And the phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing....
FIRST FIC OF THE NEW YEAR LETS GO!!!!!!
Okay so firstly, this fic has gone full circle. It started as a fake fic title from me to @guppybubbles which she made a prompt for which I liked and the spawned a story so crazy how that works. Link to that post here. But yeah anyways this is that prompt in story form lol. Was a lot of fun to write so enjoy!
cw: Fear, fear of death, minor graphic gore descriptions but nothing fatal, panic, rats, ghosts, Uhhhh I think that's it. Just fluffy stuff lets be real <3
wc: 2923
Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.
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It started a few months ago.
Wilbur had moved into his new apartment, finally free of the constant pestering and confinement of living under his parents roof. Things had been great at first, well they had until his stuff had started going missing.
At first, he assumed it was rats or mice that had gotten into the apartment and had been causing a raucous, but he’d been assured by his Landlord that they made sure to do thorough checks and the last pest control visit had been not even a month ago before he moved in.
Fast forward to now after what had been a month long period of the man thinking his new home was haunted as things fell off shelves or strange noises made themselves apparent in the middle of the night, Wilbur was talking to said Ghost that had made his initial move a living terror.
Well looking back, maybe not a living terror but more of a mild inconvenience.
Tommy- or so the ghost called himself, had been calling him from his friend Jack’s phone at least once or twice a day since the phone was misplaced, and got a call from said ghost proudly stating: “I can see youuu.”
At first, Wilbur was convinced it was just some kid that had stolen Jack’s phone (which technically it was), but after he tried to locate the phone and found the signal was in fact coming from his apartment and yet nowhere to be found, Wilbur relented and gave into the boy’s story. They certainly were adamant about not giving it back or ever showing themselves to get it.
But even if they did steal a phone just to play pranks, Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the boy (We pretend Jack’s feelings about a child stealing his phone are irrelevant). They seemed lonely and after a while, his fear of the ghost haunting his house evaporated and he found himself enjoying talking to Tommy. Tommy seemed to think the same as any chance he could, he seemed to be ringing and wanting to chat.
Like right now as his own phone started vibrating with the classic Xylophone trill, the display showing incoming call from ‘Ghost Gremlin’ on the illuminated screen.
He wondered how the phone hadn’t run out of credit yet. Ghost powers he assumed.
“Hey Gremlin. What’s new in the world from beyond today?”
“Oi! I’m not a Gremlin! I’m a Big Man Ghost! Get it right Wilbitch.”
“Oh my apologies. How’s the world from beyond Ghost gremlin?” The man chuckled as he tapped on speaker modes to continue with copying his music work down hands free.
Wilbur heard a soft groan through the speakers and could imagine the boy probably rolling his eyes.
“It’s fine I guess. Same boring dead plane. Dark and dreary but oh so boring. That’s why I’ve rung my favourite Human Bean.” Tommy responded gleefully.
That was something strange about Tommy. He always called Wilbur a Human Bean no matter how many times he tried to correct his pronunciation of Human Being. Wilbur persummed his ghost was probably something like age 10-12 since he didn’t really seem to know about a lot of things with the number of times he’d explain something despite knowing what a TV was.
“Yeah I guess being dead would get boring if you lived in a place like that.”
“Yep.” Tommy said, popping the p. “So what are you writing down? I see you’ve got your guitar out.”
Wilbur smiled as he wrote down a few more lines in cursive. “I’m just writing out the final version of that new song I’ve been working on. I can play it for you when I’m done later.”
“But Wiiiil! I want to hear it now!!!!” The boy drawled in a whiny tone.
Wilbur practically could hear the pouting face Tommy was making through the phone line.
“You know I don’t get to hear music often. Can’t you just play that funny song about Jared now? You’ve already finished that one AND it’s one of my favourites.”
“Tommy, I literally played Your New Boyfriend for you when you called yesterday. I think you can wait a little bit.”
Tommy huffed in response, the ghost relenting a little mumbling an annoyed fine before the two settled into a comfortable silence. For a being that was quite literally intangible, Tommy sure had a way of making his voice sound very real.
This was how a majority of their calls would go. Simple small talk about whatever the two were doing in the moment or had to do until Tommy ended up going on a rant about something random and Wilbur was happy to listen. It’s how he ended up learning about Tommy’s strange love for mud and he himself sharing his love for eating sand. He’s never heard anyone sound more offended about eating sand for a snack.
What? It’s good he swears!
But some of Tommy’s rant topics were strange. Like what need does a ghost have with needing fishing hooks or dental floss? He assumed that the boy must have had some unusual fascination with tiny things before he died because he seemed to be very particular about how things needed to be if he were suddenly shrunk.
Like today how the Ghosts rant topic was about Rats and what right royal pricks they were.
“Like you don’t understand Wilbur, Rats are the absolute worst! They just come marching into your space and then decide to go through all your food stores and eat it- which they’re never satisfied with by the way, before trying to take a bite of you!” Tommy explained.
“Yes they are quite wretched little creatures. I wouldn’t like it if one bit my hand either.” Wilbur agreed as he finished writing another verse.
“If I could, I’d stab them before they ever even got close. I’d take my sword and plunge it into their hearts, all heroic and stuff.”
“Couldn’t you just use your ghost powers and I don’t know, fling them away?”
How would a rat even bite a ghost? Ghost’s don’t exactly have tangible bodies, Wilbur thought.
“Stabbing them sounds like a lot more work when you can’t actually touch them.”
“Well if you want to be a boring ghost you can. But what other ghosts do you know can stab their enemies?”
“Well you-”
“NONE! EXACTLY!” Tommy shouted triumphantly. “I’m one of a kind Wilbur and the Poggest Ghost to ever live!”
“Sure Tommy. Sure.”
The ghost feigned offense with a long gasp. “You dare doubt me, the great and powerful TommyInnit? I could destroy you if I wanted to, you know.”
“Yeah but you won’t.” Wilbur shot back. “You’re just a sad child that has no one better to talk to and would miss me if you destroyed your only friend.”
“I would not because A. I have lots of friends and B. I’m not a child.” The boy snapped.
“How does that even make sense?” Wilbur queried as he finished off the last few lines in cursive.
“It doesn’t have to make sense purely because I’m better than you.”
“Sure little man.”
The boy huffed through the phone line. “I’m not little.”
“Little Baby Man.” the brunette teased.
“Stop it.”
“Little Baby Man Child.”
“AM NOT A LITTLE BABY MAN! I’M A BIG MAN! BIGGER THAN YOU, THE WORLD OR EVEN THE UNI-”
“But you accept that you’re a child.” Wilbur smirked as he moved the papers to pick up his guitar.
Tommy groaned.
Yeah, Wilbur didn’t mind this at all.
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Wilbur played his guitar for a few more hours before Tommy eventually said his goodbyes to do ‘ghostly things’ as per usual for the night, leaving Wilbur the rest of the evening to settle down for bed. He’d been asleep probably an hour or so before being woken to the sound of his ringtone.
Groggily, Wilbur reached for his phone on the nightstand, half asleep as it rang. Instead of grabbing it though, he accidentally knocked it to the ground earning a groan from the man as he lazily searched the ground for it. Just as he grabbed the phone, the call rang out leaving one new voice mail message in his notifications.
Blearily ignoring who the message was from, he opened his phone and tapped on the voicemail raising it up to listen.
‘You have one-new-voicemail BEEP!’
“Wil, WILBUR!”
Hang on. That sort of sounds like Tommy.
“PICK UP YOUR PHONE! PLEASE WIL! I NEED HELP!”
Wilbur bolted upright now fully wide awake. Tommy was in trouble. He needed help. Where was he? How could he help a ghost?
Before his mind could divulge into further panic, his phone rang again and Wilbur didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Tommy? Tommy, where are you? Are you okay? I-”
“WILBUR HELP ME PLEASE! IT’S HERE! IT’S GOING TO GET ME AND I’M CORNERED! I’M GONNA DIE I PLE-” The cries of the boy sending the brunette into panic mode.
“WOAH WOAH woah Tommy I need you to calm down for me.” Wilbur tried, listening to the labored breaths of the ghost on the other line. “I need you to tell me where you are so I can come help, can you do that.”
“I- I’m.. Uh. I CAN’T TELL YOU! YOU’LL HATE ME!” The boy yelled between hiccupped breaths as they began to cry, loud thumping and hisses filling the background noise.
“Tommy, all I care about is finding you to help, I’m not going to hate you.”
“But you will! Everyone hates me when they find out!”
Tommy had never sounded so terrified before. Wilbur never truly believed anything could hurt the ghost before, but whatever had them so panicked must be serious and the increase in thrashing noises was not easing his nerves.
“Toms, I could never hate you. I want to help you, but I can’t do that unless you tell me where you are.”
“I- Promise?” Desperation clear in the boy's voice.
“I promise.”
There was a brief pause from the boy before they shakily instructed him into the Hallway.
“Okay, open the closest and I’m in there.”
A loud screech came through the phone's speakers followed by a cry in pain before Tommy was screaming for help through the speakers.
“WILBUR HURRY! I CAN’T HOLD THEM OFF FOR MUCH LONG—.”
“Tommy? TOMMY?!”
The line was dead.
Wilbur had never run faster in his life. His mind spiraled with horrid thoughts at what that sound was and why Tommy would be in his closet, but despite the ridiculousness of it, his focus was on helping his friend.
As he approached the closet, the sound of muffled hissing and shrieking filled his senses and Wilbur was quick to fling open the closet.
Nothing.
Wilbur stood confused but the noises didn’t cease, only growing louder now the door was open. He followed the sound down to the floor, realising that whatever it was, was beneath the floorboards.
Wilbur was quick to act and ran to grab something from the kitchen to pry the boards up, the sounds growing worse with every passing second. As soon as he had what he needed, Wilbur started heaving each nail out from the floor, prying the board up to reveal what was beneath. With one final pull, the board came loose, and the man yanked the board back revealing an unseemly sight.
A huge rat was scratching and gnawing at what appeared to be a tiny wardrobe. It hadn’t seemed to notice Wilbur yet, hell bent at getting whatever was inside the little cupboard. It was when the rat tried head butting the cupboard did a terrified scream hit his ears.
The brunette grabbed the rat in an instant, gripping the thing tightly as it writhed and screeched in his grasp. Quickly he stood and moved to take it outside where he threw it; standing there, panting heavily watching as it landed with a thump before whimpering away.
What just happened?
He barely had any time to dwell on it further before tiny little thumps could be heard coming from back down the hall.
Tommy
“Tommy!” Wilbur rushed back inside and crouched down on his knees as he observed what laid before him. “Tommy are you alright?”
Despite it being wrecked, it appeared to be a miniature room. Small fairy lights lined the walls and small trinkets made up what could be a wrecked table and chair, sprawled all over the place from the intrusion of the rat. But what really shocked Wilbur, was seeing Jack’s old phone slightly banged up beneath part of a broken floor board in the corner.
Gingerly, Wilbur reached out and lifted it from the debris, to inspect if it was actually real or his imagination. It indeed was the very same phone Jack lost and somehow was even plugged into a charging port.
What is all this?
“Tommy are you?” Wilbur asked, confusion lacing his voice. Why was Jack’s phone in a tiny room? Where was his friend?
Suddenly, the wardrobe the rat had been so interested in moved. Wilbur set the phone down as the small piece of furniture jerked again, making it wobble ever so slightly in place.
With bated breath, Wilbur carefully reached forward, gently picking up the tiny wardrobe between his thumb and pointer finger bringing it into his palm.
It was banged up badly from how the rat had been trying to tear into it, but intact. What was it about this that had the rat so enthralled?
Trying the best he could, Wilbur grabbed the tiny little door knob and pried the door open.
Wilbur froze, dumb founded at what was hidden inside.
Staring at him with blue eyes blown wide in terror, was a tiny little blonde boy, pushed far back into the wardrobe as humanly possible, gripping the sides with all their might. Their breathing was labored and they looked worse for wear, tears through their little jacket and angry red scratches littering their arms, some even appearing to be smeared with blood.
“What on earth?” Wilbur’s brow crinkled in confusion.
He was holding a tiny person in a wardrobe.
A tiny person that had almost been killed by a rat.
The tiny boy’s eyes darted all over the place, seemingly trying to figure out how to escape the mess they were in, as Wilbur tried to process that he was holding an entire person within his palms. How was this even possible?
“I- ” The tiny person begged, Wilbur’s full attention locked onto them as tears continued to stream down their face. “Please don’t hurt me Wilby!”
Tommy?!
No. No Tommy was- Tommy is a Ghost that made random phone calls. Tommy that loved his music and mud that was very much a ghost and not a tiny little person.
“Tommy?” Wilbur brought his free hand to cover his mouth. “What. How?”
“Please don’t hate me! I’ll leave! You’ll never see me again, just don’t hurt me!” The little boy pleaded, curling into themselves in an attempt to hide themself. “I never meant for this to happen. You weren’t supposed to know and now you’ll-”
“Tommy, Toms calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah right! That’s when you thought I was a ghost! Now you know the truth and I can’t do anything about it.” the boy sobbed.
Wilbur hated how small Tommy looked. He was always so bright and full of life when they spoke on the phone, but now it was like holding a fragile flower. So small, so delicate, so precious and in need of protection. He just wanted to reach out and hold them close.
“Tommy, look at me please.” Wilbur pleaded, waiting patiently for the boy to look at him before he continued.
“Tommy, I would never hurt you. Yes you pretended to be a ghost and took Jack’s phone, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Tommy lifted his head and swiped his arm across his nose of snot and tears as Wilbur continued.
“You’re one of my best friends Tommy. I don’t talk to anyone nearly as much as I do with you and I care about you, whether you’re a ghost or not.” Wilbur brought Tommy a bit closer to himself, lifting the tiny boy up to be eye level.
“Besides, I made a promise to not hate you, remember? I intend to keep it.”
Tommy's lip began to wobble, before the boy burst into tears, unable to hold himself back any longer.
“I’m sorry Wilby!” The boy cried as they crawled out of the wardrobe onto the man's hand. “ I wanted to tell you but I was scared.”
“Shh it’s alright.” Wilbur assured, setting the wardrobe down before bringing Tommy close to his chest protectively. “I’ve got you and it’s all going to be okay.”
While this whole ordeal was crazy and strange, in this moment it didn’t matter.
They’d have to talk about why the boy was living in the man’s floors and why he pretended to be a ghost in the first place (not to mention how and why Tommy was like 3 inches tall) but that could all wait for later.
Wilbur loved Tommy more than the boy ever understood, and it brought great joy to Wilbur that finally, he was able to meet his pseudo little brother face to face. They’d figure everything out eventually, but for now-
This was enough.
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AND THANK YOU IF YOU READ TO THE END!!
For real this was fun to write and I did it all in one sitting lol. Was good to just smash out a short project that was something new and different. It took me far too long to get around to editing it though lol. Thank you Squishy and Munchkin for Beta reading. You're the best! ❤️❤️❤️
Tag List Link here: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles
OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT, LOOK AT THE ART SQUISHY MADE FOR THIS AFTER THEY FINISHED READING!!!
I MEAN LOOK AT THIS! IT'S THE WARDROBE SCENE! When I tell you I squealed in delight when I saw this I mean it. I walked into work grinning because it's all I could think about lol. Thanks again beautiful! Truly gifted you are <3
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Thinking about being the second option’s second option.
Pairing: Male Character x Top Male reader
cw: 18+, power dynamics, age gaps, blowjobs, riding, dom!male reader, sub!male character, unrequited love, love triangles, jealousy, possessiveness
You wouldn’t otherwise be on his radar, maybe you were much younger than him, maybe he was your superior and you his subordinates and anything beyond a professional relationship would be highly inappropriate or maybe you just weren’t his type.
But God you had tried to approach him and many times at a - a subtle comment here and there that could mean more if he just followed up on it, a longing gaze or a light touch that he promptly ignored or played off, you’d even mustered up the courage to fess up your feelings one time only to get rejected immediately.
He was interested in someone else, or at least that’s what he had said when you confessed and that had been enough for you to completely back off.
A week later or so and you saw him with that very same someone in tow. However you’d quickly realized he’d been tasked with patching up wounds he himself didn’t cause because it was so blatantly obvious that the person in question was in love with someone that wasn’t him. He’d been blind to see or didn’t want to see and even though you had in mind to tell him you’d stuck to the promise you made yourself, and stayed away from him.
However it hadn’t been long before you’d been assigned the very same task- patching up wounds you didn’t cause for the man that had rejected you once.
He showed up with tears in his eyes and a couple of drinks in his system begging you to make him forget. You rejected him at the spot told him to come back when his lips didn’t taste like gin and tonic.
You didn’t think he would come back but he did and soon you had your all too good superior down on his knees, warm wet mouth eagerly sucking you in like he’s been waiting for this opportunity
But you weren’t easily fooled you knew the eagerness wasn’t for you.
Although his eyes were locked with yours you could see the distant look on his face, clearly imagining someone else in your place but none of that mattered not when his lips were stretched taut around your cock, not when he’s got his nose buried in your sweat damp fringe of curls and your cockhead is hitting the back of his throat, and not when you could taste yourself on his mouth when you finally slotted your lips together
But it didn’t end there because he’d continue to show up whenever the wounds reopened which was rather often. Not that you minded , not when you had the older man bent in ways that had all the joints in his body aching in protest, one hand fisting his salt and pepper hair the other clawing the sheets while fucking himself harder, deeper onto your dick
Harder faster more please he sobs into the sheets, a name that isn’t your own neatly tucked in between the begs and pleas, eyes squeezed shut as if he’s imagining someone else in front of him
But you couldn’t care less not when you’re the one who gets to feel his walls clenching down onto your dick, not when you’re the one who gets to lick the tears away from his cheek not when you’re the reason he’s cumming in such way he hasn’t done in years.
And while you lay there wrapped up in white sheets basking in the afterglow of your release, you watch the way he hastily puts the clothes back on his body, ever so determined not to spend the night.
You were no fool, you knew what type of relationship you had, you were just here to patch up his wounds and nothing more than that.
Besides you were nowhere near his type at least if you were to compare yourself to the men he approached at bars yet you were the one to have the bigger man pinned beneath your frame, strong body bent in half and practically skewed onto your cock, deep baritone voice reduced to wails and whines as he begs and pleads for you to let him cum.
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