" as in they are showing us that he was also bullied by their captain which is why he acted the way he did in the past and why he frezees and says nothing and honestly I did not think to hard about this scene I was mostly just annoyed about how tommy had no reaction but I can get behind it if he froze because of an instinctual reaction to protect himself - it would have worked better if chim wasn't in the scene cuz it kind of made it look like they want us to belive tommy endured the same treatment as chim and hen and that was definitely not the case...

I am a firm beliver that people can be idiots, cowards and can make tons of mistakes, but can also change so tommy's past actions are not the reason why I can't root for the character, it's the way he acts in the prezent that bothers me and establishing that he also endured his share of bulling should help his character but for me it did the complete opposite, I know that might not make sense but i'll explain

So we have this guy that we know was repressed and who probably had to hide who he was for most of his life and now we also know he was bullied and who in the present is presented to us as someone who grew as a person and became better version of himself and who seems to be happy and free

So then, why does he act like a complete jackass on his first date with buck? If he is the kind of person who freezes and can't say a word in front of his bully, if he struggled his entire life with who he is, shouln't he understand buck's reaction when eddie came? I know there are people who say his closet joke is not that deep, that he was hurt by the way buck acted and that he left because he saw buck is not ready, but in light of this he was bullied too I can't understand how can anyone defend his actions on his date with buck, if you are a person that had horrible past experiences (and I don't mean just regarding sexuality) why would you have that kind of attitude? Why not chose to be kind and extend to buck the treatment you would have liked to receive? Like tommy knew how new everything was for buck, he was aware and if he didn't want to deal with what that meant for buck he shloudn't have gone with him on a date

I'am rambling, sorry, but this new info about tommy gave certain people more reasons to defend him and there are certain situations (like the date) in which he does not deserve it🫣🤭

i got this before the finale but wanted to wait and see if tommy was in it before answering. you pretty much hit the nail on the head, but i wanted to add how he acted on the date in the finale. dismissing buck calling bobby his dad, and then dismissing buck trying to find common ground (strained relationship with biological father) doesn't give me hope for a possible character redemption. i think it's more likely tommy's actions during his time at the 118 under gerrard are brought up, and if it is i can't wait to see it

[gracieheartspedro]

I Will Leave Your Words

description: what does grief look like? truly? how would it feel to watch the man you love get completely taken from you, just completely out of the blue?

word count: 1.1k

warnings: ANGST. that’s it. mentions of death, blood, and murder. talking in detail about grief. this is literally a drabble as to what joel’s lover would feel like if she had been there after he was murdered. that’s it.

authors note: hi lovers. I posted about this already but I watched this tik tok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8224mye/

and I instantly felt the need to write what I would feel if I was joel’s lover and witnessing his death. I enjoy writing angst for some reason. I think this is some of my best writing. please let me know if you want more stuff like this. thanks!

and because you two asked for it. dedicated to @jenispunk and @ilovepedro <3

You don’t remember what you saw that afternoon, you only remember the taste of the air. Metallic.

You were cornered, your body weak and full of grief. You couldn’t find the words. You leave once they wrap up the body and begin planning how to take it home.

The body.

That same body that was wrapped around you in the early morning hours. It was just a body now.

You knew your presence was needed, but you didn’t have answers for anyone. You didn’t have any input on what should happen next. What happened fucking happened before you had a say in the matter. When Jesse is asking who you’re riding back with, you just tell him you’ll walk.

“It’s a 5 mile hike,” He mutters, trying to reason with you. But there was no reasoning. You had just lost your other half and you were trying to figure out how that was even possible.

Sure, you had lost everyone in your life, but he wasn’t supposed to die. He was supposed to outlive everyone, his luck never running out. But on some random winter day, the tragedy of him came to a close. And you didn’t understand how that could happen. How could he just be gone?

You needed to be alone. You didn’t want to watch them haul his limp body back to Jackson. You didn’t want to face Tommy or Ellie. You didn’t want to face the truth.

As soon as you start your way down to the entrance of the lodge, you hear Dina trying to get Ellie to come with her. But she’s a lot like you. There’s no reasoning with someone who experienced what she experienced. They made her watch.

Your hands were already numb from the cold. You start treading up a steep hill, away from the ski lodge. You prayed you’d run into the crew who brutally took him from you. It’s rageful and complete rejection of the truth, this feeling you have in the pit of your stomach. You know it’s going to fester, blossoming all over your skin.

The crunch of the snow is repetitive. You’re walking in a steady rhythm.

You start to picture his face, it’s hazy and contorted in that grimace he used to make at you sometimes. He was perfect in your mind. His speckled and slowly wrinkling face. His gray hair, peppered through out the darker chocolate brown locks. His large and warm hands, that would cup your chin when you kissed him as he walked through the threshold of your home. His booming laugh you only heard once and awhile. He was all encompassing, his radiance filled your entire being with love and security.

It would be your 4 year anniversary next month.

And he was not going to be there for it.

You’d have to sit at his grave, planting yourself there like a tree. Maybe if you grew roots, you could be closer to him.

You hear movement behind you, spotting a lonely Tommy on horseback. He was beaten pretty bad, but it seems that now that he’s conscious, he’s able to ride by himself. He calls after you, but your ears are practically ringing. You freeze anyway, waiting for him to approach. He hops down from the large creature, reaching out to touch your wet and frozen body.

“We can’t have you dyin’ out here, darlin’,” He mutters, his voice cracking, “Listen, I kn-”

“Just… let’s go home.”

You two mount the horse, you wrapping your cold arms around his frigid middle. You place your head on his back, letting your tears trickle down your face. They practically turn to crystals when they reach your chin.

The ride is painfully long and quiet. You and Tommy don’t see anyone else on your trek, finally spotting Jackson’s gate in the distance. People are waiting, the doors wide open and letting in a crew of people.

When the horse halts in the middle of the crowd, you hop down. You stumble a bit, trying to remember what the ground feels like. Everyone was watching you, too wary to say anything or do anything. You knew you probably looked a mess, your cheeks frosted and red.

“Hey,” You hear her small voice behind you. It’s Ellie, she’s has this glazed over look. She can’t say anything else and you can’t return with any words either. Instead, you just grab her shaking hands and start to walk home. Past everyone’s glances and gasps. She squeezes your hand sporadically, expecting nothing but a returning squeeze.

You get to the front of the house, staring up the concrete stairs. You wanted to scream. What the hell were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to go in there and resume your life?

“Want to come to my place?”

You look at her, waiting for her to dissipate from your sight, too. Not that you wanted her to, you wanted to keep her around forever. But you were waiting for another rug to be pulled out from under you.

Her nose is still crusted with blood, her lip split open. She was completely wasting away right before your eyes.

“Yeah,” You finally say, your throat dry from not speaking for so long, “Need to clean you up.”

You two spend the rest of the night together. She was in shock, the full realization not hitting her until you crack again and start sobbing. You hold each other, rocking back and forth. Ellie was the only person who got it. She knew what you meant to him. She knew what he meant to you. And God, even between the differences they had going on between them, Ellie felt the loss in her bones. They ached with sorrow.

She finally falls asleep in your arms, but you can’t shut your eyes. You will just see his limp body, contorted and broken. The blood trickling all over the floor, it splattered across the walls.

He was fucking gone.

You’d never feel those arms wrap around you again. You’d never get to see that smile again. You’d never feel him between your hips, appreciating every piece you were willing to give to him. You’d never smell his woodsy scent, especially after he was twiddling wood all day. You’d never hear him strum his guitar on the front porch again, replaying the same tune you heard a million times over.

All of your senses would live in agony, never able to recover from losing him.

You would spend eternity missing him. His memories were now just a book on the shelf that was forbidden to be open. You wouldn’t get to pick his brain anymore. The only thing left of him earth side is you and everyone else’s memories. He would hold a spot on the mantle, in all the pictures you took.

And of course, in the imaginary file cabinet in your head. You’d organize every possible moment you could remember spending with him. How he made you feel. How you hoped you made him feel. It would be labeled, The Only Reason I Decided To Stick Around.

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 3 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Thank you guys again for all your responses!! Here's Part 3 so I hope you enjoy! This one's a bit shorter so sorry about that! But short and sweet...hopefully!

Warnings: Little bit of Fluff

Part 3

It was Friday and after Friday came the blessing of the weekend. That meant plans were being made for tonight. In a place like Small Heath there was only really one place for said plans to happen, The Garrison. (y/n) rarely went out. By the end of the work day, she was always so dead tired. In addition, her colleagues were never encouraging her to join them. However, this Friday Evelyn had done a complete 180. She had been pestering her to go out all day.

“(y/n), come on! It’ll be fun! It’s the Garrison on a Friday night, it’ll be amazing!”

If there was one word to describe the pub (y/n) wouldn’t use the word amazing. From what she could remember it was a dirty, gloomy place. Always full of men that couldn’t control their hands.

“(y/n), please. I need your help. I need you to re-introduce me to Thomas. I’m begging you. Begging.”

And there it was, the real reason. (y/n) didn’t have the heart to tell her that Thomas didn’t seem interested but then again (y/n) wasn’t sure if that was true. She had heard the rumors about his wild ways, the one-night stands, the exotic clubs in London. Thomas didn’t seem scared of stringing along a woman just to dip his fingers in the honey occasionally.  

In the end it was Mr. Beavers who pushed her over the edge, “Yes, I fully support this. (y/n) you’ve been working far too hard these past few weeks. I want you to go out, have a drink, have fun, and let your hair down. It’s an order.”

With that, (y/n) dropped her head in defeat.

“Meet you there at seven.” Came Evelyn’s gloating voice.

To say it was crowded would be an understatement. It was packed. The two women pushed open the thick doors and was greeted with a wave of heavy, hot air.

“Come on, let’s get some drinks first. The rest of the group will be near the back.” Evelyn had to raise her voice to be heard over the rowdy pub.

They pushed their way forwards and came upon the bartender.

“Two old fashions please.” Evelyn ordered for the both of them but (y/n) didn’t mind. She was busy surveying the crowd. It contained both the old and the young but the one thing they shared was their level of intoxication. She kept on scanning until her heart jumped straight from her chest into her throat.

It was those eyes. Ice. Ocean. River. And Sky. At the very back of the pub he was sitting at a table with a few other men. He was staring straight at her. Unmoving except to raise a glass to his lips. (y/n) felt like prey. One of those poor antelopes she read about in the library. Weak creatures who grazed quietly on the plains until they heard a noise, a twig snapping, and then they were running and running. And if they glanced behind, they would see the paralyzing image of a lion, crazed eyes, wide open jaw, the teeth glistening.

(y/n) went against her instincts and turned her back. She picked up her drink and took gulp. She was never going to make it out of this alive. Evelyn guided her through the masses until they reached the corner where (y/n) recognized a group of colleagues. Evelyn made sure to sit right next to her, “As soon as I spot him, I’ll nudge you and we’re going to re-do the introductions, understand?”

(y/n) only nodded. She didn’t really care. She could already feel a headache brewing but she made conversation with Mark from the business section all the same. After an hour (y/n) couldn’t take the humid air anymore she detached herself from Evelyn who was already tipsy and didn’t seem to notice before carefully weaving through the crowd and out the door. She walked up the street a bit and leaned against the opening of the back alley of The Garrison.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm against the evening’s brisk air. Winter was around the corner, and she could tell it was going to be a brutal one. Suddenly there was a noise, a metal clang in the depths of the alley. Her head spun around to look into the darkness. (y/n) wasn’t stupid she knew what kind of people hung about at this time of night, but she also wasn’t very keen on going back into the sweat box of the pub. She pushed off the wall to get a better look down the alley; she was hoping to catch sight of a rat or racoon. As she squinted her eyes, she just began to make out the looming figure of a man. Her heart started to thrum in her ears and before she could get another clear look, she quickly took a step back only to collide with something.

(y/n) gasped and twirled around putting her hands up to push away whatever it was. But it was Thomas and before she could hit him, he clasped both of her arms and dragged her towards him, out of the darkness and into the soft lights of the Garrison’s windows. She watched him stare over her head into the open mouth of the alley, daring something or someone to show its face but when she glanced around there was nothing.  

“Not smart for a woman to be out ‘ere alone.”

“I needed some air.”

Thomas stared down at her. She didn’t even realize he was moving before a hand came up off her arm to carefully brush asway some loose hair from her forehead. He hummed quietly in acknowledgment. The way his eyes raked over her face should have been illegal. They scoured the entire plain of her face before briefly fixating on her lips.

“Just like at the platform, eh?” He squeezed her arms as emphasis.

“That was a long time ago, Mr. Shelby.” (y/n) whispered.

“Only a few years.” Accompanied by a small step forward so their chests were almost brushing.

(y/n) swallowed at the proximity. She could count his freckles. She could see the pale skin and dark, long, beautiful eyelashes. The softness he held in his eyes. It all felt so terribly familiar.

Too close. She frantically whispered to herself. Too close.

“Call me Tommy.” He caressed her arms, up and down, “Just once.”

She looked up at him, “Mr. Shelby…”

He shut his eyes and shook his head. His dark hair falling over his forehead, “Please.”

The Garrison doors burst open with a bang and the two of them jumped apart. A gaggle of very drunk looking young men stumbled out onto the street. (y/n) watched them trip over themselves as the clumsily passed them by. They called out and hooted all the way down the dark road.

Whatever moment the two of them had was gone, broken, “I should be getting back, Mr. Shelby.” She couldn’t bring herself to actually look at him. She was ashamed to say she would rather take the sweaty, roaring interior of The Garrison over being alone with Thomas.

And when next week’s Thursday came around it was all forgotten. Thomas acted no different and (y/n) moved on.

But in the night, when she was weak and tired, she would replay the moment over and over. The sight of those lips, full and soft. The delusional feeling of them brushing her own. Feather light but carrying with them the heat of desire. Then down her neck, they would turn hotter, hungrier. They would open and suck and bite and mark and…Stupid girl. She’d say. Stupid girl.

Part 2 --- Part 4

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Never Stopped Loving You - Part 2

I Never Stopped Loving You - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC “Catie”

Word Count: 2500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I just had to write this part 2! It's all fluff and a little heart hurt. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

<<I Never Stopped Loving You - Part 1

"I just found her. I don't want to lose her so soon." Joel’s eyes are round and worried, tears that he refuses to let fall are building up at the corners.

Benny, Poppy’s long time boyfriend, had finally come to us 4 months after Joel and Ellie moved into Jackson to ask our permission to marry her. It’s not tradition anymore, but Poppy had read it in a book and mentioned how romantic it sounded, so naturally, Benny had to do it. He’d asked Tommy too, as he had been like a father to Poppy since we moved here 10 years ago. I had said yes right away, but Joel clenched his jaw shut, a gruff “No” falling from his downturned lips. I smiled at Benny, telling him to give us some time and sending him out the door.

"She's 20, Joel."

"That's young"

"It is, but not for this world. Lives are cut short every day, so when 2 people love each other, they get married."

His broad shoulders slump, slightly defeated. "... I just got here."

"She's not going anywhere, Joel. Just a few houses down."

His jaw clenches, thoughts racing behind his brown eyes.

"What about this Benny guy?"

"He's a sweet kid. Too much energy to know what to do with, but he loves our daughter more than himself. You know he technically already asked her to marry him."

Joel’s eyes snap to mine. "He what? After making that big of a fuss of asking us-"

"When we first moved here. Poppy was 10, nearly 11 and she had never been around other kids, let alone attend actual school and have neighbors or other people around. Her whole life had been Lucia and I. Benny introduced himself the first day and they became fast friends. I think it was that first week he asked her to marry him."

"What did she say?"

"She laughed and said 'I'm 10. What do I wanna get married for?'"

"Good for her." 

"I think there was a bit about "stinky boys" too. But that didn't deter him. They were inseparable. And a few years later, they started dating. I wasn't surprised but she was. And they've been together ever since."

"She loves him?"

"So much. As much as I love you."

HIs face softens, but the scowl remains, one tear betraying him by slowly falling down his cheek. I sit next to him on the couch, placing my hand on his thigh. I don’t say anything, waiting for him to speak.

“I only just found out I had another…I have a daughter. I can’t lose her too.”

I place my hand on his cheek, gently turning his face to mine. I swipe my thumb across his cheek to wipe away a tear, stubble softly scraping my skin as his watery eyes find mine.

“You will never lose her, Joel. She never thought in a million years she would ever meet you. I never-” a lump rises in my throat and I swallow hard “-she has been up your ass these last 4 months for a reason. She loves you, Joel. She’s not going to leave you. Just move a few doors down.”

—----

“I don’t understand why, Uncle Tommy! He knows I love Benny and he loves me.”

Tommy tosses some hay into the stall in front of him before turning to face his niece. 

“He’ll come around, don’t worry Pop.”

“I don’t know…he seemed pretty set on saying no. Ugh, and we had this whole thing planned out. I never planned for dad saying no.”

Tommy moves to the next horse stall, repeating the action. “Joel would want to know Benny and he doesn’t. He only just got here-”

“He’s been here for 4 months, Uncle Tommy.”

“Yeah, but he’s spent most of the time with you and your mom. As he should.”

Poppy studies her uncle’s form. “He could’ve just said yes. I mean, Benny and I have been together for forever, but I guess dad is bent on not supporting me.”

Tommy drops the last bit of hay in the stall, hand hesitating over the next bit of hay he’ll have to put down. 

“He only just got you, Pop.”

Poppy blows a raspberry. “I’m not going anywhere. Just a few houses down.”

A look washes over Tommy’s face and Poppy sees him fighting back tears.

“It’s different for him. He gets another chance with you.” It’s quiet when Tommy speaks, but he may as well have been yelling. Poppy’s eyes grow wide and she sits there silent for a few moments.

“Sarah.”

Tommy nods, his eyes coming present from the flashback that he had been on. “Sarah.”

Poppy lets out a puff of air. “Guess I’m the stubborn ass, huh?”

Tommy smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. “You come by it honestly.”

—----

The front door opens, Poppy walking in the kitchen shortly after. 

“Hey mom.”

“Hey Pop.”

“Is dad home?”

“He is. He’s upstairs. Everything ok?”

Poppy nods. “Yeah.”

Poppy heads upstairs, pausing at the door to her parent’s room before she knocks.

“Dinner ready?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, Pop. Uh, come on in.”

Poppy enters the room and sees Joel standing in front of the mirror, hair slicked back from the water from his shower. Joel opens his mouth to speak but before he can, Poppy crosses the room and throws her arms around him, squeezing a little. Joel hesitates, momentarily caught off guard by the abrupt display of affection, before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back.

“I’m not leaving, dad.”

Joel’s grip stiffens slightly before pulling back. “What?”

Poppy looks up at him, love pouring out of her gaze. “Benny has a house for us just a few doors down. I’m not leaving. I only just got you."

Joel is quiet for several moments. “You had Uncle Tommy.”

“I did. But he’s not my dad. You are.”

Joel chokes back tears as he stares into his daughter’s eyes, sad for the years he missed watching her grow. 

“Do you love him?”

Poppy smiles. “I do.”

“And does he love you?”

She smiles wider. “He does. He really does, daddy.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, his eyes looking off for a few moments before looking at his daughter.

“Alright, then.”

Poppy’s entire face lights up. “Really? Oh, dad I-”

“Just remind him I’m a really good shot. And so is Uncle Tommy.”

“Psshh, have you seen mom shoot? Benny should be worried about her. Why do you think he sucks up to her?”

Joel chuckles. “As he should.”

—----

Weddings in Jackson are a big event, everyone in town chipping in to help with everything, from decorating to cooking, to making Poppy’s dress. It’s something everyone looks forward to.

Joel stands in the living room, waiting for his daughter to come down the stairs. His hands flex at his sides and he shifts his weight nervously. He glances up at the top of the stairs and his breath catches in his throat, tears immediately welling in the corners of his eyes. She's the spitting image of her mother.

Poppy has on a beautiful white dress, hand-sewn by the seamstress in town. It's floor length, a white pattern of poppies is embroidered into the dress. Her hair is twisted and braided up, whisps framing her face. She wobbles slightly at the top of the stairs, the heels her friend had someone found clicking on each wooden step as she descends. When she reaches the bottom, she turns to Joel, a smile wife on her face. 

"Well, dad? Do I look ok?"

"You-" Joel let's out a breath, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth "-you're absolutely beautiful." 

Tears well in her eyes now. "Thanks, dad."

Joel offers her his arm and it's then he notices the butterfly clip in her hair, which isn't really her style. 

"Butterfly?" He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

"Oh. Yeah. For Sarah. I wanted a piece of her with me today and mom said she really liked butterflies. This was all I could find. Oh, and Uncle Tommy gave me this."

She pulls out a small photograph, handing it to Joel. He looks down at it and his jaw slams shut, willing his tears to not fall. 

Staring up at him, was Sarah, clad in her soccer uniform, a trophy in her hand and Joel standing proudly behind her. He stares at it for several moments before Poppy reaches out, gently taking the photo and sliding it into his coat pocket. 

"Now she's definitely with us."

Joel pulls Poppy in, hugging her tightly, trying to hide the tears that had fallen from his eyes. 

"It's perfect. She would've loved that."

Poppy hugs her dad back, hiding her own tears. They embrace for a few moments before hearing the music start outside that was their cue to head out the door. Joel pulls back, trying to covertly wipe the tears off his face while his daughter does the same. He offers her his arm again and Poppy takes it, lacing her arm in his. 

"Don't let me fall, dad."

"Never. I got you, baby girl."

Joel had faced clickers and much worse. But giving his daughter away that he'd only just met was one of the hardest things he'd had to do. Even Joel had to admit that Benny was perfect for her and loved her fiercely. They were a perfect match. 

When he danced with Poppy during the father daughter dance, he could almost picture Sarah, spinning around and laughing as he danced with her too. He knew that she would have loved Poppy.

—---

A couple months after the wedding, Poppy and Benny came over for dinner. We usually had dinner together once a week, Ellie sliding right into our family. She's hilarious and spunky and the thought of Joel having to escort her across the country makes me laugh. 

After dinner, Ellie takes off with Dina and the rest of us settle on the couches. Joel offers everyone a drink, even Benny, whom he'd grown fond of over the last few months. Although he'd never admit it. 

Poppy takes the glass and holds it, swirling around the contents as she stares at it. 

"Actually, Dad…mom… I, well, we want to talk to you." 

"I told you, my knees aren't what they used to be. Tommy said he'd help with the roof-"

"No. That's…that's not it." Joel sits next to her and the couch and she turns to face him, mouth opening and closing as if she's trying to figure out how to say something. She takes Joel's hand and squeezes it, looking up at him with her eyes that she inherited from him.

"Dad…I'm pregnant."

"Oh sweetie!" I'm on my feet, crossing the room and throwing my arms around her. "I'm so excited for you! How are you feeling? Is the morning sickness OK? I can't remember how it was with you because of what was happening but I do remember vomiting a lot. Have you gone to Lucia yet? Oh and-"

"Mom, chill. I'm only 6 or 7 weeks along." The smile she gave me falters when she looks back at Joel, who hadn't moved, a hard look on his face. 

"Dad? Did you hear what I said?"

Benny shifts in his seat, looking anywhere but at Joel, ready to run if he made a move. 

"Dad?" Poppy sits back down, taking his hands again. "You're going to be a grandpa." 

That broke him. 

"A…grandpa?"

Poppy smiles softly. "Yeah. I mean we won't know if it's a boy or girl until it's born, but if it's a boy, we're naming it Will after Benny's brother. He died a few years after…everything. And if it's a girl…well, we wondered if it would be ok to name her Sarah."

Joel's eyes are wide, big and brown and they stare into his daughter's. 

"You'd want to name her Sarah?"

"Yeah. Only if that's ok-"

"I would love that. She would've loved that." He blinks rapidly, ridding his eyes of the tears that had gathered. 

"A grandpa. Me. I never thought I'd…" He lets out a laugh, hugging his daughter tightly and shaking Benny's nervous hand.

—----

Several months later, Joel is by his daughter's side at her request, her small hand in his as she squeezes it through another contraction.

"Ok, one more push, Pop, and this baby will be here." Lucia gets ready and nods at Joel and Benny. 

"One more push, sweetheart, and we can finally hold our baby." Benny rubs her back up and down, applying pressure to her hips to help alleviate the pain, just as the midwife had shown him. 

"I can't! It's too hard!" 

Joel leans in, getting level with her face as she rocks back and forth slightly, on all fours.

"I won't pretend this isn't hard as shit. But if it's one thing I do know is that you're as tough as your momma. Probably tougher. And I know you can do this. You got this, baby girl. You've got this." Joel squeezes her hand and she nods, taking a deep breath. 

One more push, and their daughter Sarah was born, screaming loudly at the world. 

—-

We stayed with them that first night, in case they needed anything at their request. It's late, about 3am or so and I hear the floorboards creaking outside our door. I glance over and see that Joel isn't next to me, so I quietly get up and make my way out of the door. Peeking into Poppy and Benny's room, I see them both sound asleep on the bed, but no Sarah. I head downstairs to the living room, but stop just short of the doorway, listening as Joel's voice carries to me, the song he had been singing ending.

"You know, I wanted to be a singer in another life. Play guitar and all that. I'll teach you someday."

He hums a little tune to Sarah and I poke my head around the corner, taking in the scene in front of me. Joel is standing, bouncing his arms and swaying side to side, all gentle movements as he stares down and the bundle of blankets in his arms, Sarah's small face poking out from between the folds. 

"Your aunt would've just melted over you. She loved babies. Was always askin' me when me and your grandma were gonna have one. I'll tell you all about her one day." He pauses, clenching his jaw in an attempt to hold back tears. 

"I never knew about your mom until she was already grown. But I promise, I will always be here for you." 

Sarah looks so small in his arms, his broad shoulders looking impossibly large as he holds her tiny body to him, smiling down at her as she continues to sleep. 

"I got you, baby girl."

—----

A Second Chance (a one shot written by @theewokingdead )>>

General Taglist:

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[t4tpumpkinduo]

🩹 fpr the dsmp lore asks

🩹 - should c!niki and c!wilbur beat the shit out of each other?

-

tbh no👍 i don't think that would be productive, OR relevant to their issues, or even in line w their dynamic. but i DO think they need catharsis like they need air, and if that means a shove or two in the rain SO BE IT.

first off, i think niki is pretty justified to feel abandoned by him. you can absolutely understand cwilb's self destruction and eventual suicide, you can get that he was in an incredibly difficult position in pogtopia due to his mental illnesses, that he truly hated himself, that he thought he deserved it. yes, he hurt people, Badly, but he himself was deeply hurt too. cwilbs main target Was ultimately himself.

but the point is that in situations like this, where you lose smone in so many ways, both before and after death. it's complicated! it's messy and scary and isolating, so of course niki is allowed to feel the pain of that as well. she loved him, she trusted him. she was called L'manberg First Lady fucking Hello. when ctommy would bring up cniki, cwilb would say don't you dare use her against me. the reason she stayed in manburg for so long, a place she despised, despite having so many opportunities to leave was BCS cwilbur specifically told her to stay!! that he'd come back for her!! and jesus christ nikis bday party still makes me 6'2 my stomach, the way he was ignoring her as she pleaded over and over for him to treat her like a person i'm sick. she burned the tree then fucking looted his rotting corpse and kept his jacket on fucking helloHELLO....OF COURSE SHE'S CRAZY.

and tbh i think cwilbur is allowed to be a little snippy too! not to the same level as cniki, for sure, but idk. what abt the time she directed all of the anger she had towards him at ctommy 😭 and wanted to kill him abt it. again, it's well written, it makes complete sense how smone spiraling and grieving and in that much pain will pick the easiest target but. good lird what a target. her and jack did super want to rip him apart. i think cwilb should've been a key piece of the aftermath of this arc, he shouldve been made aware of it. it feels like such a WASTE it never happened! it plays into so much! his care for tommy, that someone you love can make terrible mistakes from being in pain (which he should be well acquainted with 👍), as well as the damage he left behind with her. not to even mention the cycles of it all.

so yeas, their actual reconciliation in canon was lacking and lame as fuck and corny as he'll IMO. i need these ppl to sob and scream and lash out and snarl at eachother wee beastie style. but beating eachothers asses is too far because they Do 👍 care abt eachother deeply. and thags what matters that's what it's actually about. at the end of the day

[brick-a-doodle-do]

AGHHHH IT'S HERE!!! I AM SCHEDULING THIS FOR LATER BC I FINISHED IT EARLY BUT AHH @beckyu I HAVE FINISHED THE FIC >:]

also HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO SHROUD YOU SAVIOUR !!!

ps becky i completely forgot about my plan for chapter two until i was one scene away from finishing...so let's just say this can be an au and it will happen at one point 😭🙏 for now tho this is just a rewrite of chapter one but with a LOT more content :]

(read the og fic here ! ao3 link to this fic !)

shroud, you...savior?

words: 4590 (LENGTHH!)

cw: panic, description of a panic attack (-ish? idrk how to write panic attacks), spiders, swearing

—–—

Trust. It was a vulnerable thing to play around with, he knew that. Yet still, Wilbur continued to show up behind the “Ranboo” plushie on Tommy’s bookshelf. Day after day. 

It had been almost a month since he and Tommy had met, and already his mind had already sworn the kid to be trustworthy. But logically, he knew that the risk factor of revealing himself went up and far beyond the skyline he’d grown to know as Tommy’s ceiling.

True as that may be, though, a part of Wilbur still liked thinking of Tommy as a gentle human, rare as they may be…and never as young as Tommy. He had all the doubts in the world that this human wouldn’t be just like the stories. It only made sense. 

He wonders how much Tommy really cared about his situation, because he knew that so much of his life’s curtain had been lifted, but for some reason the human only sympathised with him. It frustrated him to not understand such a massive thing.

Wilbur knew it wasn't worth it to dig deeper, because all it took was one unthought sentence to tip the boat and send Tommy off. His entire world would clatter around him, every minute he spent making sure he wouldn’t be seen, finding the right way to borrow food without any trace, to make his own tools and his own home—just like a borrower should. Every delicacy he’d been trained to follow. It was exhausting, but that’s how it has been, and Wilbur doesn’t hope to change the fact just yet. 

Instead, he followed through with offering up a system that he explicitly said he expected Tommy to follow; a simple “keep your hands and eyes to yourself”.

It had been a risky card to lay on the table, but Tommy respected it.

So far. 

And he enjoyed their talks, for the most part. Occasionally his voice would run dry when Tommy would ask a question that made the hair on his neck stand, and he never misses the awkward pauses between their responses when Wilbur trails off as he thinks he’s talking too much or revealing too much or about to reveal something important.

All in all, other than that insecurity, it was nice to have a responding voice to relax with. 

Settling down against the wood of the bookshelf was a rewarding thing, something like a gift for his hard work. And a good fifty percent of the times he’d done it, Wilbur avoided thinking about how convenient it would be to get Tommy’s help with what he spent unnecessary time on.

Unfortunately for him, this time was the calm before the storm.

That was impossible to tell at that point, though. 

It was quiet as he approached from the hole he’d carved in the back of the bookshelf, save for Tommy wrapping his stream up with drawling out his goodbyes. Stars danced in the sky from what he could see without the glare from the warm fairy lights that Tommy had lit. He can just barely see between the plushie without risking being spotted. And from what he could see, Tommy had ended the stream by now and was only sitting with himself in the camera view.

He closed down the camera and returned to Minecraft. He barely knew what it was, though it seemed Tommy enjoyed it a lot. And it seemed nice, like…clean? Smooth? Wilbur can’t exactly find the words to describe something out of his range of knowledge. 

“Wilbur?” Tommy calls out, voice raised. 

“Hi, Tommy,” Wilbur replies softly—though he keeps his volume up for the sake of Tommy. It echoes around the closed off shelf just slightly, repeating back to him twice. “Was your stream good?” he asks, crouching down and shuffling his legs so he’s leaning against the same wooden wall he’s always on, head turned to watch Tommy’s fingers tap against the rectangular thing he always uses. He used to know the name of it, but it’s vanished in his head for the time being.

It’s lulling to listen to. 

“I think it was? I don’t know the word for it, it was fuckin’ weird, Tubbo wouldn’t stop punching me the entire time.”

“I don’t expect you to know the word, you’re too young to know big words,” Wilbur hums.

It was risky, but the sound of Tommy’s huffed laughter let his nails stop digging into his palm. 

“Piss off, you don’t even know what a keyboard is, ya’ dick. Don’t make fun of my lack of vocabulary, I have more important things to do than learn fucking English—like attend to my many many women, yeah?”

Wilbur bites at the inside of his cheek, combing desperately through the tone of Tommy’s voice, how it spilled into lilting syllables at some points and how his voice raised at other times. He seemed sarcastic…but he could never be sure. And it made his voice run dry. He closed his eyes and pushed the side of his forefinger against his temple, sighing in regret. Or maybe relief of the tease in part of his reply. 

The silence drew out awkwardly, Wilbur sat with his eyes closed and only the sound of the keyboard clicking. Before the rubber band could snap back on the both of them, Tommy chimed in. “Hey, Wil, y’know I was just joking about that, right? I’m not mad at you,” he reassures. It soothes him so quickly.

He opens his eyes again and returns his hands to his lap, ready to reply when he sees something shift in the shadows. Jumping, his hands instinctively reaching to his side for a needle, where he finds himself defenceless against whatever was there. The scent of rot runs in his senses. He wrinkles his nose at it, chest already heaving. 

“Wilbur?” Tommy cuts in, but he can barely hear it over his head spinning

Wilbur stays still, moving slowly. He can barely get halfway to his feet before something pushes on his chest and he slumps back against the wall, his head pushed down awkwardly. He pushes his vision up the best he can, what little light that floods in from Tommy’s room displaying a creature he could just faintly recognize.

A spider. 

Stories of the beings come to a slamming halt in his head. It pins another leg onto him, and he bites his tongue hard, saliva pooling in the bottom of the mouth he struggled to keep from screaming. He keeps his hands to himself, one pressed flat against the sleek wood and the other clamped over his mouth. 

Spiders…shouldn’t be that big. He’s never met one before, but it screams unnatural. It screams monster. Fittingly, Wilbur screams for a monster.

“Tommy—oh fuck—Tommy!” Wilbur yells out, his rules clambering to the ground with an inaudible shatter. The spider above him hisses in reply, the red glint in its many, many eyes making his blood run cold. It doesn’t do anything, it sits there, while Wilbur is defenceless. The predator has his prey, so again, in a last ditch effort, he calls for its predator. “Tommy!” again he yells, as if somehow the human could be able to help him.

Fuck his rules! Why was hiding one of them?

Why does he never plan for the worst?

Tears that fall to his agape expression, making his strained eyes stinging and his throat run dry. He swallows, shuddering at the lump he can't find a way to get rid of, and  if somehow it was possible, the spider pushes down harder, hissing at him again. Its eyes burn into his head. Wilbur huffs nervously and sinks further down the bookshelf wall.

Whatever Tommy’s reply is goes in one ear and pours right out the other, his senses a garbled pit of smog.

The spider above him twitches, vibrating through it's body where Wilbur can feel it in his core.

And before he can call once more for the human, the warm lights that look like orange spots in his teary vision are pushed into view as the contents on the shelf are shoved to the side to fix a problem Wilbur should've been able to get himself out of.

—— — ——

Tommy shoved everything to the side of the middlemost shelf, not bothering to acknowledge the bits and pieces that fell to the hardwood floor with a clatter. The only thing his instincts care about is the tiny thing that lay in front of him, barely the size of his finger, crumpled near the edge of the shelf with Shroud standing proudly on him. Wilbur’s curls barely obscure his wet cheeks that only get worse by the second.

Tommy stands for a moment, hands making useless efforts to find a way to get the spider off of Wilbur without startling the tiny. He doesn’t deserve that.

Eventually, he pinches the sides of his body and brings his other hand underneath, barely grazing Wilbur’s torso in the process. Tommy’s heart twists when he steps away with Shroud and more importantly his raging head which makes him feel awful for breaking the second of Wilbur’s couple of simple rules. 

“Shroud, fuckin’ dickhead, don’t do Wilbur like that,” he scolds the arachnid, slipping him into his cage and sealing it off.

He’d been completely mindless to let it be on the shelf.

He runs a hand down his face and returns back to the bookshelf, where Wilbur still was, chest still heaving from the scare and eyes absolutely fixed on him. They never left him, and he felt awful. It got worse with every step he took closer to the tiny, no matter how slow he approached and no matter how high he raised his hands in defence.

Tommy couldn’t blame him. He had lied to Wilbur. Let him sit in faux comfort.

Wilbur coughs, choking on the tears that don’t stop rolling down his flushed cheeks. Tommy’s expression twists, plummeting deeper in concern. He swallows, nervous.

“Hey, uhm, Wil?” he asks. Wilbur flinches at it, shuffling away from the edge of the shelf and further and further into the corner until his body is pressed up against the fold of the two wooden boards. “Hey, nonono—it’s okay, you’re fine,” he tries. “It’s—you’re fine. Shroud’s gone, yeah? He’s in his cage.”

There is the daintiest moment of silence before Wilbur bursts,

“Had you known? Did you know that entire fucking time?” Wilbur demands, his voice shaky, and not only because of his uncertainty.

Tommy had always hated how unsure he felt around him, even in the safety of the bookshelf, a place that he, at the time, had felt safe at. But he has bigger problems to address head-on than Wilbur’s wavering trust with him. Like, how heavy his chest was. 

“Wilbur, breathe in,” he says, ignoring the question. Wilbur obliges startlingly quickly, taking in a deep, quivering breath. “Okay, uhm, breathe out. And then in again—out,” he demonstrates, watching as Wilbur takes what he says to heart, not without a scowl on his face however.

Tommy stands back quietly as Wilbur sorts through his emotions. He watches with his breath held, and when tiny eyes connect with his own he releases it. Wilbur’s lips curl in on themself, then open like he’s going to say something.

Tommy listens. 

“Answer me,” Wilbur says. 

Tommy swallows and stays quiet, guilt pecking at him like a crow.

Finally, “Yeah, yeah I did. But trust me when I say I didn’t want anything to do with you! I—I mean I like talking to you ‘n all, but I respected your personal space, y’know?”

Wilbur considers it for a moment, eyes staring beyond Tommy, down at his hands, then back to Tommy. “I wasn’t safe, and you let me think I was! You’ve gone and what, let me go weeks thinking I was safe?”

“You were safe!” Tommy argues, brows furrowed, shallow in thought as to why Wilbur refused to believe what he said. Maybe he needed to be more convincing. “Seriously, Wil. Think about it, man: I knew where you were pretty much every day, and I didn’t make one move for you. I let you think you were safe, because you were. I literally own a spider, people hate those fuckin’ things, I’d never hurt him, let alone you.”

Wilbur stays quiet. Tommy can’t exactly say that he looks convinced or is even processing anything Tommy said to him, so Tommy lends him the time to. The borrower intertwines his fingers around his legs, nails tugging up his skin as he tightens his grasp.

Tommy’s hands twitch.

Slowly, attention never leaving the tiny, he inches his hand up and moves it closer to Wilbur, knuckle extended just barely so he can nudge the man. Tommy’s finger rubs against the soft material of a shirt that was once his as he tries to soothe Wilbur, grazing barely at his impossibly small and fragile torso.

Instantly, borrower startles, hands unlinking and rushing to his side, only for his tense shoulders to slump for some reason. Then Wilbur’s face twists into a deeper scowl and his hands, each barely the size of his fingertip, push at his knuckle. The feeling makes the fan in his mind whir loudly and his eyes go noticeably wide, the feeling of an entire hand against centimetres of his finger plays with his head. 

“Sorry,” Tommy murmurs above his crowded thoughts. 

“Don’t fucking touch me, yeah? You’ve done enough, you don’t get to fucking—" Wilbur pauses suddenly, his brows furrowing as he silently negotiates something, which ends with a quippy: "get the hell away from me, actually! I don’t want to see you right now.”

Tommy’s face, somehow, falls even further. 

—— — —— 

Wilbur watches with bated breath as Tommy walks off without sparing another glance at him. A part of him is rewarded at the sight of the human taking his demand, while the other worries for what might be to come.

Perhaps something awful that Tommy wanted to keep a secret by playing along. He doubts that fact, because in the back of his mind he knows Tommy, amusingly enough, would never compare with the mercilessness (or, respectively, the brains) of someone who could torture such a conscious being.

When the door to Tommy’s bedroom finally closes softly, he feels like he can breathe again; his muscles ease and the smog in his mind wipes away slowly. It still stands, but he doesn’t have it revving at every little insignificant movement Tommy had to offer.

Wilbur sighs and drags his hands along his face, sore eyes and tear-dried cheeks making his skin scratchy. He shuffles up, standing in the place that just moments ago he would’ve considered his safe haven. But dwelling on it didn’t appeal to Wilbur, so he found his way out of the stream of soft lighting and back into the shadows, the fairy lights covered by the thing Tommy had shoved to the side.

He steps carefully along the small board installed between the back of the bookshelf and the wall, ducking as he approaches the small hole. It’s equally as dark inside, and without the usual chatter as Tommy streamed or talked to friends it felt suffocatingly quiet and isolating. Contrastingly, at the very same time, he thinks the sound of it would make him sick.

Call him dramatic, but he has every right to be right back at square one with Tommy. 

Wilbur walks silently towards the lit part of the walls, where he’d hung a piece of excess cloth to section off his living quarters with the rest of the tunnel systems. He ducks under it, and instantly a matchstick-box bed with a portioned sponge as his mattress calls to him to rest his sore eyes.

He slumps on the makeshift bed. It sinks just slightly after it gets used to his weight, and a notable rarity of physical tire creeps along his aching body.

He eases his muscles to the best of his ability as he drifts, flexing his fingers and rolling his wrists. Wilbur can’t recall a time where his hands had been that tight or when they’d dug into his skin like that.

To put it simply, he felt betrayed. And maybe he shouldn’t, but he did.

Wilbur’s eyelids hung heavy over his eyes as mentality seeped into physicality. He shuffles his position, laying the length of the makeshift bed with hands crossed over his chest while he stared up at the almost endless ceiling. It climbed higher and higher until it was too engulfed in shadows to see properly.

He imagines Tommy’s ceiling, white and smooth. He wondered what it would be like to fall asleep under that roof instead of…well, truthfully, he doesn’t know if he considered the abyss to be a roof.

Sure, in most aspects it was. It sheltered him from the rain and kept him away from the blazing sun, and the walls around him made the temperature bearable, but he can’t say it’s exactly the most…relaxing thing.

Wilbur can mark many occasions where he’s walked past a motionless Tommy who stared up at his ceiling. At the time he’d assumed the kid to be asleep, but now he reconsiders. So, he supposes he wished to have a place to think. Because staring up at the same towering wooden panels that shoot beyond his vision is never calming. It’s effortless to imagine a thin, woolly, pitch-black leg creeping out of the shadow, then another one, and another, and another as eight beady red eyes blink simultaneously blink, and the hiss of it echoes through the caverno—Wilbur squirms uncomfortably and tries to blink away the vision. It fades as he tosses to his side and grabs aimlessly for the crumpled clump of sloppily sewn together pieces of cloth, something he thought would look appealing, but really looked untidy. Finally, his fingers grab at it, pulling the weight up to toss over himself.

His overheated body is cooled by the cold feeling of it having rested on the dusty floor. It feels nice, it almost distracts him from the impending doom that his mind can’t shake the feeling of. 

Wilbur's fingers curl into the cloth.

Minutes pass, the lulling sound of something being on a raging absence for such a peculiar and melancholy evening. 

Maybe an hour passes, perhaps three or six. There was one constant during his wakeful period: Wilbur could barely sleep. No matter if he shifted his body just barely or assumed a million different positions, if he kept his makeshift lights on or off, or if to soothe his restless mind he hit himself in the head.

Every time, he’d end up on his back, staring up at an abyss. Something in him wanted to seek out Tommy. It was an abrupt thought, and frankly a startling one, and he certainly weighed the possibilities of it for a long while. 

Somewhere along the way of deciding, his head stopped buzzing and he found a means to sleep.

**

Wilbur isn’t entirely positive it was morning as he wakes up to a thump! that rattles the fragile insides of his nook.

He jolts up, anxiety scaling his spine and foraging his bed-ruffled curls, and right down to his eyes, which flicker with the same uncertainty that was in his limbs when he shoved his bedding off of himself and stood to his rickety feet. 

Thump!

Wilbur jumps, the noise sounding strangely close—oh.

Tommy. 

For a split second, it had just been him in the universe. He had forgotten about Tommy’s piss-poor scheme of letting him bathe in the lie, fermenting it just right until it was inevitable that the betrayal would sting just a little bit more.

“Wil?” Tommy calls out, tapping at the outside of the walls again. “I’m not gonna try anything, I actually don’t even want you to come out. It’d be nice to physically make up with you, but words are good too. Just tell me you haven’t gone and left,” Tommy says. His voice echoes down the hallway, and Wilbur can imagine how close he must be. How far he’s leaning over the bookshelf just to get a shot at his crumpled trust. Bullshit.

He considers it, standing in the middle of the hall. It’s tempting, he can’t say he doesn’t still yearn for the feeling of just sitting with Tommy, being with another person instead of alone.

But, then again, he knew the risk, and it skyrocketed.

So, Wilbur stayed quiet until he could get his shit together. 

Tommy disagreed. 

“Wilbur,” Tommy drawled sourly, “come on, man, I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it already is, but just–” his voice is cut off as he stops talking. There’s a pause, a pleasing one, but it’s cut off with an abrupt “sorry”. 

The borrower sighs. “Are you trying to make me feel bad?” he asks. 

“Not really.” Tommy pauses shortly. “Maybe.”

Wilbur huffs, amused. “Well it’s not really working.” It is.

Barely, there’s the echo of a sigh. 

Through the weight of their silence, Wilbur considers his options: life over Tommy.

 It’s not exactly apparent to him, yet still he chooses something and throws all of his cares away to walk down the hall and closer to Tommy. 

“Well then I’m not trying to make you feel bad, because you know me, I never fail,” Tommy jokes, laughing at his own attempt at humour. Wilbur snickers quietly, trying to remind himself that Tommy is an absolute traitor. But he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“That is presumptuous of you to say,” Wilbur muses, a grin appearing as he imagines Tommy’s face as he reacts to Wilbur’s comment. 

By now, the borrower is moments away from the bookshelf opening.

He pauses, standing in the middle of the hall as he contemplates going any further.

Tommy, now sounding closer than ever, where Wilbur can hear every shuffle of his sleeve against the polished shelf, inhales sharply. He lets it out in a slow sigh, and Wilbur anticipates their witty conversation to halt.

“I gotta apologise, man,” Tommy confesses.

Wilbur perks, folding his arms over his chest to hear what Tommy has to say. 

“Go on,” he urges.

He can hear Tommy swallow thickly and sigh again. “I know I broke your trust, or whatever,” Tommy says, his voice muffled like he’s cupping his hands, “and I moved too quickly when you needed help—which in my defence I wasn’t thinking, but it still isn’t a proper excuse. I don’t…apologise for saving you or knowing where you were in case you did need my help, but I apologise for just fuckin’ not telling you so you could re-whatever yourself to feel safer.”

Wilbur blinks, tightening his fingers around the fabric of his sleeve and curling into his skin. Guilt clawed at him. He hadn’t known Tommy for very long, but he’s gathered enough to know he didn’t apologise very often—or so he’s heard. 

Before Wilbur could comprehend what just happened or even start to reply, he heard Tommy walk off.

So now, the only thing left in the air was Tommy’s echoing apology and the lingering product taste of Wilbur’s dramatised overreacting,

Guilt.

** 

Wilbur spent the rest of the day taking care of the things he didn’t have time to do before. He fixed the bulk of his weapons—sharpened the lead of a pencil and swept the remnants of it up, then went to hell and back trying to clean the deep grey off of his palm and fingertips.

He hadn’t left the walls though. Tommy leaving had made him feel beyond awkward, and no response he could think of portrayed how he felt or conveyed a proper response to an apology from the non-apologist.

And by the time he could hear Tommy pile into his room for the night, Wilbur decided to give up on his fake conversation and simply face his fears. Mental or physical ones, he hadn't decided yet.

He shuffles up from his bed and starts down the hall. As he does, he listens intently for Tommy’s boisterous streaming voice. He hoped he could catch the human before he started his daily streams.

Thankfully, it seemed like an easy task, because although Tommy had already situated himself at his desk and booted up a game, he made no move to his streaming gear.

Wilbur wonders intrusively while drifting down a rope he’d installed to the bookshelf if perhaps the skip in his schedule was because of him. 

The borrower, swiftly, moves onto the lower shelf and disappears back into the walls, the only difference being that he's travelling down the path to Tommy’s desk, which he’d made the opening a while ago when he’d considered visiting Tommy once. (It was a futile attempt.)

He travels down the walls, and when he gets to the abandoned opening, he finds it unblocked, completely visible unlike how he distinctly remembers leaving it.

His eyes narrow at Tommy.

The human notices him quickly, eyes prying away from the screen to catch sight of the unsure borrower. 

Wilbur tenses. 

“Hey, man,” Tommy greets smoothly, “I didn’t think you used that tunnel—opening–…thing.”

Taking a deep breath, Wilbur shakes his head. “I don’t. I made it a few weeks ago and left it alone, I found no use for it. I do distinctly remember covering it up, though,” Wilbur points out. Tommy shrinks back a bit. 

“Yeahh,” he drawls. “Sorry.”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Fair, fair,” Tommy says, glancing at his game and back down to the borrower. “Well, uh, did you need anything, then?”

Wilbur shrugs. “Well—I couldn’t sleep,” he lies. It wasn’t entirely a lie—although he hadn’t really been trying…oh well, Tommy’ll believe it.

“Did’cyu want to have a chat then?”

Wilbur eyes Tommy’s hoodie pocket, knowing he wouldn’t get over his fear if he didn’t try. “Actually–uh, could I just try to fall asleep in your pocket instead? Would you mind?” he asks.

Tommy frowns. “Really? You trust me for that?”

“I want to,” Wilbur admits, shifting from the cutout in the wall and down onto the desk, following along the wooden surface cautiously. He stares up at Tommy, who in return stares back down at him. 

“Yeah, sure, then, just—come here,” Tommy says, moving his hands from his mouse to the table, laid flat only an inch from him. Wilbur stares at the intricacies in it, each line that is spread taut and each colossal finger laid steady for him.

Sighing, Wilbur places an unsure hand to Tommy’s skin, the contact being the first human contact he has ever had. Wilbur can’t even describe the feeling, something faint of a spark or a fan whirring. His eyes narrow as he concentrates on continuing on, pulling himself onto Tommy’s hand until he’s sat in the middle.

Tommy curls his fingers just slightly and lifts it off the table. His gut churns with a new sensation as he watches the ground extend from him as he’s lowered to Tommy’s abdomen, the red cloth of his hoodie’s pocket soon encasing him when Tommy tilts him just slightly inside. He tumbles off and onto the unstable surface. 

At this moment, he is infinitely close to Tommy. He can hear the subtle churning of his gut, which had startled him, but held a strange comfort. 

He’s resting with a traitor, who in his mind posed as more of a saviour at the moment. 

—–—