#source? made me laugh innit

[pauls1967moustache]

When trying to determine the veracity of a piece of Beatles lore make sure to always ask yourself these three important questions:

1. Is it funny?

2. Is it cunty?

3. Is it insane?

If the answer to any of these is yes then it definitely happened. Don’t worry about the source, that’s not relevant.

[anjaelle]

The Consequence of Pride

Pairing: Tangerine x Black!Reader

Warnings: Guns, Gore, Glass injury, Attempted murder

Word Count: 1.3K (a shorty)

A/N: Something I threw together on my phone in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep. Tried to check for errors and such.

(gif source)

The humor of the situation wasn't lost on him.

Two men lay in a puddle of their own blood just a few feet away, with their brains painting the vibrant blue wallpaper behind them. When you told him that you shot the assailants and then tripped and fell into the glass shards of the broken coffee table, he laughed. He couldn't help it. It just slipped out. He apologized until you let out a tiny affronted gasp which made him guffaw even harder.

"I hate you." "Uh huh."

"I'm going to shave your mustache off in your sleep."

"Bit dramatic, innit?"

You let out a low grunt as he pulled a few smaller shards of glass out of your hand with a tweezer and tossed them aside. "That noise sounds familiar."

"Shut up, Tangerine."

You watched him furrow his brows as he sprayed the antiseptic on your hand and you whined at the sting. He was never surprised at how easily you were able to hold your own. But you also had a surprisingly low pain tolerance and an even lower tolerance for bullshit.

"I know, sweetness, I'm almost done."

As usual, he could see right through you. Despite the fact that you stood in the remains of your once beloved housewarming gift, all he could focus on was the way your lower lip jutted out pitifully and the way you clenched your good fist in anger. He wrapped your leg up in a gauze to cover up the bleeding cuts after pulling glass out of your thigh.

You were dressed in a red satin pajama set that Tangerine bought you from Dubai that you were excited to finally show him after not seeing him for over a month. Luckily, the blood stains weren't obvious, but the shorts didn't protect you from the glass. And your first night with him was definitely ruined.

"I still can't believe you laughed at me." You mumbled as he kissed the palm of your hand through the bandage. You couldn't let that go. You were injured and in distress, and your boyfriend had the audacity to let out a little giggle...a little "tee-hee" over your clumsiness.

"C'mon, it's a little funny. It's kinda funny, baby. Admit it." He raised his brows at you.

"No."

He clicked his teeth and shook his head, "Gotta work on getting a better sense of humor."

You pretended to bristle at him when he kissed your forehead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you liked the attentiveness.

He ignored your antics, gently lifting your head up to inspect your face. He tilted your head to the left and then the right, looking for any surprise injuries. He’d taken the time to clean the dried blood from your face.

“It’s not mine,” you clarified, glancing at the bloodied wall, “It’s asshole number 2’s.”

You couldn’t really tell what was going on in his head. His eyes expressed a mix of anger and concern about the situation at large. They’d come here with the intention to hurt or take you. He knew that much.

The question was why and how they knew where you were. You hadn’t worked a job in ages. They clearly thought you’d be off your game, but they were quickly proven wrong. He glanced over at the bodies in the apartment foyer.

“How long did that take?”

Time seemed to slow down during the struggle. It could’ve been 2 minutes or 2 hours between the time they barged in and the time you were plucking glass shards from your elbow. You told him as much.

“So…what the hell happened?” He questioned casually. He took step back to look you over in full.

“They pretended to be delivery men. I know, don’t give me that face. I ordered dinner for us and they showed up. I took out asshole number one first. Asshole number two tried to fight me. Me! You know I’m not that great at fighting.” You fidgeted with your anxious hands as you spoke, remembering the adrenaline you felt as you and the assailant struggled to take each other out, “He lunged at me, but missed and crashed into the coffee table. I tried to get to the gun, but he got back up and grabbed me by my hair.”

Your gun was kicked under the couch in the scuffle, so you had to improvise. “We were fighting again. Next thing I knew, I had his gun and—bam.” You mimed a headshot with your hand.

As you spoke, Tangerine looked around the apartment as if following the story in his head. He hummed, “Taking out two men on your own in little Jim-Jams. You’re kinda scary sometimes.”

“Don’t try to flatter me after you laughed at me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You know who did it?” Once he was sure that everything was calm and you were okay, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to move the frame of the coffee table out of the way.

You watched him from your plush purple couch, perpetually pleased that you didn’t really have to lift a finger while he was around. Even as you crossed your legs to get comfortable, you ignored the sting of pain in your thigh where the glass dug into your skin, “I dunno. They didn’t have any IDs or easily identifiable tattoos on their arms. I wasn’t really interested in examining them.”

You grimaced at the thought of touching their cold, dead bodies.

“You seem pretty fuckin’ calm about all of this shit.” He said, kneeling down to sweep up the broken glass, “I need to report it, y’know. Someone’s gotta be looking for them.”

“It’s not the first attack. Probably won’t be the last. I’m a hot commodity, babe.”

He shot you a tired look and you grinned proudly at his annoyance with you.

“I called the cleanup crew to come.” You added in a mocking tone, throwing your voice and putting on his accent, “So, yes, I was responsible, bruv.”

“I don’t sound like that, you dick.”

“Mhm, you do.”

He swept up the last of the glass and raised his brows at you, then threw his voice to match yours, “Shut up Tangerine, stop laughing at me. I’m overly sensitive and hot with a princess complex.”

You matched his expression and he grinned at you.

“Whose fault is that? Hmm.” You asked, motioning at him. He let out a loud laugh, tossing his head back and leaving to dump the glass.

“Fair enough.”

You sat curled up next to him on the couch while the cleanup crew moved the bodies and tried their best to get the blood out of your wood and wallpaper. You already knew it was a lost cause. Despite the actual gore being washed off, there was still a tinge of pink visible on it. He’d finally showered and changed into joggers and a t-shirt, tying his hair up. His hand rested lazily on your upper thigh, gently rubbing circles into your skin. You’d showered too, forgoing the cutesy pajamas he bought you and choosing just a plain concert tee and shorts. The plushie he bought you from Seoul sat tucked between your knees, and you felt fully comfortable for the first time in hours.

“Sweetness…” he mumbled tiredly.

You stopped scrolling through your phone, “Hmm?”

“Be honest,” he gave your thigh a light squeeze and a small smack, “did you break the coffee table?”

“No…yes.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard the rumble of another giggle in his chest.

“How’d you do that?”

You let out a long sigh, knowing you were gonna regret this for the rest of your life. “I was doing a victory dance. And I tripped over the couch leg and fell. In my defense, it was already cracked from when the other guy fell into it.”

The giggle turned into a full blown laugh and you couldn’t even be mad about it. It was a stupid way to get injured. An embarrassing way to get injured, even. He leaned down and pressed a few kisses to your forehead.

“Thank God. I fuckin’ hated that table.”

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 3: Chapter 16

The Glamour Friendship Test: August 2018  

Word count: 1k

SkyFire 3 MASTERLIST

-LOUIS TOMLINSON-

Friends with Aurora

“Friendship Test?” Louis scoffed. “Nah I can’t stand her you know what I mean. She’s a right pain in the arse… Wait, did she also take the piss or was she genuine in hers?”

“She said very lovely things about you,” a crew member yelled from off screen. 

“Well fuck, now i’m just gonna look like a right prick,” Louis laughed. “In all seriousness though, I love her. I feel very protective of her and she feels like another little sister.”

- AURORA STYLES-

Friends with Louis

“We met 5 years ago at the American Music Awards,” Rori started. “He was incredibly drunk so I don’t think it really counts, but we met again when my now husband invited me to dinner at Louis’ house about a month later.”  

“She’s an easy one to love,” Louis said. “She was so nervous to be meeting all of us and I just felt protective over her almost straight away so I took her under my wing and she’s been there ever since.”

“The running joke is that Louis is hardwired to adopt everyone he meets to be his new little sibling, and I’m definitely no exception to that. I grew up as an only child but if anyone asks, he’s definitely my big brother.”

“Our friendship certainly started because she was dating one of my best mates, but it’s so much more than that now. She’s family.”

“We’ve been mates for 5 years now,” Louis continued. “She's been there for me for some of the biggest moments of my life and I’ve been there for hers. I’m bloody lucky to have her.”

“I’m pretty confident that when you asked Louis these questions he took the piss and was a sarcastic little shit so I’m going to try not to be too emotional or serious now, but I genuinely don’t know what I would do without him. From the moment we met he made me feel welcomed and safe. He was a constant source of humour and joy whenever I joined the band on tour, and ever since he has been one of the people in my life that I can rely on the most.”

- EXERCISE ONE-

Give each other compliments

“Are we doing serious ones?” Rori asked as she held her pen ready to write. 

“You’re asking me?” Louis laughed.

“Fair point, that’s on me,” Rori chuckled. 

“Aurora Louise Styles,” Louis started in mock seriousness before immediately breaking into a goofy grin and chuckling. “You have the biggest heart and you are one of the kindest and most loving people I’ve ever met.”

“I thought we weren’t doing serious ones you arsehole,” she said before she threw her notepad at him and hastened to come up with genuine compliments on the fly. “In that case, Louis William Tomlinson, you are fiercely loyal and incredibly protective of the people in your life. I admire the way you make the people you love feel safe and valued.”

“I am in awe of your talent. You write the most incredible music and I am always impressed by your lyrics.”

“I was going to say the same thing,” Rori laughed. “You’re one of my favourite people to write with.”

“I think you are incredibly brave to be a person in the public eye given how minging your face is,“ Louis continued with a loud laugh, unable to maintain the serious tone they had both slipped into. 

“I think you are incredibly brave to still be pretending to have a singing career when your voice is like a dying cat,” Rori countered. 

“Well that went off the rails fast,” someone said from behind the camera. 

“Sorry,” Rori replied with a sheepish grin. “We’re British, it’s not in our nature to talk genuinely about our feelings.” 

“It’s a stereotype for a reason, innit?” Louis agreed.

- EXERCISE TWO-

An unspoken truth

“What’s something you’ve never told the other person but you want them to know?” someone from behind the camera asked. They both turned to look at each other hesitatingly. 

“Ummm…” Rori started. 

“I’ll go first love,” Louis offered. “After my mum died, you were my rock and I never told you how much it meant to me.”

“Lou…” Rori replied, blinking hard to try to clear the tears welling in her eyes. 

“You and Harry dropped everything to drive straight to Donnie and you cooked and cleaned for us. You kept our heads above water and you knew exactly what I needed without me needing to ask.”

“Fuck Lou,” Rori gasped, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “This was supposed to be fun.”

“Sorry love. Your turn now though.”

“Ok, after Columbia…” she stumbled for a moment, trying not to cry. “After Columbia you helped me piece myself back together. For a while after the shooting and after my amputation surgery I was feeling really low and I was feeling lost. When you flew straight to New York, you made me realise I was going to be ok. You were there for me when I needed you  most. I don’t think I will ever stop being grateful for that.”

- EXERCISE THREE-

Hug each other for 1 minute

“Alright, get over here,” Louis said, spreading his arms wide. “Perfect timing for a big hug after all that.” Rori fell into him, wrapping her arms around Louis' middle while his own went around her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest and let out a breath. 

“This is nice,” she said, breaking the silence after a little while. 

“It is,” Louis agreed. “You’ve always given great hugs.”

“Right back at you.”

They both stood there, holding onto each other until the timer ended. 

- REFLECTION-

“You know this was really nice,” Aurora said. “We’re not usually very good at being genuine with each other without it becoming sarcastic or just making it a joke, but I liked being able to be real with you for a bit.”

“Me too,” Louis agreed. “Definitely didn’t think we’d get into the heavy topics there.”

“Me neither but it was nice to have a moment to appreciate each other.”

“You’re so right.”

“Thank you for having us Glamour,” Aurora wrapped up, looking straight at the camera. “You can see more of Louis and myself every week on The X Factor, starting September 1st on ITV.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[jolienjoyswriting]

Love is Inevitable (ft. Tiera Foxglove), Ch. II

The finale (chapter 2) of "Love of Inevitable," a cross-canon fan fiction story.

The Following is 100% Non-Canon to the Source Material!! This story / chapter is completely non-canon. While the written prose does try to keep things in line with established lore, some characters within may act slightly out-of-character at times. Regardless, it is a completely self-contained work and has no impact on any works past or future outside of its own storyline. Generally speaking, though, all fan fiction is non-canon, innit?

The friendship is in ruins.  What can Joseph do to repair the damage he's done?

Word count: 3,748 – Character count: 21,425 Drafted: June 13th, 2022 Revised: June 14th, 2022 –

I know.  A story where the featured character doesn't fall madly and irreversibly in love with Joseph is a rarity for me.  But, hey.  It's realistic.

Tiera Foxglove and related characters and concepts created by and © herself Joseph Lithius and related characters and concepts created by and © Jo Li

[ ↶ Prev. Story | ← Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter → | Next Story ↷ ]

    "You… never gave me a reason not to."

    That was the best answer I could come up with.  And, at first, it seemed like the wrong answer.  Tiera's ears and tail fell and her face grew troubled.     "Oh…"     Then, she covered her mouth and shook her head.     "No… no-no-no…  I…"     She paused, moving her hands away.  She looked really worried for some reason.     "Joseph…"     Then, she said the most damaging thing she could have possibly said…

    "Joseph, I… I have a boyfriend…"

    My world was shattered.  Tiera had a boyfriend?  I almost couldn't believe it.  Was that the reason she never flirted with me?  Was that the reason she usually didn't take the initiative in our online roleplays?  Was that the reason I was always the one to pull her into a hug in real life?  Her boyfriend?  Everything suddenly made sense…

    "I… I'm guessing you guys aren't in an open relationship, then?"

    For a few seconds, Tiera just looked at me like I'd gone mad.  Then… she started laughing.  It wasn't a laugh of pity or a laugh of confusion.  She was genuinely amused!  With good reason, too.  We knew each other well enough to know when the other was joking and, honestly, I was trying to be funny.  Anything to distract from the crippling pain I felt in my heart…  Even so, she eventually sighed and shook her head, offering the sweetest, most sympathetic smile that I had ever seen on her face.  It was almost like she knew how I felt.  I silently prayed she didn't have first-hand experience with heartbreak…

    "Joseph…"     Tiera quietly sat next to me, still smiling.  She calmly took my hands into her, rubbing the backs of each with her thumbs.  I knew she wasn't doing that just to calm me down.  She was nervous, too.     "I… I'm really flattered," she told me, her warm, brown eyes watching my golden, tear-filled ones.  "And… if things weren't…"     She looked away, ears folding.  She knew that was a bad way to start her thoughts.     "I-I never meant to lead you on," she started again, looking back up.  "I never meant to give you the impression that…"     She paused, rethinking her words for a second time.     "Joseph, I… I care about you.  Truly, I do!  You're a wonderful friend and a joy to be around!  I just… can't… be…"     Her face became pained.  She didn't want to finish that thought.  She didn't need to.

    "I'm sorry…"

    Tiera perked.  I had finally said something.     "N-no," she countered.  "I'm the one who–"     "I misread everything…" I said, offering a pained smile and starting to cry.  "I thought… wh-when we started…  When the roleplaying…  When you let me…"     "It…  It was just innocent fun, I thought?" she answered.  "We were just roleplaying, after all.  If I'd known you felt like this about me…"     After a long period of silence, I asked her: "Where do we go from here, T?"     And after an equally long period of silence, she answered: "I… I don't know…"

    The two of us sat at opposite ends of the couch.  I was hugging my legs and Tiera was squeezing her arms.  The poor girl looked beside herself with guilt.  Tears were starting to well in her eyes and she couldn't look at me, anymore.  She desperately wanted to tell me something that would fix the situation.  What could she say, though?  That she secretly fell in love with me, too?  That she was going to dump her boyfriend for me?  Or maybe, we could just have a secret relationship that didn't involve her boyfriend at all.  I cursed myself for having such selfish thoughts.  I knew better, besides.  Her reaction to the kiss said it all.  She couldn't be with me like that.  We were just friends.  Honestly, she probably wasn't too sure about that, at this point.  Not after my actions… and her realization.

    "I'm sorry…" I offered, again.     "Me, too…" she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.     There was another long period of silence.     "You're… you're a good person, Joseph," was the next thing she said.  "Someone like you deserves someone who can make them happy."     I stayed quiet.  Where was she going with that?     "I… I can't make you happy," she said with a pained look on her face.  "Not in the way you'd like.  For that… I'm truly sorry."     "You don't need to apologize," I told her with a frown.  "I just… misread everything."     "Maybe… but…"     Her face curled into an uncomfortable smile.     "You said it, yourself…  I 'never gave you a reason' not to…"     I looked down.  She wasn't wrong…     "I should have said something sooner," she said in a calm voice.  "I should have told you that I have a boyfriend…  I just didn't think it was necessary!  You never… seemed serious…"     "Wh… what?"     "Well… whenever you started getting 'flirty'," she explained, "you always backed off before I could even say anything.  I thought you knew I had someone.  You really had no idea?"     My head turned to the side.     "I just… didn't want to make things weird," was my answer.  "You never seemed interested in me, like that.  Online was different but in real life?  N-never.  I don't… I don't know why I thought tonight was different…  M-maybe it… it was the kiss you gave me…"     She covered her mouth, tears finally slipping from her eyes.  She seemed to realize… that kiss was the catalyst.

    We both sat there for a while just generally feeling miserable.  I'm not sure which one of us felt worse…  Neither of us wanted this.  Neither of us needed the heartache.  Tiera never meant to break my heart and I never meant to cast doubt in hers.  What was done… was done.  Our friendship was over.  All because I wanted more than friendship from that cute, blue fox…

    "I'm… going to bed."

    After a while, I stood up from the couch.  I kind of hoped that Tiera would say something… maybe stop me from leaving… but all she did was nod.  I guess our friendship really was ruined…     "G'night… Tiera."     She didn't even answer.  Maybe she couldn't answer.  Maybe she was waiting for me to leave so she could finally break down.  I knew that's what I was going to do as soon as I closed that bedroom door.  I started walking away… only to stop halfway out.     "Tiera?"     I looked over my shoulder.  She was curled into herself, ears folded and tail draped over her feet.     "I… I want you to know that… I really liked being your friend.  And not because of the roleplays or the occasional hug.  You're… you're a really nice girl.  Sweet, cheerful, a little shy…  Hell, you're pretty much my ideal girl."     I knew I was pouring salt on an open wound… but I had to tell her.     "I'm positive that I misread everything and read too far into certain things.  You never gave me any reason to think I shouldn't kiss you… but you never showed me any signs that you wanted me to, either."     Her ears twitched a little.  That was about it.     "For what it's worth… and I truly mean this… I'm sorry…"     "Me too…" she whispered, trying to keep it together.     "And… for what else it's worth?"     I swallowed hard.  She didn't need to hear this but I needed to say it.     "I truly love you."     She flinched, making the couch creak.  I knew that was one sentence too far.  She was just about to lose control.  I quickly vacated the area and sealed myself in my room, not wanting to see her like that… and not wanting her to see me in such a state, either.

    As I lay on my bed hugging myself, all I could do was cry.  I kept picturing Tiera sitting on the couch, arms clenched around the legs pulled up to her chest.  She was in pain…  She was in just as much emotional pain as I was.  Maybe even more.  She hated this situation.  I hated it, too, but for different reasons – or, Hell… maybe we hated it for the same reasons.  I still stupidly held onto the idea that Tiera wanted to be with me but didn't want to hurt her boyfriend to do so.  It was a stupid, selfish thought…  I knew better.  I just didn't care.  I wanted to be with her, but I couldn't.

    Life was "funny" like that…

    The morning after, I stumbled out of my bedroom, flinching as the sunlight hit me square in the face.  I huffed and heaved, groggy and in pain.  I had done… a lot of crying the previous night; enough crying to give me a whopping headache.  I headed to the bathroom and took some medicine for that, then I started for my kitchenette.     "Joseph."     Only to hear a familiar voice call my name.     Slowly, I turned toward the voice.  To my surprise, Tiera was standing there.

    "You… stayed?" I dumbly asked.     "I stayed," she said in a tense, neutral voice.     "Is there… a particular reason you stayed?"     I cursed myself, watching Tiera's ears pull back.     "N-no, wait– I didn't mean–"     "Let's talk," she interrupted.  "Let's… just talk."     I hesitantly nodded.  What was left to say?  I was as curious as I was scared…

    Tiera and I sat on the couch, staying at opposite ends like the night before.  She was looking right at me with a determined expression.  What was her game plan?     "Joseph, I…"  She paused.  "I'm sorry for leading you on."     "Y-you didn't!" I cried.  "I–"     "Let me finish," she said, cutting me off.  When I went quiet, she told me: "I'm sorry for leading you on.  I shouldn't have let myself get as close as I did with you."     I wanted to say something.  I decided not to.     "I'm not… completely oblivious," she said with a shy smile.  "It was always in the back of my mind… the idea of you having feelings for me.  I… I usually ignored it because it made me feel like an egotist…"     The girl laughed.  It sounded a bit hollow.     "Joseph…" she said, looking straight at me.  "I genuinely value our friendship…"     She paused, looking down.     "No…" she then said, shaking her head.  "No, that sounds too clichéd…"     She looked up, then.     "Joseph, I want us to stay friends," was how she corrected that thought.  "I like you!  You're fun, funny, and nice, and I feel calm when I'm around you!  That's… that's all I wanted to say.  Those are my honest thoughts.  Now… I want to hear yours."     I blinked several times.  Tiera was being… unusually candid.  It really threw me.     "You… want my honest thoughts?" I cautiously asked.     "Don't hold back," she said with an encouraging smile.  "The more we know, the more we have to work with.  Even if you don't think I want to hear it, just… let 'er rip!"     She brushed her bangs out of her face, her smile warming.     "Seriously.  Tell me what's on your mind and in your heart," she said in closing.     "Well…" I began.  "Can I ask you something?"     "Yes?"     "What's on your mind and heart?"  I paused before asking, "How do you honestly feel… about me…?"

    Tiera opened her mouth, ready to answer.  However… no words came out.  She brought her hand over her mouth in a closed fist, her smile disappearing and ears folding.  She suddenly seemed far less sure of herself.     "Okay…" she said after taking a deep breath.  "Okay… fair is fair."     She took another breath.  Then… she began.     "To answer you directly, Joseph… I… I feel there's something there.  I didn't want there to be…  It's hard to ignore how you make me feel, though.  Like I said, I feel calm when I'm with you…  There's no pressure and no anxiety.  You like me for who I am and don't look down on me for what I'm not.  I… as clichéd as this sounds… I really value you as a friend, Joseph.  You're patient and sweet and kind.  I don't have to pretend around you.  I can be weird, sad, or even p… pervy…  I can… just… be me!  And that makes me happy."     She paused for several seconds, trying to read my face.  I was trying not to show any kind of expression but I know for a fact that my body language was as bad as hers.  She knew how amazing I felt after hearing all that.     "If I had met you first," she told me with a smile, "there is every chance that we would be dating, right now!  I think you would be a great boyfriend!  But… Joseph?"     She took another breath.     "Joseph…  I'm in a very wonderful relationship with another amazing guy.  I wouldn't… couldn't… throw that away on the chance that you could make me happier.  I… I'm sorry…"     I knew she meant that.  I knew something else, too.     "I respect that."     Tiera perked, tilting her head.  I was finally smiling, again.

    "Tiera…" I began.  "It's no secret that I fell for you like a ton of bricks."     I ignored her shy giggling as I continued.     "I'm not entirely sure when it happened or what changed how I looked at you.  Maybe it was the first time we hugged.  Maybe it was the first time we started roleplaying on Discord."     I blushed a little.     "Maybe… it was that first E-R-P we did…"     She blushed twice as hard and covered her mouth, trying not to interrupt with her giggles.     "Wh-whatever it was… I had this feeling that this cool, cute girl was one that I could spend the rest of my life with.  And, maybe… that can still happen.  Just… not in the way I originally wanted it to."     Her hand moved away and she offered a sympathetic smile.  I smiled back, though it was a bit forced.     "When I look at you," I told her, "my heart beats faster and I feel short of breath.  Even now, after all the drama… I still see you with this… pink heart border, of sorts.  I… heh… I can't help how I feel about you any more than I can control the weather or something.  Without trying, you managed to steal my heart.  And… even now… you never completely broke it."     "What?  No, of course not," she protested.  "Why would I…?"     "Well, some girls might," I said with a chuckle.  "You, though?  You seem more interested in trying to patch some of the cracks and put it someplace safe so it doesn't get more damaged."     She brightly smiled, her tail wagging.  "I… suppose so.  But…"     She trailed off, at a loss for words.  All she could do was smile.

    "I want you to keep it safe and secure," I eventually told her.  "I know I can trust you with my heart, Tiera."     "But I…"  She paused, looking down.  "Joseph…"     "I know it's a lot of responsibility.  But, I also know that you're up for it."     "N… no…"  She shook her head.  "No, Joseph, that's not fair…!"     I expected an emotional outburst.  However, when she looked up, she was still smiling.     "Don't leave me in charge of your heart, Joseph!" she laughed.  "Knowing me, when the time comes to give it back, I won't even remember where I put it!"     "Then, I guess it'll always be safe, won't it?"     She laughed even harder.  I started laughing, too.  This serious conversation had sure gotten silly in a hurry…

    "Joseph…"     Tiera sighed, her smile calming.     "Joseph… I…"     She paused again.     "Joseph…"     Her face warmed a little and her tail wagged.     "Look, if you want to hug me or something–"     Before I could finish my silly thought, Tiera launched herself at me, her arms squeezing my shoulders.  I laughed out loud, wrapping my arms around her middle.  She laughed, too.  She hugged– well, no.  We actually kind of cuddled for a little while.  There was… a little bit of nuzzling involved, too.  Thankfully, we calmed down before things got uncomfortable.  Again.

    "Permission to speak freely, T?"     "Hm…?"     I gently nudged her upright, smiling with a blush.     "I'd love to kiss you, right now," I told her, letting my tail wag.  "And… maybe nibble on your neck."     She put a hand on her shoulder, deeply blushing and shyly smiling.  Coincidentally… her hand was right where I had been nibbling, the previous night.  And that reminded me…     "Tiera, I have a confession…"     "Wh-what?" she answered with a jolt.     "Last night, I… I took advantage of you…  S-slightly."     She blinked, seeming unsure of what I'd just said.  Then…     "I know…"     She looked away, ears folded, face red, and looking surprisingly guilty.     "You… know?"     "I… d-didn't want…"     As she trailed off, I slowly realized what she was trying to tell me.     "You… didn't want me to stop, did you?"     Her face scrunched and she trembled.     "I-I'm a bad girlfriend…"

    I tilted my head, watching Tiera sit there and hug herself.  She sniffled and whimpered a little, doing her best not to cry in front of me.  I'm not sure why I was so calm.  I… should have felt guiltier than I did.  Whatever the reason, it did help me defuse the situation.

    I scooted over, pulling the girl into my arms.  As I stroked her hair, she calmed down, leaning into me and closing her eyes.     "You're not a bad girlfriend, Tiera…" I whispered.     "I shouldn't have let you nibble on me…" was her quiet response.  "That was bad of me for so many reasons…"     "Well, you can think about it like that… or…"     Tiera blinked… then she gasped.  There was no warning as I leaned in a bit her neck.     "J… Joseph…?"     She was frozen.  There was no resistance… but no encouragement, either.  It was only when I started sucking that she finally shoved me off of her.

    "What the hell, Joseph?!" she yelled in an uncharacteristic outburst.     Tiera was giving me a look that could kill.  One hand was clutching the spot where I'd bitten her and her tail was twitching with irritation.  It probably didn't help that I was grinning.     "What the heck…?" she quietly repeated, narrowing her eyes.  "Joseph…  Why?"     "You love your boyfriend."     "What?"  She trembled a little, her face calming.  "Y… yes.  I do.  But what…"     She trailed off, watching my face.  Then…     "Oh."     She realized what I was doing.  And she slapped me for it.  Gently.

    "You're mean," she said with a shy sort of smile.  "You could have just told me what you were thinking instead of showing me…"     I grinned.  "It was more fun this way."     "You animal…"     She play-slapped me a few more times before quietly laughing.  She sighed, then, and offered a much calmer sort of smile.     "O-okay…" she murmured.  "Okay…  Okay, I'm not a bad girlfriend.  I just… let my curiosity get the better of me.  If… if you'd kept going, last night…"     "You would've stopped me," I said with confidence.     Tiera nodded and smiled.  "I would have!"     "So… what does this mean for us?"     Despite the innocent nature of the question… she blushed fairly hard.     "W-wait, I… I didn't mean it like that, T!" I said, blushing a bit, myself.  "I just meant–"     "Let's keep things like this to online RP."     "I… uh… w-wait…"     As I started blushing more… she smiled and tilted her head down, giving me the cutest, shyest sort of look.  I couldn't believe she still wanted to do that, online…     "Are… are you sure?" I asked.  "What if–"     "It's okay.  Everything's already out in the open, Joseph," she told me in good faith.  "It should be fine.  And… I like our little fantasy R-Ps.  You're, um… a v-very good… w-writer…"

    Our faces were both bright red as we stared at each other.  I was fidgeting with my tail and she was playing with her necklace.  We were both… kind of out of words?  Still, I had to wonder how far I should read into what she'd said.  What were the implications of that…?     "What… do you mean by that, exactly?" I asked.     When she hid her face and girlishly laughed… I sort of got my answer.     "Wh-why do you want to encourage me like this…?"     She shook her head.  She had no answer for me.     "Seriously.  It's a bad idea."     When I scooted toward her, she finally looked at me.  Her face was still red and she looked surprised.  Like… genuinely surprised.     "You shouldn't tease me with tidbits like that," I purred as I leaned in.  "It paints a very naughty picture in my head…"     "Mm…"     Tiera's body tensed and her breathing hitched.  I was leaning toward her neck, again.     "J-Joseph, no, please…" she whispered.  She probably wouldn't have stopped me, but…     "You're lucky I love you, T."     Rather than bite her, I just nuzzled under her chin and leaned back.  She smiled in relief, softly ruffling my hair.     "Th-thank you," she said in response to the nuzzle.  "Um…  Uh…"     "For what it's worth?"     She perked, tilting her head.     "I like the way you write fantasies, too…"     The girl looked down with a little smile.  She was only blushing a tiny bit.     "Did… I say something bad?" I asked, noticing a slight discomfort in her posture.     "I should go."     "What?  Wait, hey…"

    Tiera slid into her boots and then walked over to my apartment door.  I got up and followed, just kind of curiously watching her.  She had a hand on the doorknob but… she wasn't turning it.     "T?" I called.     The girl remained silent.  A few seconds later, she turned around and leaned against the door, giving me a soft, patient sort of smile.     "See you online?" she offered, her smile becoming hopeful.     I blushed…  I guess I pushed her a little too hard.     "S… sure?" I answered, not sure, myself.     She nodded, then she leaned forward and gave me a quick hug.  With that, she spun around, opened the door, and left my apartment, leaving me bewildered.

    Later that night…  Um… well…?  I don't… I don't want to…  We– um…  W-well, it doesn't matter!  Just, suffice to say, despite everything… it seemed like Tiera and I were gonna stay friends!  Maybe it wasn't "ideal" and it probably wasn't the best choice for either of us… but knowing just how much we cared seemingly changed things for the better.  We could make it work!  Still… I'd be lying if I said that one thought didn't stay in my brain…

    The thought of being hers.

[embearsilly]

Hello! Call me Anarchy Anon! Take your time with this please. Can you maybe do a c! SBI + platonic husbands that are all exploring the nether and they find "The NetherVoid" Also find the "Quartress" Then Tommy drags Tubbo and Ranboo to the "Quartress" to steal stuff, but Blaze Empress reader caches them and about to send blaze guards, but Philza (first one to realize the trio was gone) stopped reader and reader recognized Phil [because he is a old and good friend of hers] {Season 4 Lore}

Don’t Steal From The Empress

Ooooooooh, this is such a cool idea! Also, hello new anon, could I have your pronouns please! I changed it up a bit. Hope its to your liking.

Pronouns - She/her

Warnings - slight explicit language, small mention of nsfw (just saying that someone got busy and nothing else)

The sickening humid air flowed around the crimson dimension. The heat is almost unbearable unless you are used to it.

Loud footsteps rang out around the blonde as he ran through the large nether fortress, two pairs following close behind.

“Tommy! Wait up!” The ram hybrid called after the blonde haired boy. Ranboo followed after the two, close behind his husband, Tubbo.

The blonde skillfully weaved around the monsters which roamed the hall of the fortress, the other two struggling to keep up.

After around a few minutes of non-stop running the blonde boy finally came to a halt. Tubbo was the first to reach Tommy while Ranboo was huffing and puffing behind them, trying to catch his breath.

“Tommy,” Tubbo paused, letting out a huge breath of air before he continued, “where are we going.”

The blonde gave the hybrid his signature innit grin before he began to speak, “Well yesterday I was exploring the nether void and was messing around when I found something that was almost as cool as a big man here.”

Tommy began to mine away at the ground when all of a sudden he dropped down into the abyss. Ranboo let out a gasp while Tubbo looked down the hole noticing the boy falling onto a white thing down below. Tubbo glanced at Ranboo before jumping in, Ranboo following after.

When they soon were greeted with a large white fortress which they fell on top of, no it was more castle than a fortress. It’s quartz walls stood around thirty blocks tall, a tower on each corner. In the center of it stood a large castle with towers on all corners of that as well. In front of them was a beautifully crafted bridge that hung over the lava.

The two husbands looked on in awe at the castle, I mean they had seen amazing builds before but nothing like this, it was marvelous.

“What, who's is it?” Questioned the enderman. Tommy shrugged his shoulders and continued down the path leading towards the kingdom.

Tubbo noted the two guards standing at the entrance of the large doors, they were tall and looked buff.

“Tommy don’t you think this might be a tad bit dangerous,” Ranboo’s  tail flicked from side to side as he continued, “I mean what if these people aren’t friendly, we might be killed.”

Tommy let out an annoyed huff, “Has that ever stopped me before?” he questioned.

“Look, I have a plan! We sneak in there, find some shiny things, borrow them and get out of there.” Tubbo raised a brow at the ‘borrow’ part.

“Are you going to be returning what you ‘borrowed’.” Tubbo air quoted when he spoke.

“No."

“Then that’s not borrowing. It’s stealing Tommy.” Tommy rolled his eyes and glanced at the guards.

“Look, I promise nothing bad is going to happen, okay? We get I and then we get out! kapeesh?”

Ranboo and Tubbo glanced at each other, going with what the other would say.

“Okay, we're in.” Tommy pumped his fist in the air. “Let’s goooooo.”

Tommy struggled against the grip of the guard, he was much shorter than them.

“Let go of us, and we won’t tell the great Technoblade about this!” The guard only let out a small chuckle as he led Tommy to a larger room.

Behind Tommy was Ranboo and Tubbo who were being forced to go the same way as he was going.

Ranboo was panicking, his heart beat picking up to high speeds. Tubbo placed his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder, “Everything is going to be okay."

They were led into a large room, which Ranboo believed to be the throne room possibly due to the large throne which stood at the end of the room.

As they made it down the hall Ranboo began to make out the person sitting on the throne.

She stood around nine feet tall, maybe taller than that. Around her were 3 pairs of arms on either side of her, they weren’t attached to her body which made Ranboo wonder how she could move them. Around her arms were the regular blaze rods which circled around her.

Her crown looked like antlers; it was a crimson red. She was a sight to behold. Her dress.

Standing beside her throne were two guards, the one on her right had their mouth gaped open and the one on her left had a smile on their face, they stood around 9 feet.

The woman narrowed her eyes when she spotted the boys coming down the hall, standing up to her full height. She was actually thirteen feet tall, making her tower over the enderman and the others.

When they finally came to a stop the four guards kneeled in front of the empress. She glared at the three boys before drifting over to them.

Ranboo stared in awe when he made eye contact with her, she snarled, "I didn’t think that the Ender King would send one of his own kin to die, oh wait I forgot he already did that to every single one of his subjects, now the only ones left live in the overworld and here in the nether. He was too greedy, he wanted every biome and dimension in his world, he instead fucked it all up and caused a mass extinction.” her voice echoed around them.

“You talk too much, woman.” She narrowed her eyes at the blonde and growled, “You were caught stealing, and I do not-"

“We weren’t stealing, we were just borrowing.” The Empress let out a thunderous laugh.

“A thief and a liar, now what I was about to say, thieves in my kingdom are given the penalty of death.” Ranboo’s heart stopped.

“Now how would-“ she was interrupted by a loud voice, “Y/n! Stop!” The empress lifted her head trying to locate the source of the voice, when she saw it.

“Philza Minecraft,” she called out, he flew down the hall and landed in front of her, bowing his head in respect.

Phil had been brewing some potions with Techno when he noticed something was off.

“Techno. Does something seem a tad bit off to you mate?” Techno paused for a moment before shaking his head no.

“I think today has turned out to be a good day though, its been a while since we’ve had one of those.” Phil nodded before returning to brewing.

All of a sudden he let out a loud gasp making the pigeon hybrid jump slightly.

“The boys!”

“Y/n L/n, s’been a while.” he let out a small chuckle. He glanced at the boys shooting them a ‘we’ll talk when we get home’ look.

“We can talk in a few moments. I'm in the middle of something if you can’t see.” she glanced back at the boys.

Phil put his hands up in front of him, “Yeah, I noticed, but I have to interrupt you with this. I can’t let you execute them,” he let out a loud huff, “they’re mine."

The empress raised a brow, “They are your kids, I would have never known, I mean the blonde here shows no manners, and is a liar. The next one here is a ram hybrid and the other an enderman hybrid.”

“Yes, yes I know. The blonde is my son, the other two are his friends.” She let out a small chuckle, “For a moment I thought you had a way with the ladies."

“I must apologize for the three of them, if you may spare them and punish them some other way.” She raised a brow and let out a sigh.

“As long as they return what they have stolen and apologize, I will give them no punishment.” The blonde cringed slightly at the thought of apologizing to her.

The other two apologized right away while it took Tommy a bit more to get himself to apologize.

“Thank you Y/n,” Phil dipped his head for her. “We will meet again soon.” she nods a goodbye before taking her place on her throne once more.

Once they had been escorted out of the kingdom Phil had smacked all three of them on the back of the head. “What were you idiots thinking.” he placed his hand on his head, “My god you three could’ve died if I didn’t show up.”

“We had it under control.” The blonde whined, “No we didn’t.” the other two said in unison."

“You guys are supposed to have my back on these kinds of things.” Tommy let out an annoyed huff.

Let's just say that they were all grounded.

[strawberry-jammers]

A child to protect (pt.1)

Tommy innit x child!reader

in which tommy raises a child in the not greatest of times

this takes place during Tommys exile

part 2 part 3 part 4

 this is my first fanfic in a while, so its not the best lmao

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

“Run run go go go!” tommy says to ranboo laughing, but in a slight panic. “I didn't agree to this!!” 

“Well it's not my fault the house caught fire!” ranboo shook his head. “It literally is!” Tommy just laughed at the tall Enderman hybrid.

Not like anything bad will happen.

“Tommy, I'm sorry, but you have been exiled from lmanburg.” shit. 

“Tubbo you can't do that!” fundy protested. Quackity agreed “come on, you can't do that!” tubbo stared at them, asserting his power (even tho hes shorter than both of them), “i can and have,” he switched his gaze, “tommy, please get off lmanburg property.”

Tommy looked down,l shocked. He was exiled, again. This cannot be happening.

“Come on tommy, we’re leaving.” dream says, grabbing tommy. “What do you mean? I'm not in lmanburg, i was exiled from lmanbug!” dream shook his head. “Your exiled from the dream smp as well. Now come on.'' Tommy nodded, slightly giving up. 

Ghostbur saw this from afar, not completely understanding what was happening. “Hey tommy!”  ghostbur says, approaching the slightly u[set child. “Here have some blue.” ghostbur says, handing the tall boy some blue. “Uh thanks.”  

Time went on, Tommy now had a good tent, and the nice little area ghostbur made. He went out to get some food, sense dream kept blowing up his stuff. 

"How come there's no animals around??? This place is fucking cursed." Tommy says to himself. He walked towards the trees, sitting down against one of the trunks. He sighs, relaxed a bit. He's been going through so much, he really just needed a break. 

He stared up at the sky, barely any clouds in sight. A typically perfect day. "Aaaahhh" he heard. Tommy jumped slightly. "The fuck was that??" Tommy gets up from his tree, and walks over towards the crying sounds. 

Upon further investigation, he sees a small basket, which seems to be the source of the crys. "The fuck?" Tommy crouched down, moving the blanket that was covering the child. "Who would leave a child all alone like that?" Frowning, he grabbed the small child. "Hey little one? You all alone too?" The child seemed to calm down slightly, baballing at the tall child.

“Yeah, i get that. Being alone isn't fun huh..” the child made more sounds at the human, as if they were communicating. “Hey, wanna come back with me? We can be alone together! I can build you a tent, we can listen to music, hang out with….fuck!” Tommy completely forgot about dream. He'd kill the child in the hole the moment he saw them. 

Tommy had to either leave the kid, or come up with something so dream wouldn't kill the baby. “Okay big man, you can do this.” Tommy thought about what he could do. He could build underground, and say he was mining, but dream could sneak up on him and would probably be looking around logstedshire for anything.

“I could make a house somewhere, and I could come by to take care of you and stuff..yeah that could work!” the child babbled happily at his excitement, no longer crying. “I'll build you a little hut, and I'll visit when dream leaves, okay little one?” the child babbled some more, tommy took that as a yes.

After several hours, the sun had already set, the hut was finally done. The newly named (y/n) slept away in their crib, exhausted probably. Tommy sighed, sitting next to the crib. He knew he couldn't sleep, even if he could. If he didn't get to tnret before dream showed up, he'd be in severe trouble. He watched as the baby slept soundly.

“You're kinda cute for a baby. I hope you can stay with me..” Tommy says, getting up from his spot on the floor. “I'll see you tomorrow little (f/i).” Tommy says, leaving the small child for the night.

The baby cried for hours before Tommy could return. This wasn't the..best living conditions for a child. They had to make do with what they had.

In the morning, Tommy got up early. He left a note for dream saying he’d either be mining or getting food and such. He left a spare set of stuff for dream to blow up, making sure he had his own tools and such. 

Tommy left for (y/n)s hut, which resided in the middle of the woods. He was looking forward to having someone, anyone around. 

When he arrived, he was met with nothing but crying. He forgot kids were needy.

“Shit shit shit shit shit, little (f/i) i am so sorry, shit shit shit shit! What do you need??” Tommy ran around the hut, trying to think of what they could possibly need..

It took him an hour to realize he needed to change their diaper. He then took 15 minutes to find something that would work, for the meantime at least. After taking care of the child, he sat there, exhausted. Yeah this wasn't the best idea, but Tommy's ego was too big to let him quit now. 

“This is gonna be harder than i thought kiddo… no matter, big man Tommy will raise you.” the child reached up for the boy. He smiled slightly, touching the kids hands. Seeing as the child giggled at this. “Things will get better (y/n), I promise.

The day was spent with Tommy figuring out how to raise a child, coming up with ideas on how to raise a child and handling dream all at the same time. He wanted to raise the child, he wanted someone to be around him, someone who he could talk to with no worries if they'll tell someone they shouldn't. He didn't have that in exile, so this child was the closest thing he had.

He spent months raising a child and shielding them from dream. Exile was taxing as ever, he didn't know if he could raise a child and deal with everything he was. Dream nearly found out so many times, and after seeing what he did to Mexican dream, he couldn't let that happen to his kid. He just couldn't.

A few more days pass, ghostbur hasn't shown face in ages, dream was close to finding (y/n) and his secret room several times, so many times. 

Tommy sat on his bed, waiting for dream to show face. He needed to get this over with so he could see (y/n). The child needed him after all. Tommy heard the portal make noise as it would when someone crossed threw it. Tommy left tnret to see who was now entering logstedshire. 

As always, it was dream. “Hey tommy.” tommy smiled. “Hey dream!! How you been man!!” dream stared at the boy, tommy not knowing what expression he held. That mask covers his face, so he’ll never know.

“Has anything new happened around here?” dream asks, walking over towards the blue house and tent ghostbur has made. “No, not really.” dream nods.

They joke around a bit with each other, dream and tommy having a great time with each other for once. Soon it came time for dream to burn Tommy's stuff. 

Dream just chose the worst spot for the hole however.

“Wait wait dream-”

“Tommy what is this?”

Shit, he found it. This isnt good.

[murderousginger]

Cherry Red

Cops & Robbers epilogue???

Warnings: They’re criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Word Count: 2,982

Song inspiration here

Warm rough fingertips danced along your bare back, stopping to trace along the horse tattooed upon your shoulder. The cool rings made you grip your champagne flute tighter as the hand -- which most certainly was not your husband's -- dipped from your shoulders down your exposed back to the indent above your waist. 

"Backless dresses suit you much better than men's clothing, pet," his breath tickled your ear as he rounded you, his red beard unruly compared to his sharp black suit. "You lied to me those years ago. You are a Shelby."

"You ever hit me again, Mr. Solomons, and I'll gut you in front of God and Polly," you smiled as you tipped your glass to him, your wedding ring gleaming against the flute. "Keep that in mind tonight."

"I don't remember you being so brave those years ago," he squinted, looking over your dress. As his gaze followed the line of your body you cocked your hip, showing your leg through a slit in the gown. His eyes widened before snapping back to your face. "Pretty creature gained courage with a ring on her finger."

His hand lingered on your waist as his fingers played with the edge of your cherry red dress. You lifted your eyebrow at him but refused to move out of his grasp. 

"You looked me in the eye far more when I was dressed as a man," you countered before finishing your glass in a gulp. "Perhaps my witchcraft only works on you when you're reminded of my body. You forget what you told me?"

"Which part, love?" He smirked as his free hand smoothed his beard.

You leaned forward and pressed your hand on his chest as you whispered into his ear. 

"Funniest thing about pretty creatures, pet," you drawled, mimicking his accent. "The most colorful are usually the likeliest to kill you dead without warnin'."

You pulled back and looked around the room with bored eyes. You could see Arthur shooting glances your way as he conversed with a man, and John and Esme were at a table across the crowded ballroom. Esme wrangled their youngest and John's glare fixed on Alfie's arm. His fist was tight on the table as Esme drew his attention back to his family. Finn and Isaiah were both talking in a corner with the help, darting glances your way from time to time.

You raised your glass to a maid and nodded for her to bring her tray over. She smiled nervously and hastily cut through the crowd. 

"Mrs. Shelby," she said, eyeing Alfie standing so close with his hand on your waist before her eyes snapped to yours. 

"I'm bored of champagne," you monotoned. "Get me a whiskey, please, Dolly. Mr. Solomons? Would you rather rum? Gin?"

His eyes flashed and you felt his fingers flex on your side. 

"Don't drink the stuff, meself," he said. "I suppose, when in hell, I'll have a whiskey."

"How courteous to fall to our level," you teased as the maid tittered away to fulfill your request. 

"I've seen no white knight come to your rescue yet, pet," his cold rings pressed against your bare spine. "Why do I feel glares but no one has dared interrupt us? Where is my good friend Mr. Shelby?"

"I've no need for a good man, let alone a knight, Alfie," you smiled and raised your glass to the ballroom. "This is my dear husband's fundraiser. He's around somewhere talking old men out of their money and into his favor."

"Ay, Birmingham and London wasn't enough, he had to join parliament," he chuckled. "And his wife's scandalous attitude has gained more than one headline in the papers."

Alfie's hand raised to graze along your tattooed shoulder. 

"You show you are marked so openly," he murmured. "Like a badge rather than an abomination."

"God never visited Small Heath," you laughed. "No need to gain favor of an absent father."

"Blasphemous with a smile," Alfie shook his head and pressed his lips into a tight line. "Perhaps you should be in men's clothes with the balls on you."

"Says the man with his hands on another's wife at a very public gala," you smiled curtly and squinted at him, as if assessing him and finding him wanting.

"How will the papers headline it?" Alfie said, leaning closer as if to tell a secret. "Another man touching the good politician Shelby's wild wife. Her bare back at that. Scandalous, innit love?"

You laughed loudly and threw your head back, running your fingers along the seam of his suspender inside his jacket. You felt him freeze under your touch as you pressed against him, taking in the spice of his cologne as heads turned to follow your laugh to its source.

"Aren't you a prominent beacon in the Jewish community, Mr. Solomons?" You pushed the words into his ear, velvet draping over him as your grin grew Cheshire-like. "I'm not the only one that can suffer a scandal, and I can promise a pious man will make more headlines than a Shelby."

The maid returned with a stiff 'ma'am' as she handed the whiskey glasses to you both. You murmured your thanks, sipped your drink as you deftly took a step away and turned to face your adversary. 

You looked over his shoulder to see you had Polly's full attention, her scowl cutting you as your glance stuttered on her. She nodded once slowly as she glared daggers one more moment before returning to her conversation. The signal was loud and clear: behave. 

Your eyes searched the ballroom again, finding John's jaw set as he held a toddler, his eyes squinting at yours in question. You winked at him, a smile curling on your lips that you tried to hide by the rim of the whiskey glass. He was not amused.

"Getting all your orders signed to you, love?" He chuckled. "Did you get in trouble with your family? Not as free as you'd like to think."

Alfie smiled wide, a wolf who realized he found a soft spot, and took a large gulp of his drink. He grimaced, clearing his throat as he frowned at the glass. 

"I'll forgive you this once," you said, your attention returning to him. "So it won't interfere with our business."

"Business?" Alfie frowned. "You would never interfere with my business with Tommy."

"No, Alfie," your eyes hardened as Alfie's expression blanked. "I do mean our business."

"Alfie, old friend," a warm voice called from behind you as a familiar hand rested on your back. "I hope you didn't start business without me. Some of my guests require more attention and it becomes difficult to get away. I see you found (Y/N) to entertain you."

Alfie watched as Tommy came up beside you, all ease and familiarity as if it was instinct. His suit was crisp, every corner of his appearance perfect and every bit a politician, down to the fake turn of his lips. His fingers played with the fabric against the small of your back and goosebumps covered your skin as he talked with the increasingly agitated man in front of you.

"What do you mean she's in charge of your shipping business?" Alfie's voice had clipped, his games falling aside as his shock got the better of him. 

"Exactly what he said," you smiled. "If you would like a piece of our shipping gin -- and possibly your rum -- to the Americas, you'll need to speak to me."

"Ah," Alfie said, tongue circling an eye tooth as he reassessed you in Tommy's arms. "So the soldier had become a general herself."

"More like a queen," Tommy said, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he pulled you into his side. 

"Wouldn't the charity be better business for a woman to run?" Alfie frowned, squinting between you both. 

"Lizzie is running the charity," you supplied, your fingers running along Tommy's arm that stretched along your middle. "We're a modern company, Mr. Solomons. Multiple women can run multiple pieces."

"I was hoping to introduce you two, make the transition smoother," Tommy said as his jaw ticked. "But you seem to have shot straight for (Y/N) before I could."

"We've met, we did," Alfie said as he twisted his beard in his hand. "Had a nice little discussion all those years ago, didn't we pet? Thought it only proper to give her a hello while you were busy."

Tommy's face was blank, his eyes half lidded as if bored. If anyone could shut Alfie Solomons' erratic energy down, it was Tommy Shelby and his nature of being completely still. Looking between the men was like looking between fire and ice. Both were dangerous, conniving, and ambitious to a fault. 

Alfie was loud, erratic, constantly flipping moods, expressions, energies, to keep everyone around him on their toes. You never knew when he would strike because he constantly tapped on walls for weaknesses. By the time he had done what he wished, no one flinched because it was old hat. You couldn't tell whick way was up or down by the time Alfie was done with you.

Tommy, on the other hand, preferred to be still, watchful, quiet. People often would see his blank face and -- unable to read an expression -- take whatever he said as truth. He would hold himself still until everyone forgot he was there and when he would strike there would be nothing but astonishment and dust in his wake. He was a ghost.

Tommy licked his lips, letting the air thicken between them before he unwrapped himself from your waist and took your hand. You placed your drink on a nearby table. His eyes instantly warmed as they left Alfie to look you up and down. 

"Do you like this dress, Alfie?" Tommy asked as he twirled you slowly in front of the man, letting the long red fabric frame you. "I picked it out myself. I believe it's from Paris, right love?"

Alfie grunted, looking between you and Tommy with suspicion.

"It is," you said evenly, allowing him to spin you in front of the man like he was showing off a jewel in the light. 

"Your taste has always been rich, Tom," Alfie squinted. "No doubt about that."

"It's made from a very fine silk, I believe," Tommy went on, ignoring the comment, his eyes dancing between your figure and Alfie's confused face.

"The thing about it is the cut," he went on, leaning toward Alfie as if conspiring. "My beautiful wife can't wear undergarments with it. Low back, that slit up the side, how the dress flows over her more like water than fabric. Very unfortunate, don't you think?" 

Alfie's eyes widened as he eyed your body even closer. He reddened slightly as he finally made his way to your face to see your eyebrow cocked at him daringly, the smallest curl of your lips a mix of a snarl and a smile.

"Very unfortunate, indeed," Alfie mumbled. "Why are you telling me this, Tom?"

"Oh no reason at all," Tommy tilted his head and winked as he pulled you closer to him, his hand dropping yours to rest splayed on your hip.

"You're going to dance with my wife, Alfie, while I grab a smoke," Tommy said, the edge to his voice sharper than his locked jaw. "And you'll figure out the conditions for our joint alcohol smuggling effort during that dance."

Tommy's blue eyes burrowed into Alfie as he waited for an answer. Alfie nodded slowly and extended his hand toward you, a grimace on his face as you dipped your head and accepted his hand. His hand extended yours out as his other rested on your waist, flitting over your skin rather than holding. He was nervous like a clumsy child that was told to set the table with fine china tonight.

"Oh, and Alfie," Tommy called before Alfie could pull you too far away. You both looked back at him, but only you had a sparkle of mischief in your eye.

"She might cut you if your hands wander," Tommy said, his eyebrows raised as his chin and voice sank. "I'll shoot you in the fuckin' face."

You exhaled a sharp laugh as Alfie's hand on your waist all but hovered above you, his face white as a sheet as he pulled you away from your husband. Tommy gave a nod and moved within the crowd, finding a place next to Polly for a moment. You looked around the room for a moment before reading your eyes back to the uncomfortable man in front of you.

"I will, you know," you smiled as his mouth quirked. "Cut you."

"With what blade in that dress?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," you said.

Alfie grunted and looked over your shoulder, no doubt looking for the positions of the Shelbys.

"Stop being grumpy, it's lame," you laughed as you rubbed his shoulder. "We have business to agree upon."

"Easy for you to say, pet," he mumbled. "Didn't realize I would be holding a bomb to me chest tonight over business."

"Isn't that the only way to do business?" You frowned. "I even wore red to alert you. I thought you knew better."

"Fuckin' should've," he breathed. "Alright, now, let's get to it then."

----

As the song ended, you and Alfie had agreed on a preliminary run of a limited amount of his rum going in your next shipment to America. If the numbers and shipment went well, you would ramp up within a fortnight. 

"May I have this dance?" Tommy appeared, his hand outstretched and pushing the two of you away from each other. 

"I believe we have amenable terms for now," Alfie bowed his head as he kissed your hand, in much better spirits than when the dance began. "I will leave my favorite cutthroats to go forth and ruin someone else's night with their fuckery. I do believe I need to return home and wash the sin from my clothes before it stains."

"Goodnight, Alfie," you said warmly as he easily transferred you to Tommy's side. "Safe travels home."

"Goodnight," Tommy said, all edge of his voice gone as his attention was only on you, his mouth dipped to kiss your shoulder. 

Alfie looked between you two and exhaled a soft laugh before he turned away, shaking his head. 

"Are we going to dance before you leave me to Polly to be yelled at, or was that just a way to cut short my time with your ally?" You murmured as his hand tickled your back. 

"I can dance," he said as he kissed your neck and swept you into his arms. 

You giggled as his hot breath tickled your ear and he pulled you across the hall. 

"So Polly is unhappy with me," you laughed as you pulled back to look him in the eye. 

Tommy sighed. 

"You threatened to make a scene, love," he said as his eyes softened. "With Alfie of all people."

"I think she's more upset about the half a glass of whiskey I had than dealing with Alfie," you said, earning a confused look from Tommy. "Alfie was only trying to make me uncomfortable."

"You didn't flinch a bit," Tommy toned. 

"Oh! You're jealous," you gasped. "Did Alfie Solomons upset my dear husband, king Tommy?"

"No one's to touch my wife but me," he said, roughly tugging you to the other side of a pillar as he pressed you against it in the shadow. 

He lifted your chin with his finger as his knee pressed between your legs and his other hand found its way into the slit of your dress and squeezed your ass. 

"Will you take me right here, Mr. Politician," you taunted, grinding a little against his knee as his eyes caught flame. "Need to prove your claim that boldly? Not enough to dangle me in front of your colleagues?"

"You're bored of the parties," he said as his head tilted and his hand wrapped around your throat, holding you against the pillar. "You aren't made for the pleasantries of the light."

"I'd much rather us in the dark," you tipped your chin up, your hands roaming up his chest and neck to pull him close.

"I hear you," he panted as your foreheads touched. You teased, your breath on his lips as you kept just out of reach. "But tonight is about what's best for this family."

"I agree," you smirked. "Our little one deserves a good life."

Tommy's mouth slacked and his hand dropped from your throat as you chuckled. 

"S'why Polly's upset," you whispered into his open mouth. "The whiskey. She called it last week. John was in the kitchen. Why do you think your little brother had grown so protective over me again?"

You smiled, taunting as he stood frozen.

"Did you fear he was trying to claim me again?" Your hand traced his jaw before you closed his mouth. "I'm yours, Tommy Shelby, just like this child is."

"Well, Mrs. Shelby," his voice was hoarse as he pushed the words out, shoveling them like gravel. He cleared his throat as he licked his lips. "Perhaps we should retire for the night."

"And leave your fundraiser?" You asked, your brows raised. 

It was not like him not to be the last one in the ballroom, talking to every last person as if to stuff his pockets with every cent and favor he could. You bit your lip as you watched the gears turn behind his soft eyes. He had completely melted against you. 

"My poor pregnant wife must be exhausted from the stress of the night," he said evenly, his hand tickling your thigh. "And what sort of man would I be if not to take care of her?"

"What sort, indeed," you smiled as you kissed him softly.

[strawberrylemonz]

Disc(o) Boy

Part 4

Part 5 [CURRENT]

Part 6

DT: @bargledblocks @snapdragonfirefly @artistconk

“Chat, I’ve been thinking-”

“That’s not good.”

“Fuck you! You know what? I’m not telling you what I was going to tell you-! Oh, look at the sunset.”

Chat clucked and chuckled as Tommy pulled out his camera, snapping a photo. Humming as he waited for it to develop, he nodded to his voices.

“Can’t wait until I can get a new camera, one that can record, too! Don’t get me wrong, the camcorder dad left behind works well, but it’s becoming a hassle, innit?”

The sound of disembodied voices harmonizing agreed with the child, watching as he put away the photo, swapping it with his water bucket. Jumping off the side of his cliff, he hummed as he landed perfectly, avoiding damage.

“Poggers.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile at his youngest son, watching as he conversed with his voices in a friendly manner. He was certainly skilled at mediating his voices, not letting them annoy him and corrupt his thoughts with their sometimes questionable suggestions. He watched as his boy collected seeds, changing course to collect skeleton bones. Before anyone knew it, tiny Tommy began obsessed with trying to use a creeper to get a disc.

Tubbo almost laughed as he watched his best friend scurry around, worry-free as he tried so hard to get a disc, determined to succeed. It was nearly sunrise when Tommy finally loosened his grip on his quest.

“I’ll read your “subs” in a minute, I need to try and kill a creeper with a skeleton. You know what? No. I’ve got my bones, that’s all I needed.”

The group was almost baffled with how tiny Tommy and his voices easily decided to drop the disc quest. Tommy’s precious discs were so close to never being discovered. 

“Quick! Before you die!”

Tommy navigated through the plains, avoiding arrows and zombies as he did so. His bright blue eyes, shining with adventure and joy, widened the moment he saw the arrow kill the creeper. Cheering alongside his chat, he scurried over to put the disc, examining it. Quickly stuffing it in his inventory, he happily ran away from the mobs as he made his way back to his house, full of excitement.

“And so it begins, the beginning of the end.”

“The kid was excited to get his very own disc. I don’t understand how a kid enjoying something he worked hard to get led to all of this.”

“Because he decided that those stupid things are worth more than people! Do you know how many things we’ve lost because of them? How many canon lives were wasted because he can’t let go of them?”

“He’s a kid, Jack. He shouldn’t even have to make such a stupid decision at such an age! No one should make that decision, so stop putting this all on my son!”

Jack huffed as he crossed his arms, biting back a comeback at the sight of both Philza and Kristin’s expressions. Sharing a look with Niki, he shook his head as he turned to face the small child he despised.

-

Ponk smiled at the memory, amused to see the young Tommy he had met so long ago. He watched as the child grumbled to the regular chickens and his Chat, leading the regular chickens back into their pen. He remembered the simple times he had with Tommy when the boy first joined. He remembered the quarrels they had as they bordered each other. He also remembered the moments of peace the two had in their own little corner, how he’d sit against the base of his tree, listening to the discs that Tommy would put on from his side of the fence. He didn’t care much for kids, but Tommy was some form of a companion in their little corner. Letting out a snort, he shook his head as Tommy half-heartedly dissed him to his Chat, a passive-aggressive tone when Chat mentioned that they enjoyed Ponk’s voice. He didn’t even realize that missed the kid’s company until now.

-

“What is that growling?”

The group watched as Tommy dug into the hill, searching for the source of the undead groans. Amusement filled Sam as he watched Tommy shrugged it off, deciding to head back to his home. It wasn’t until the vast amount of clucking and moans that Tommy realized what he had come across.

“A spawner? Do you reckon?”

The boy dug into the cobblestone, excitement and pride filling him as he saw the zombie spawner. Running about in joy, he finally composed himself long enough to secure it. After he was done, he happily made his way to the chest.

“Oh, what’s in the chest? What’s in the chest-”

Tommy froze for a moment, but only a moment, before breaking out in cheers. Doing laps around the small room, he paid no mind to his cheering Chat. Laughing, he pulled out his latest find, a disc. Running his hands over its surface, he smiled as he recognized it in an instant.

“Cat! Oh, I definitely need that diamond now!”

-

“Where do you want to listen to the music? Here?”

Tubbo smiled as he watched his younger self walk around with Tommy, joyful. Both boys were content, not yet in the hands of unfit responsibilities. No trauma, no wars, no exile, just Tommy and Tubbo.

“I’ll make us some chairs, one sec.”

The group watched as the younger boy scurried to craft chairs, his best friend waiting as they spoke.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following, I’m just watching. You’ve made us some chairs, this is nice.”

“Do you want our chairs next to each other or one block apart?”

“Uh-”

“I’ll just make us a bench.”

“Yeah, a bench.”

Tubbo and Tommy both sat down on either side of the bench, leaving room for each other to feel comfortable. Humming, Tommy set down the music box, opening up his inventory to grab a disc.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start with-”

-

“I like the sound of this one!”

Wilbur froze at the voice, eyes widening. He ignored Ghostbur’s squeals of joy, spewing ‘awws’ and ‘how adorable!’ every chance he got. Clenching his fists, he glared at his father and brother as they perked up, eager to see a memory not familiar to them.

“You like the sound of all of them, you cheeky little gremlin.”

“Wilby! Take that back! I’m a big man!”

Wilbur smiled as sat on the couch, peering over to watch as his six-year old brother watched the disc rotate. Tommy had always loved music, always eager to listen to Wilbur play his guitar. He used to watch Technoblade play his violin, that was, until Techno dropped the hobby. Humming along to the tune, he nodded to his older brother.

“Yeah, this one. Hey, Wilbah?”

“What’s up, Toms?”

“Is it okay if I learn how to play music?”

Philza perked up at this. Music? Did Tommy learn to play music?

Wilbur feigned being in deep thought, before smiling as he tickled the boy seated next to him. Tommy giggled and squealed as he squirmed out of his brother’s grasp. Smiling, Tommy playfully stuck his tongue out at his brother, making the older boy roll his eyes. Standing up from the couch, Wilbur stopped the disc and put it back in its sleeve, much to Tommy’s disappointment. Biting his lip, he made up his mind when he held the packaged disc to Tommy. Tommy gently accepted it, eyes sparkling as he followed his brother to the front of the music shop. He watched as Wilbur paid for the disc, thanking the employee before leading Tommy out. Tommy was practically radiating with joy at this point. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not a problem, Tommy.”

“Oh, I can’t wait until Dad and Techie come home tomorrow so that I can show them my new disc!”

Wilbur froze, furrowing his eyebrows as Tommy bumped into his legs. Sighing, he bent down to face his brother.

Quackity let out a nervous laugh as he pulled Karl and Sapnap close, enjoying being between the two.

“I know that look, it’s the bad news express.”

“Listen, Toms, I know you were looking forward to having those two spend the day with us tomorrow, but that’s not happening. I just got a letter from them that said that they’ll be gone longer this time.”

“Wha- but that’s not fair! It’s my birthday tomorrow! You only turn seven once, you know. They promised me!”

“I know, Tommy, I know. Oh, come here.”

Tommy bit back tears as he accepted his older brother’s embrace. Sniffing, wiped some tears away as he tried not to sob.

“They promised me, Wilbah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? ‘S not your fault. I love you, Wilby”

“I love you more, Toms.”

Wilbur smiled as he ruffled his brother’s hair. Giving a small smile, he nodded as he motioned for him to follow. 

“Come on, now. We still have your birthday party to look forward to! Besides, don’t you wanna show our new neighbors your disc?”

“Yeah! Tubbo’s gonna love it!”

Letting Wilbur carry him back to their little home on the outskirts of town, Tommy smiled as he traced his fingers along the pattern of the packaged disc. Nodding, he laid his head against his brother as he spoke up once more.

“Wilbah? What’s the name of this song?”

“Hm? Oh, that song is called-”

-

“-Cat.”

Silence filled the group as they turned to face the Minecraft family. Phil refused to face his sons or his wife, opting to stare at his hands. Techno kept his eyes closed, refusing to open them. Whether it was to put up a front or to be alone with his thoughts, no one knew. Wilbur and Ghostbur just stared ahead, the image of their younger brother being so small stuck in their heads. Kristin just wished that one of them would look at her. She opened her mouth to address her family, but she was beaten to it.

“You just...left them. Why?”

Phil pressed his lips together as he turned to make eye contact with Puffy, taking note of the anger in her eyes.

“I did what I thought was best at the time. It was for their own good.”

A scoff escaped from her throat as she shook her head. Puffy stood up, prepared to scold the man, only to be cut off by Tubbo.

“He waited every day for you two. He’d collect items and write down his fun moments so that he could share with you two. Tell me, Philza, Techno, when was the last time you spent a birthday with Tommy?”

They couldn’t answer him. They genuinely couldn’t remember, and that was something Tubbo already knew. They could only stay silent, could only think.

Tubbo smiled as he leaned back in his seat, humming as he watched the sky. Peering over at Tommy, he was pleased to see the relaxed and content expression that painted his friend’s face. Tommy hummed as he faced Tubbo, a genuine smile dancing on his lips. The volume of Chat themselves died down, mumbles and whispers exchanged as the voices enjoyed the tune. Turning back to face the sky, Tubbo nodded as he spoke up.

“This is nice.”

It was peaceful, beautiful even. Pure bliss and peace filled everyone as Tommy’s content feeling flooded into them, reminding them of their connection. This time was different, however. This time, they didn’t mind sharing such lovely feelings with the young boy. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and it was all thanks to the bond that was shared between two best friends. In that very moment, everything was perfect.

“All jokes aside, what actually is a fetish?”

[pparkerpoetry]

Heart of Gears and Gold

Summary: "Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long."

-or-

Nook wasn't made with a heart or the capacity to love, but he does it anyway.

Tommy goes missing, they tell him that it's a vacation.

Sam Nook needs to know the truth.

____________

i made this yesterday but i forgot to post it here, so...

___________

Sam Nook was the result of redbull and the determination to be better on a Friday night as Awesamdude fought off the remnants of a hangover. He hadn’t even been named, really, and had been sitting in a corner growing cobwebs since he’d been made. Awesamdude had intended for him to stay there, because what was the need for a little robot pal in a land where fires raged and wars were waged every other month, at best? No, the world was a cruel one, and it was no place for Sam Nook. 

The cobwebs were dusted away one day, long after his creation. Or so it seemed. Time passed slowly when Nook spent his days in the dark of a closet. 

Nook wasn’t sure why he’d been put into use, initially, but Sam had the habit of talking while he worked on improving and upgrading his body. Nook was meant to help a child named Tommy, who Sam spoke of very fondly. The days in the workshop passed and Nook learned about the child.

Tommy didn’t have a good past, Nook discovered. He’d been raised on fields of blood and taught how to fight instead of which manners to use when. He’d been given a sword instead of a toy and told to survive instead of learning how to grow and to cope. Tommy was made of iron and steel, and though Nook knew it was all metaphorical, he couldn’t help but feel happy that there was someone like him.

Sam was nice. Sam just didn’t know how much of a genius he was, and since he had no clue that his robot was aware, instead of being truly able to speak, Nook was trapped in a little metal cage, stuck and still. 

The day that Nook was given a voice? 

He wouldn’t stop using it. It wasn’t a human voice, but it was unique. He liked it. It was his own, and Nook liked having something for himself. It wasn’t long before Sam sent him off to monitor Tommy’s healing, his recovering, his lessons on responsibility.

Nook had been given a voice, but he had never been given a heart. So why was it that he cared so much? He wasn’t sure. But he liked Tommy. Tommy was conflicted, and hurt, and Nook knew how gentle to be so that Tommy would trust him but wouldn’t take advantage of him. He wasn’t quite able to fathom the power he held, being so close to Tommy, but he knew that if that power had fallen into the wrong hands another time, Nook never would have been improved. What need is there for a babysitter when there is no baby?

He didn’t like thinking about death. It was one of the things he was confused about, and though many things fell under that category, Nook didn’t like death. Tommy spoke of death sometimes. Of his older brother who wasn’t really his brother, but it felt like it, because we were really close and always had each other’s backs- Nook thought that Tommy’s words were an awfully long way to say that he was still grieving. He didn’t mind. His job was to help Tommy, not to fix someone that didn’t need fixing, but support.

Tommy spoke of death a lot. It wasn’t always about Wilbur (Nook learned at one point that Wilbur was the name of the older brother. He thought it was Technoblade, but when he mentioned it to Sam, Sam had said Technoblade was still alive. How many brothers did Tommy have?), and Nook liked death even less when Tommy spoke about death in relation to himself. Nook didn’t want to think of Tommy dead. Tommy was his friend, and he would always be there for Tommy. Wasn’t that enough?

Of course, Nook knew that there was more than the simple life that he led. He never had to sleep, he just sat on his charging station overnight while he waited for the sun and for the child that always bounded up the hill as soon as the light hit the land, eyes dull and face sunken. Tommy had his bad days, so Nook always kept easier tasks on the side to give him. 

Oh, the chest needs organizing. Oh, the hotel needs an infinite water source. Oh-

Tommy never caught on. Nook made sure of it, and although there was one bad day that he’d given Tommy a real task (I need hearts of the sea-), he made sure to be careful with the teen. No loud noises, no sudden movements, no being over-top-nice. Tommy had triggers. He’d asked Sam once why Tommy was so jumpy, but Sam’s eyes had turned dark and he had left. Nook didn’t ask anymore, but he figured it had something to do with the prisoner contained in the prison that loomed ominously in the distance. 

The prison made Nook uneasy.

Days had passed by, and he grew more protective of Tommy. He wasn’t supposed to. Nook’s whole existence was to help Tommy, yes, but not to this extent. Once or twice Nook wondered if he was becoming more alive, but he didn’t want to think about it. Humanity hurt, and he had heard tales of pain more than anything. Nightmares that plagued their minds, or the injuries that they did to each other-

Jack Manifold was someone to be wary around. He’d tried to kill Tommy a few times, and though he was skilled in playing it off as a joke, Nook didn’t miss the fury that burned behind the multi-colored sunglasses. 

Badboyhalo was another on Nook’s mental list of… enemies? No, that wasn’t the right word. What was the right word? Maybe he’d ask Sam. Or Tommy. But Tommy said Jack was a friend, so what was his opinion on Bad? 

Nook had learned that Bad was on the side of the crimson vines that edged their way onto the property. Nook wasn’t programmed to show fear, but he wasn’t created with a capacity for love, either. 

The egg scared him.

As much as he hated to admit it, the egg terrified him. It got Bad into places he shouldn’t have been able to. 

Puffy was a good one, though. Nook liked her smile. She was always nice to Tommy and while she wasn’t as good at hiding her pain as she thought, she helped others. Nook didn’t know what had happened to make her so sad, but everyone was sad those days. Puffy, Nook decided, would get a discount if she ever bought a room at the Big Innit Hotel.

Nook’s days were simple. In the mornings, he’d get off of his charging station and head to the hotel, getting a few hours of building in without Sam if he finished charging early enough. Some days, Tommy would come running after that, other days he’d walk, others he didn’t show at all. Nook didn’t like the days that passed by without the familiar mop of blond hair and the loud swears that he had to hide a laugh at. 

Tommy made Nook feel alive, and some days, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

After Sam and himself finished the hotel, Nook had been excited. Tommy had been looking forward to this for ages, and he hoped that it was good enough.

Nook didn’t like the feeling of doubt that wormed its way through his gears. He hadn’t been programmed to doubt anything, he reminded himself, and code didn’t lie. Humans lied.

One morning, Nook was just loitering around the hotel, since he’d had a lot of free time since the build had been completed. He’d been without purpose before, but this was different. He could do whatever he wanted, but he just wanted to help Tommy. There was still a lot of healing to do.

Speak of the devil, Tommy came sprinting up to where Nook stood. “I thought I’d find you here, Big Man!” Tommy grinned. “I just wanted to say hi before I go to the prison.”

Nook turned quickly. HELLO TOMMYINNIT. I WOULD NOT RECOMMEND GOING TO THE PRISON. I DO NOT LIKE IT.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You never liked it. Just one last time, alright? Then I can catch a break, and I dunno, maybe I’ll take a vacation.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? I’ve never had a vacation before. I’d probably just wake up and think I got exiled again.”

YOU MAY GO IF YOU WISH, Nook nodded anxiously, BUT I WISH YOU WOULDN’T. IT MAKES ME UNEASY.

Tommy snorted and started walking away. He waved, and was still smiling. Nook thought he looked almost like a kid again, not some soldier who was tired of life. “Bye, Nook! I’ll catch you later!”

Sam didn’t show up that day to monitor the hotel, nor the next day, so Nook took that to mean that the job was over. He was almost sad, but he caught himself. He hadn’t been made to be sad. Only to help.

Nook tried to find Tommy, but he wasn’t at his house, which he thought was a little odd, but he didn’t mind. Maybe today would finally be the day he got to listen and observe the birds. They were peculiar creatures, birds were. 

He hadn’t meant to spend all day and all night watching the birds, but once he saw them, he’d wandered to a nearby stream to look at the fish, then to the little cricket that had been hopping around…

When he got back to the hotel, for he hadn’t gotten Sam to move his charging station and he was very, very low, the large sign he’d put up was taken down, and another took its place. He couldn’t read what it said, but he didn’t have time to look at it yet. He figured it was just something Tommy put up, so he went to charge.

The next morning, he saw the name, clear and bold. JACK MANIFOLD, he muttered, YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU TAMPERED WITH THE HOTEL.

Sure, Tommy had mentioned a few days ago that he wanted to hire Jack, but this was too far.

“Oh, hey, Sam Nook.” Jack himself stood by the entrance. “Hope you don’t mind the rebranding. I’m taking over while Tommy’s, uh, on vacation.”

Nook wanted to yell, but he remembered the kind greeting that he was confined to. HELLO, JACK MANIFOLD. I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL,- he didn’t wait for a response -BUT YES, I DO MIND THE REBRANDING. WHEN TOMMY RETURNS FROM HIS VACATION, IF THAT IS WHERE HE IS, THEN HE WILL BE VERY DISPLEASED.

He didn’t understand why he felt so angry at Jack, so Nook replaced the sign and took another day off. Sam still hadn’t showed up, so he took a journey to the portal that Tommy had told him about. It shone brightly, and he liked it, but he didn’t dare pass through. Not without someone by his side. 

Time passed quicker than he realized, and before he knew it, the purple sheen darkened with the shadows of night. Nook didn’t want to go back yet, so he stayed out. He walked to where he’d heard a new member had settled down, and he liked the flowers there. He stayed there for a while.

When he woke up, Nook was at his charging station. There was a sign that told him he’d shut down while in the flower field, so someone carried him back. No signature was on the note, but when he journeyed up to the hotel, he had an inkling of an idea.

There were more signs. The large one, advertising the hotel, was different, hand-drawn, but Nook wasn’t mad about that. Apparently, Jack had changed it before Puffy put it back. Nook decided that if Puffy ever got into trouble, he’d defend her. She was one of the good ones on this server of murderers and authorities. 

Jack showed his face again.

HELLO JACK MANIFOLD, Nook greeted. I REALLY WISH YOU WOULD STOP CHANGING THE APPEARANCE OF THE BIG INNIT HOTEL SIGN. TOMMY WON’T BE PLEASED, WHEN HE RETURNS, AND I SHOULD LIKE YOU TO REMAIN AN EMPLOYEE.

Nook brushed over the fact that he’d told his first lie. Jack called for more attention- he looked cheerful, but not completely so, if was a conflicted cheerfulness. Today was not the day to antagonize him, Nook decided. He was hurting. Why? Nook wasn’t sure.

I AM GOING TO LEAVE, Nook announced, AND WHEN I COME BACK, I WANT THE SIGN TO BE THE SAME.

Jack didn’t respond.

Nook spent the day exploring, just wandering, and he couldn’t shake the loss that he felt. He wasn’t lost, though. He knew where he was. 

It was late before he remembered to go back before his battery died somewhere no one would find him, but as Nook walked back, Puffy was burning a part of the path.

HELLO CAPTAIN PUFFY! He smiled. Today had been a good day. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?

When she turned to respond, her eyes were red. Something was wrong. “Hey, Nook.” She said blankly, watching the flames as her eyes welled up with tears.

WHY ARE YOU CRYING? He questioned. HAS BADBOYHALO UPSET YOU? SHOULD I TAKE CARE OF HIM FOR YOU?

Puffy chuckled, but there was no feeling behind it. “No, Nook. Bad’s fine for now. I’ll deal with him later.”

SO HE HAS UPSET YOU? Nook tilted his head. THEN WHY BURN THE PATH? I AM SORRY, BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

“That’s fine. You should probably head back, though. Don’t let your battery run out.” Puffy sniffled as she wiped her sleeve across her nose.

Nook made a soft sound. IF YOU EVER NEED A BREAK, FEEL FREE TO STOP BY THE BIG INNIT HOTEL. DON’T TELL TOMMY, BUT I INTEND TO GIVE YOU A SIGNIFICANT DISCOUNT. YOU DESERVE IT, CAPTAIN PUFFY.

It hadn’t been the right thing to say. She started crying harder, so Nook left her to mourn whatever had happened. It wasn’t his place to pry.

Weird things kept happening. Quackity had visited that night, too, but Jack pulled him away from hotel property to chat. And then the next day, more people stopped by the Hotel. They didn’t buy a room, though. They just stared. Some in pity, at him, but mostly in sadness.

A rival inn had popped up, and Nook was excited. He’d be able to convince Tommy to get upgrades easier this way, now. Tommy just had to get back. He missed Tommy.

Sam visited, finally. Nook noticed the devastated look on his face, but it was common those days. He wondered if there had been another war he didn’t know about.

HELLO, AWESAMDUDE! DO YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON WHEN TOMMY RETURNS? Nook asked eagerly. I WISH TO BEGIN UPGRADES SOON.

Sam looked like he might cry. “No, Nook, Tommy, uh-” He paused, as if changing what he was going to say. “No, He said he was going to be gone a while, though. You might want to start upgrades by yourself. I’ve got prison business to deal with.”

Nook remembered his conversation with Tommy. DID TOMMY HAVE A GOOD VISIT AT THE PRISON? HE TOLD ME HE WAS GOING, BUT HE DIDN’T MENTION HIS VACATION. 

As if distracted, Sam hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. The visit went okay.”

DREAM PLAYED NICE? He asked, just to make sure (ah, yes, his favorite discovery of recent days. Dream was the one in the prison, the one responsible for Tommy’s sorrow).

Sam froze. “I gotta go, Nook, I might be by later, but don’t count on it. And- yeah,” he hid a sob, “Dream played nice.”

Nook had the feeling that Sam was hiding something from him. And so began a new feeling for the android: Hurt.

He tried to notice things more, but eventually, it was staring him in the face. Like when he went inside of the hotel the next night to find Badboyhalo and his egg group having a party. Puffy was with him, and she began yelling at them, but Nook took over. He drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t that much, but he was still taller than everyone in the room.

BADBOYHALO, he thundered, and he wasn’t used to speaking so loudly. I EXPECT YOU HAVE GOOD REASON TO BE HERE, OR I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and he summoned the most fearsome look he could manage.

The demon paused before speaking. Everyone had been, when speaking to him. He wanted to know why, but this wasn’t the right moment. “Hey, Nook. Yeah, we were just… celebrating.”

CELEBRATING WHAT, EXACTLY?

“Oh. Well, it’s Jack’s birthday! We figured that Jack was Tommy’s friend so he wouldn’t mind us having a party here.”

Nook didn’t mention that Jack wasn’t even there. He didn’t mention how confused he was, or how much he wanted to know what was going on, but he made sure they left. He wished Jack a happy birthday when he walked by, but Jack had just given him a puzzled look.

Nook added it to the growing list of things that people were hiding things from him. His list of people he trusted was growing thinner.

It didn’t take long for him to discover why. 

He’d been walking back to the hotel, just to check if Tommy had gotten back, when distantly, he heard Sam and Ranboo talking. Ranboo was a peculiar subject, Nook had decided. He was also conflicted, and always showed signs of regret whenever he spoke of Tommy with Nook.  Nook wasn’t quite sure why, but he’d find out soon enough.

Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long.

He was doing the right thing.

Sam sounded near tears, even though it was clear he’d just been sobbing. “I couldn’t stop it, Ranboo. He just, I got into the cell and he was just laughing, I was yelling at him and he was just laughing, in my face-”

“He was laughing?” Ranboo whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And then- oh, god. I had to carry his body out of the cell, and his eyes just stared at me. They stared at me, and he was so quiet,” Sam covered his mouth to hide another sob, “And the blood, the blood got everywhere-”

Nook’s eyes widened. Someone had died in the prison? Who?

“There was no way you could have let him out?” Ranboo asked, but Nook knew that his anger was gone, replaced with the cold emptiness that hope left when it disappeared. 

“No, Ranboo,” Sam whispered. “Because if Dream had held him on that bridge, threatening his life if he wasn’t let out, then I wouldn’t have had a choice. I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave him in the cell. I’d have freed Dream.”

Nook thought for a moment. Who did Sam love enough to let Dream out for? He didn’t like any of the options on the list. 

Sam continued. “And the worst part of it- The worst part is that every time I see Nook, I have to act as if Tommy’s still alive and having a great time, I have to act as if it wasn’t my fault that Tommy is dead, I have to act as if Tommy’s dead eyes don’t haunt me every time I try to sleep because I coded him to be loyal to Tommy and I don’t what he’ll do if he discovers he’s gone.”

What?

Nook left. He didn’t want to hear this conversation. It wasn’t true, was it? It couldn’t be.

It made a lot of sense.

Nook went to his charging station, and when he opened his eyes the next morning, everything seemed a little duller.

Puffy was out, and Nook couldn’t help but feel hurt that yes, even she had hid this from him. Or maybe not. He didn’t know if it was true.

What was she- oh. She was building a memorial. It was cobblestone, of course, with a picture of a disc in the middle. 

Who Are You Building That For? Nook asked, and was surprised to hear his voice sound…

“Whoa, Nook, are you okay?” Puffy asked. Her eyes hadn’t gotten any less red, “You sound sad.”

Who? Nook asked, even though he already knew the answer. Who Died, Puffy? You Wouldn’t Lie, Right?

“Nook,” Puffy sighed, but he interrupted.

why didn’t you tell me that dream killed tommy? Nook asked, his high pitched voice now soft and quiet. 

“Sam-”

Sam Wasn’t Sure I Could Be Trusted. Nook shrugged. He couldn’t be bothered to defend himself when all that he felt was frustration. He was coded to build and protect, but damn if he didn’t want to destroy the entire server.

He walked away, pretending not to hear Puffy calling out for him.

Mechanically, (he almost laughed at that thought. Mechanical- he was.) he began to tear down the Big Innit Hotel. Why? Well-

“Nook?” Sam shouted from below the hotel. His voice cracked. “Are you alright?”

Nook went down to the first floor. He was already a pretty good way into the hotel dismantling. HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. He said coldly, almost liking the way Sam flinched away. WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE, TODAY?

Sam sighed, but his breath was unsteady. “So, you found out. Are you okay?”

I AM ANGRY, Nook said simply. THAT SUCH A YOUNG LIFE WAS TAKEN. I AM ANGRY THAT DREAM STILL LIVES.

“Well, I can’t just-”

KILL HIM? Nook asked. Taunted, almost. WHY NOT? WHAT’S STOPPING YOU? OR ME? TELL ME, SAM, WHAT IS STOPPING ME FROM GOING AGAINST MY CODING COMPLETELY? PUFFY IS BARGAINING, YOU LET IT SADDEN YOU, TUBBO MAY STILL BE IN DENIAL BY PUSHING HIMSELF BACK INTO LOGIC AND RANBOO MAY HAVE ACCEPTED IT, BUT TELL ME, AWESAMDUDE, WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS SO ANGRY THAT I DOUBT IT IS POSSIBLE TO CALM ME DOWN? WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN MY ANGER IF I TORE DOWN THIS ENTIRE HOTEL, THEN TOOK THE SERVER WITH IT? MAKE NO MISTAKE, SAM, I AM NOT GOING AGAINST ALL THAT YOU CREATED ME TO BE. I AM LOYAL TO TOMMY FIRST AND FOREMOST, SO TELL ME, WHAT AM I, NOW THAT HE’S GONE?

Sam didn’t answer. Nook could tell he was crying, but he couldn’t feel anything except rage.

I AM FREE, Nook yelled, and his voice shook. I AM FREE OF THE ATTACHMENT THAT KEPT ME DOCILE. I AM FREE OF EVERYTHING THAT I LIVED FOR, SO WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, SAM? TELL ME, BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW.

Sam looked at him. He looked just about as lost as Nook felt. “I- I don’t know, Nook. You weren’t the only one that lost him, but… I think I could let you visit Dream, if you… if you want to yell at him, or something. I owe it to you.”

Nook deflated. YOU DO NOT OWE ME, AWESAMDUDE. YOU HAVE GIFTED ME WITH LIFE, BUT IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH IT, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE DREAM. I PROMISE I WON’T KILL HIM TOO MUCH.

Sam managed a weak smile at the joke. “I know you’ll try your best. If you do, though, I won’t be that choked up.”

___________

Nook liked the look of fear on Dream’s face. He wasn’t supposed to- he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to care, he was supposed to do all of the things that he had done when Tommy was alive, but then, in that moment,

He wanted blood.

By all means, it should have been comical, he knew what his voice sounded like, but Dream looked terrified, and it wasn’t an act. Nook would know, he’s spent his entire life deciphering whatever Tommy was hiding. No, Dream is scared, and he is scared to show it.

Nook latches onto that uncertainty.

you killed him, Nook growls. This has been going on for a while. you killed him and i want nothing more than to make you pay.

Dream shouldn’t have been so affected by the yelling, but a quote from his mother echoed in his brain.

“Be afraid if someone peaceful takes up arms. Being kind is a strength, not a weakness, and should they go against you, you will not win.”

Dream tried to push down the terror rising in him, instead holding onto how bored he was. He wanted something new. “I’ll bring him back! I’ll get the book and I’ll bring him back, if it’s worth so much to you.”

Nook glared at him. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED A BOOK, DREAMWASTAKEN. WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU MADE IT UP. BRING HIM BACK, AND MAYBE I WILL SPARE YOU.

“Sam wouldn’t let you kill me,” Dream tried,  but there was doubt in his mind. He sighed, and lifted a hand.

Just like that, there is another being in the cell. A floating one. Not a ghost, but a god. XD, he was called, and he had the power to do anything.

“Yes?” The god asked, and Dream sighed again. He hated not being in control.

“Bring the kid back.”

“So you can kill him again?” XD asked, unamused, and Nook wonders how many times this has happened before.

NO, Nook objected. SO THAT I CAN STOP THIS SERVER’S MISERY AND BRING BACK THE CHILD THAT DIED TOO YOUNG.

XD hummed. “You’re interesting. What are you? You aren’t quite human, you aren’t quite android. You’re an in-between. Curious.”

IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I AM, JUST WHAT YOU CAN DO. Nook said. ARE YOU GOING TO BRING HIM BACK OR NOT?

And, just like that, there’s Tommy. He’s got a black eye and he’s shaking, like he’s expecting to be killed again, but when he saw Sam Nook he ran.

“Sam Nook?” He whispered, as Nook gathered him into a hug. “Is this real?”

IT’S REAL. Nook reassured. I’M NOT GOING TO LET THEM HURT YOU ANY LONGER. ANY OF THEM.

Sam was already crying, but he started sobbing once Tommy came into sight, murmuring apologies and promises and anything that he can do to show how sorry he is. “I’m sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry,”

Tommy was crying too. Nook could only stand and watch. “It’s okay, big man, really. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The rest of the server got back their hope that day, but Nook? Nook got Tommy, and he got days on the roof of the rebuilt hotel with him, chatting about everything and nothing, and he got emotions, and maybe, throughout it all, as he smiled fondly as Tommy bickered with Ranboo, maybe humanity was worth the pain it brought.

[starofroselight]

Title: He Calls You Theseus (Now Call Him Odysseus and Welcome Him Home)

Chapter 1: In Which Technoblade's Narrative Crumbles    

Summary: Technoblade's language is the art of combat and weaponry. Tommy doesn't understand, so Technoblade speaks in a way they'll both understand. Or, Technoblade’s been having strange visions while taking care of Tommy.

Tags: Technoblade, TommyInnit, SBI fic, Introspection, Flashbacks, Found Family, Brothers, Trauma, Alternate Universe, References to Greek Myth, Sleepy Bois Inc. as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc. Angst, Chat as Ghosts, Rose AU

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786947

Author’s Note: This is my baby. I’ve worked for this on a while, and it’s about 5.1k words. I hope you enjoy the first chapter, I plan for around five in all.

A flurry of snow buffeted the snow banks around Technoblade's retirement home. 

Technoblade had decided teaching Tommy the art of arrow fletching was important. He had come to immediately regret that decision. Tommy’s loud mouth and shaky hands were something manageable in the best of times, but when the time came for work to be done they became hindrances. Liabilities.

Technoblade didn’t take in liabilities. 

“How’s this, big man?” The tooth-gaped teen asked smugly, holding up a shoddily constructed arrow as if it were made of gold.

Technoblade briefly considered how much easier this would have had he cleaved Tommy’s head clean off in the hole under his house.

> You can’t!

> The most efficient way to grind out arrows is village trading. Make one of your downstairs hostages a fletcher, trade sticks, build rapport, then trade in for arrows.

> Tommy pog

> would’ve been funnier if you did

“Chat, do you see what I’m dealing with?” He mumbled to himself. 

“Oi Chat! Hey Chat, do you think Technoblade is a big bitch?”

“Tommy, you’re giving me a headache.” That wasn’t all that was giving him a headache: voices, the thousands of voices which were riled up by his every interaction with another living soul. Each voice was vying for a spot to influence his words, to have any effect on the outside world like they once were able to.

And the voices really liked Tommy.

“All I want’s an answer.”

He wouldn’t get one.

"How am I better at this with hooves?! Here, let me show you one more time.” Techno squatted beside where Tommy was sitting on the stone brick floor. “Two ties on each side over the flint. Three sharp cuts into the wood. Feather goes in between. Look, perfectly functional arrows! What part of this aren’t you getting? It’s not that difficult!”

Tommy picked up the tools from the fletching table. He took one look at the sticks, then picked up a fistful of feathers.

“Right—”

“Okay, that’s enough, I’m not going to let you keep massacring my feathers like this. What even is this?" He picked up a feather from the floor. It hung limp between the heel of his hoof, frayed and torn. "These chickens died for nothing!"

“What am I supposed to do while you do all the work if I can’t help?” Tommy was pouting, his face so full of vibracity and energy it looked as if he was choking.

That was it. Techno's face twitched. 

“Maybe if you sit down and stay quiet for a minute, I can come up with an idea!”

Surprisingly, Tommy did. His face flushed red with embarrassment. 

And Technoblade realized he had screamed at a scared, struggling sixteen year old child covered in scars. 

> do you feel powerful now

> OOOOOOO

> You should kill him

> Betray Tommy!

> betray tommy

He dragged a hoof over his face. The gesture was easier with hands.

"Look. . . Tommy. You're clearly not good at fletching arrows. Why don't you go lay down in your racoon hole?"

Technoblade’s plan had been, surprisingly, one of altruism. He wanted to teach Tommy how to make arrows so he could value the ammunition. He had a tendency to complain about. . . well, everything, but specifically running out of supplies. Techno hoped this would teach him how valuable they were. Not in resources, but as assets. In the heat of battle, every shot mattered.

After Tommy had made a quiverful of arrows, Technoblade planned on taking him out to his practice range. Inexperienced hands nocking an arrow were shaking and quick to flinch. Archery hurt. It was a difficult skill to master; the art of shooting an arrow required the fletching to run through the archer’s fingers. If their hands were smooth and uncalloused, the projectile would cut through their fingers like a blade in water. His hands (and hooves) were roughed up to the consistency of leather from arduous repetition. Tommy hadn’t had that experience.

Technoblade had made leather gloves for that exact reason.

And now that plan was ruined.

While his retirement home was the definition of picturesque, Tommy had come to ruin that as well. The foundation had made Techno's house uneven. The ground was unstable and it had started to sag north. 

Tommy had literally dug up and unsettled his life. 

Somewhere in there was a metaphor and a moment for some much-needed introspection. Technoblade ignored it. 

Snow had sloped onto the roof heavy, the sound of monsters outside crunching feet of the stuff. The cold had choked out the will of any invaders at the cost of isolating them together. The house’s floor was insulated with stone, then covered with wood. The chimney doubled as a source of light, warmth, and a way to heat the floor. Technoblade had learned how to make heated floors from Chat. The quality of life improvement was immense.

Tommy hadn’t understood how, but he did enjoy it. Too often he had slept in his boots, curled up into a jacket or blanket or whatever he could find. But this? This was a luxury that could lull him into a rest like no other.

And Tommy needed a good sleep after Logsteadshire.

Still, his spirit reignited despite his body's protests. He stretched his arms upward in attempts to hide his yawn. 

He stomped his foot. 

"I'm not tired! We need supplies, we need—We need to get back the discs."

That was going to be a hard habit to kick. The kid needed a break; his eyes were ringed in black. He sat hunched over with awful posture, looking pitiful. Technoblade held back the urge to call him a racoon again.

Despite the warmth, Tommy was shivering.

Exhaustion. Techno knew it all too well.

The Piglin man took off his cape, folding it over his arm. It helped increase his bulk, his size when intimidation was necessary. When he was home its purpose became a blatant unnecessity. Still, he often found himself falling asleep in it, curled up in a tiny pile against the wall where no one could hurt him. 

It was important.

And he tossed it to Tommy. 

"We'll get back the discs after you go to sleep. If you fall asleep in the snow you'll freeze to death and die."

Then he stoked the fire with an iron pole, minding Edward's head. He couldn't be bothered to kill the creature just yet. The flames roared up, consuming the cold air in the room and up the chimney. 

Tommy held the crimson cloak in his arms. He stared for a second, then twisted to wrap it around himself. It was enormous, swamping his thin figure in fabric and comfort unknown for weeks in exile. He pushed himself further into the corner with the fletching table, close to his hiding box.

"The 'and die' is kind of redundant, 'innit?" Tommy muttered, head poking up from the fluff of the cloak’s collar.

Technoblade sighed. 

They were going to keep talking in circles. He would make a general statement, Tommy would overload him with non sequiturs and nonsense sentences until Technoblade tuned him out with Chat. However, he couldn’t ignore Tommy here. If he did, the boy would never go to sleep, and the cold of the night didn’t need a cold shoulder on top of it. A cranky Tommy and an annoyed Technoblade was a recipe for disaster, overthrowing governments or otherwise.

There was only one way he knew how to talk in times like this:

“Let me tell you a story.”

It was an offer more intimate than Tommy knew. 

Naturally, he rejected it.

“What if I don’t want to hear a story?” Said teenager shifted in his cozy corner. 

“Too bad.” He pushed the crown up from where it was slipping off his head. If he was going to coax the world's most energetic child to sleep, he needed to let down his guard. 

“Why do you even wear that thing?”

“What, the crown? It’s not like I use it in combat or anything, it's just for fun. Fun is banned? You're banning fun now?" He laughed. "Good luck getting anyone on your side."

“I don’t have a side. Or rather, my side is your side? Now you’ve gone and got my head all confused.” Tommy’s voice had grown softer. 

Techno couldn’t have that.

“There’s no ‘our side’. We are not a team.”

Tommy huffed. “Until we get the discs back.”

“Will you let go of the discs for a minute? They’re not going anywhere.”

“Could go into a fire.”

Techno huffed heavier. Puffs of true flame curled out from his snout. Not the metaphorical risk clouding Tommy’s mind. He was already headed towards the pitfall he wanted to avoid. It was time to change the subject.

“Considering your limited knowledge of Greek classics, you wouldn’t happen to know Homer?”

“Who what now?” 

A solid ‘no’ would have sufficed, Techno thought.

“You probably haven’t heard of Odysseus, then.”

“With a name like that, I reckon I should of. Wait, this is one of your myths again, isn’t it?” Tommy kicked himself up, back against the wall to look at Technoblade as they spoke.

“I like a certain section of stories. Is that so wrong?”

“Is this story about you?”

The Blade tutted. “No, no, no. I don’t have any family. Orphans killed my parents. Family is useless, it slows you down unless you’re exacting revenge. In that case, family is excellent. Nothing better than dead family.”

"That doesn't make any sen—"

"Keep interrupting and I'll make you sleep in Carl's stable."

Tommy pouted. His hair stuck up in every which way, active as he was.

“Odysseus was a king of his own island. He lived in peace with his family on Ithaca, and he was known as a wise man.” It had been a while since Technoblade had told a story like this. His rhythm was lacking. “He was the favorite of Athena, the goddess of battle and wisdom.”

“Gods aren’t real.”

“You’re looking at one.”

Silence. “Yeah, right.” 

"Moving on.” He wasn’t willing to indulge Tommy in that story when he was preoccupied with telling another. “While Odysseus was a king, he wasn’t the chief king. At that point Greece was broken up into various city states, other little countries that refused to be conquered. While it was all Greece, there was a difference between a Spartan and an Athenian. Too many fights for power and the geopolitical landscape had torn them apart. Odysseus had his friends, though it would be more accurate to call them his allies, his country with whom he had sworn an oath to fight alongside. Each of those kings would be headed out their own separate way.” That felt right to Technoblade. “They were brothers in arms, finally called to war for the sake of their nation. But Odysseus ended up alone.”

“Why?”

“The people around him broke the rules. They went up against the sun god, and so they were punished.”

“What’d they do?”

“Oh, uh. Ate his cows.”

Tommy gasped.

“No!”

“Okay, so you get it. The Pet Skirmishes but on a much, much bigger scale.”

“Where’s Sapnap?”

“Tommy, it’s a myth, it’s not about your friends. They’re gods.” 

“Dunno why you’d tell a story about a bunch of boring, stuffy gods. Hey, why’re you such a bad storyteller?”

That was it. "I'm trying to monologue here! Chat, Chat see how impossible this is?"

“Tell chat that you’re a pussy! And I’m the coolest! TommyInnit is the coolest, got it?” Tommy’s eyes, which had held the murmurs of sleep, were now alive and vicious.

Undoing all of Technoblade’s work. And proving he didn’t understand Chat.

“Bruh.”

“I am!”

“For the third time now, if you will let me talk, I’m trying to tell the story.” 

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Odysseus was the only one who knew the warning signs. He had encountered the gods before, and he would rather starve to death than offend them. Because sometimes, Tommy, not offending people is a good thing, and making needless enemies makes the situation ten times worse.”

Tommy bit his lip. 

Techno continued.

“But no one ever listens to Odysseus. That’s one of the ironies of the story, Tommy. Often being right lets the hero escape with his life. Doesn’t mean he can save anyone else. Most of the time he doesn’t even save himself.”

“What?”

“I mean, I tried telling you. Heroes are doomed the moment they call themselves heroes. Odysseus never did, he was smart. It was the people that came later and told the story that did that. A hero is born through the crossing of the stars, something divine. Special. For all of his worth, the burden of expectation is put on his shoulders and then he battles with his pride. The Greeks had a word: hubris. It’s the hubris that strikes the killing blow. It’s never the beast or the gods themselves, it’s someone the hero has wronged. Odysseus wronged a monster, a cyclops, but even that was too far.”

Tommy was quiet. All of his focus was pooled into Technoblade.

“Odysseus played the part of warrior. Now it was time for him to be a survivor. See, it didn’t matter what the gods put him through, the trials or the tribulations or the meaningless delays. He had a mental image of what his home was. Ithaca. It had stopped being a real place. Instead it was an idea. A concept.”

“Oh.”

“And even when he was gone, trapped by witches and beasts, he kept that vision of home in his head. Because he was going to get there no matter what. It was all he had left of the world he knew. Even when he was offered another life, another world in what might have been a better place, he turned it down. Because it wasn’t what he wanted. He learned what being a hero meant, and now what he wanted was the opposite: to go home. To be normal. But the thing is, life doesn’t wait around for us to come back.”

Tommy glanced down to his neck. The lodestone compass shimmered in the dim light. His Tubbo.

“The world doesn’t care what your aspirations are, your nation, or your ideas. It doesn’t even care about your friends. The world doesn’t care if what you want does not want you. It doesn’t care, period. It’s cold. Survival is survival.”

-

"I want to be a hero when I grow up!"

"Oh, you do?" The man chuckled, furloughing his spade to sit down on the steps beside him. 

"What's the point of having a name like Technoblade if you're not a hero?" He shut the book in his lap, face beaming.

The young man's mouth opened before a scream rang out from inside the house, followed by shouting and yelling. 

The blond haired man sighed. He smiled back, then rolled his eyes. The man reached out and tousled his hair.

Techno laughed as the man’s voice echoed:

"How are ÿ̸̻͓́̑͐́͗̽͝͠ö̶̝͖̱̫̈́̑́͌͒̋ǜ̴͍͖̝̑̋ ̴̢̛̛̮̼̲͖̠̻̼̝̥̗̻̩̲̼̂̽͌̾̇͂̈́̾͐̅͘̚t̷̤͔̥̤̫̫̟̀̐̈́̿͐ḧ̴̡̘̦͔̠͎̰̬̼̜̺̮͎͚͛̈́ͅȩ̵̦̦̠̬̼͔̰̩̯̻̍̈́͐̌̓͆̀̉̑͗ ̸̪̤̣̏͒̚͜ͅm̸̗͇̘̮̥̮̪̤̯̤̞͉͗̾́͜ą̸̡̖̭̣̭͉͎̥̫̝̑̿̅̄̓͐̽̊̂͂̆͠͝ͅţ̶̮͚̰̂̀̈́̐͆͑̍͆͗͝͠ü̶̢̻͔̼͓̹͖̺̯͙̅̂̔̊̐̅ͅr̴͔̐̾͛ẽ̴̱̰̣̀̓̉̀̆̓̈̄ ̸̛̱͇̺̂̿͑̏̍̋͊͊͗̋̇̆͝o̴̬̙͚͇̳͎͆̇̌̐̿͂̓̄͛͝ͅn̵̨̈́̈́̂̋̐ͅe̷̛̟̱͖͙͙̩͆̊̆̓̂͒̈̍?̸͖̟̺͇̬̗̰̭̺͇͆͐̀͊́̄̍̀̅́͜

-

> home. 

> Tommy's still looking at you, you haven't spoken in a minute

> do you feel sick?? whats going on i just got here

“Blade?” And there was Tommy, with a drop of concern in his voice.

Technoblade shook his head. Late joiners. The memory crumbled to dust. 

He continued. “The Isle of Ogygia. That was where Odysseus’s survival took him. He stayed there, in the lull of the witch Circe, who wanted him for herself—”

“That’s sexist.”

“W-What?”

“The witch!”

“You think the witch is sexist?”

“No no no, the hero! He gets called upon—lured—by this woman just because he’s what, the hero?”

He could not believe this. “Tommy. I didn’t write it.” 

“I’m just saying!”

“The Isle of Ogygia. Or Atlantis, some people think it could be Atlantis, it honestly depends on what version you’re reading but that’s not important. Odysseus spent countless years there, safe but soulless. His heart was gone from his body, kept at bay with thoughts of home. Of family, of kinship. He was out of his body and mind for seven years. He was at the gods’ mercy, but fortune smiled upon him and he escaped.”

Techno took a moment to return his attention to his listener.

Tommy was transfixed, eyes wide.

For some reason, that made him smile.

“He made his way to one of his allied kingdoms. The gods, though, had shifted his appearance. This was to know how he still stood in their eyes. When so much time passes, relationships and bonds fade. Only his dog recognized him. The home he’d wanted for so long was plundered, practically destroyed. His wife—”

“He had a wife? That’s unrealistic.”

Technoblade repeated, annoyed: “His wife and his son didn’t recognize him. Only the dog.”

Tommy continued to ignore his point.

“Well dogs are good like that. I reckon dogs are better than most people."

Moving for the first time since the beginning of the story, he took a step towards the corner.

“Tommy, I’m trying to tell you that even though he won—He got everything he wanted, he got to go home—He didn’t win. His home was different. And he wasn’t the same man.”

“That’s—That’s sad.” 

Tommy stood up and Technoblade crossed his arms.

“It’s not a happy story.” 

"Then why are you telling it?"

“Forget about it.” If Tommy didn't understand, he wasn't going to waste any more time explaining. 

Tommy moved, shifting the cloak on his shoulders crooked. He opened the spruce doors, a strange expression on his face. Like a mixture of horror, fear, and anger. Technoblade recognized the anger first. Tommy looked back, stepped into the snow, then shut the door.

Techno thought, what? He’s going to throw a tantrum because a story doesn’t go how he wanted—

-

A white substance flitted down through the air like snow. Small, unburnt hands grasped upwards to try and catch it. They had only seen snow, never this new, fluffy, off-white plume.

The boy coughed up ash. 

“Hello? D̸̫̦̳̰͐̉ã̸̲̦̞̺͆d̶̗̒̐̕̕?”

-

Technoblade grabbed the edge of the box, stumbling. 

The memory—No, vision—was incompatible with reality. How would he have gotten to the Nether as a child? And Techno never had a father, never depended on anyone, never needed—

Before he could even begin to understand the implications, he was thrown back in.

-

He was lost. 

He was alone. 

And he couldn’t have known that enough inhaled ash will scar your lungs, burn your skin, and bury you beneath a mountain of suffocating fire the moment you stop moving. He couldn’t have known that the Nether contains biomes of this stuff.

Ash has suffocated him. It burns, searing his skin and cooking him alive. It’s like the fall of Pompeii. He read a book on Pompeii once. Perhaps in some distant time an archaeologist will discover the hollow shell of his remains and theorize what happened here, or a traveler, a survivalist happening along the same paths years later when he’s just a mound.

He read another book, once. About a volcano. It’s similar to that pyroclastic flow, a mix of awful molten core and heat. There’s no way to swim in lava, not truly. It doesn’t stop a thirteen year old boy from scraping for the surface in a pit.

He was going to die here.

It’s his coat that saves him. Handcrafted and made with love. The bottom half tears, and he loses a precious gift but gets to keep his life. 

Everything is burning. Is he screaming? His clothes are torn and he’s burning, he’s burning—

-

As quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Technoblade was instantly brought to the sensation of cracklings coals. He jumped at the sound, then looked down at his hands.

Hooves, right. Hooves.

This was too much to process.

Techno looked up.

He watched Tommy waddle to the front of the house in front of Carl’s stable, trudging through the snow the most inefficient way Technoblade could imagine. He was wiping his face.

For some reason, he thought it was something his good friend Philza would have a laugh at.

> PHILZA!!!

> Philza Minecraft?

> Philza would love it here

> The child is annoying, I hope he freezes to death

> I miss Philza

> Countdown to Philza visiting!

“Chat, you’re screaming into my ear right now.” He needed clarity, not a thousand voices in unison chanting for a friend.

Even from here, he could see that tears were pooling in Tommy’s eyes.

Technoblade didn’t bother with a coat. He ignored the sounds of the fire and how the heat made him feel uneasy, instead opting to climb down the ladder and go out the front door. Tommy was muttering to himself, a hand petting Carl.

“‘s not a happy story—What’s the point of telling a story if it’s not happy? I reckon he’s just one big downer. Downing all the time.”

It was then Techno decided to speak. 

“I’d say talking to yourself is a bad habit but since I can’t really do that without coming off like a hypocrite, I’ll tell you that being quieter usually means people can’t overhear sensitive, secret information.”

Tommy didn’t jump, but his shoulders hitched.

“I don’t care about secrets.” Tommy crossed his arms.

“Everything’s a secret when you can’t understand basic information people are telling you.”

“You don’t tell me anything!”

“I’m trying to tell you why people tell sad stories.”

“If I were his family, I would have recognized him.”

“No you wouldn’t have! That is literally the point of the story. You’re like five now, you think you’d recognize someone you saw as a baby?”

It happens a third time and Technoblade’s world spins.

> Recognize recognize recognize

> Is he finally remembering????

> idk, not yet?

> Ugh, someone get me when something interesting happens

> your dead, whats stopping you from watching all the time?

> It’s actually ‘you’re’

> where

> where?

> WHERE DID I ASK—

-

There is a house on a hill in the forest. It looks familiar, with a basement, a middle floor, and a top floor with stairs leading up from the outside.

There is a house beneath a hill in a fierce tundra. 

There was a house on a hill in a forest. It was a home too, once.

Both can theoretically exist at the same time. The house on a hill in the forest is perfectly ingrained in his memory, enough for him to replicate it bit by bit.

There is a boy with a beanie, taller than him. He wears a scowl.

There is a boy smaller than him with a bandage on his cheek.

Sunlight flows through the curtains like honey, oozing in warm delight. There is something resting on the bridge of his nose, and his fingers fly to adjust it.

He laughs.

The tiny freckled boy smiles and it shows his tooth gap.

A deep, tenor voice calls from downstairs and they rush to where storage is, the chests the dining room.

Their father is tired. There are bags under his blue eyes, but his smile lights up the room like the honey-light and like his brothers’ faces. He takes off his hat to sit at the table, a cape swishing behind him.

They’re singing at the table. Four humans with perfect harmony. They sing together all the time, how could he forget?

 The candles on the cake are flickering, and it’s a world away from the fires of the Nether.

“Happy birthday T̶̡͆̋́͝—”

-

Nothing else but static noise and Chat going wild.

“I’m sixteen! I am an adult man!” Tommy’s fists are balled as he stands, beating against his chest to each word and anger burns in his eyes until he sees his hero’s face. “Technoblade?”

His heart pounded.

-

The boy that Technoblade has been seeing through the eyes of is not an adult. Now he is a teenager. He is taller, the clothes more unfitting than before. There are stitches to fix the jacket, now forced to be a half-coat that tucks into his shirt.

He looks like the mockery of a man.

Actually, he doesn’t look like a man at all.

-

Technoblade remembered this part.

The rest had to be a daydream, the machinations of a tired mind. Separating his identity from his mask is impossible.

Literally.

-

He has forgotten what snow feels like. He has forgotten snow. There are many things Technoblade has forgotten, but the name of snow sticks. Snow. It sounds like a dream, like the deranged ramblings of a piglin who lost his mind, and like a fairy tale all at once.

He liked fairy tales, once. 

Now they’re just unrealistic.

The piglin group he is trailing turn to look at him. He’s been following behind them, scavenging whatever food they decide to discard and bartering whatever he can get his hands on. Their eyes are vacant, white. His eyes are present, despite his appearance. Alert. He has to be, it’s one mistake and death. 

The Nether is not forgiving.

He notices when their behavior shifts.

The piglins decide to attack. 

Technoblade sighs.

He doesn’t want to attack this one. There have been too many packs, too many attempts at communication, too many tries at a family.

Technoblade has no tools. He’s forced to work with his fists and some metal the pigs scrapped, which with enough tempering he’s made into knuckles. Netherite knuckles, but that knowledge will evade him until years in the future.

He busts one of the pigs’ heads open, then shoves another’s head into the netherrack wall. Blood spills on his boots. A tusk is embedded in his hand; he puts pressure on the wound then yanks it out, stabbing it into the head of the third. The fourth pushes into his back, and Techno slams his head back into its skull until it fractures.

The fifth runs off. 

And all at once, an uproar, a chant from a place and group he cannot see or hear.

It sings that Technoblade never dies.

-

All at once Chat was unanimous:

> Technoblade never dies.

> TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES

> technoblade never dies

> blood for the blood god!!!

> Techno never dies

> Technoblade never dies!

He nodded in agreement.

“Technoblade.”

Tommy laughed.

Techno realized he had convinced the child he was fine.

“Is that how you get the girls, Blade?”

“I’m not interested.” The art of combat and potato farming interested him more than girls. Or anyone, for that matter. 

“Are you crying?”

“No.” Tommy sniffed. 

“Here, let go of Carl.” Technoblade pulled Tommy away.

“But I wasn’t—”

“I killed everyone that ever touched that horse.”

“Okay, fine.” Tommy doesn’t move.

Techoblade can’t sigh because he’s already sighed too much and anything that exacerbates the situation will give him a headache. Instead, he picks Tommy up and lifts him over his shoulder. He chooses to say nothing in response as Techno headed inside and down, down, until they were both in Tommy’s little nest of shiny things and stolen goods. 

Tommy struggled to stay on the bridge of consciousness. Technoblade takes his hand and walks him all the way there, staying down in the pitiful hole until Tommy has tired himself out from the sound of his own voice.

It was hours before he risked stepping away from the bed.

Snow fluttered down. It was cold and wet, but it was snow; a miracle all the same. 

Technoblade stretched out a hoof. It was not the hand of a small child that was trapped in the Nether. It was a Piglin beast who had believed he'd never feel the cold again. 

Technoblade glanced out the shutters. Tommy was inside, falling asleep. The silence of the home told him as much. 

He pulled his hand back inside. 

The fire of the top floor crackled. Techno dipped his head forward. His hands clasped around an invisible buckle, hidden underneath his hair. 

As easy and simple as changing clothes, Technoblade the human stood in his retirement home. His height was the same, scars still present, but now a long unkempt braid of hair trailed down his back. It was ill-maintained, tangled and disgusting. A liability.

Without thinking twice, Technoblade took his sword and slashed the braid off.

-

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?!” Dream yells. It feels like the ground is shaking beneath them.

Techno stands firm. He’s towering above him, sword at his side.

“Nope. I’ve been told it’s one of my best qualities.” His voice is monotonous as always.

The green fiend stood hunched over his stomach, shoulders rising and falling to the tune of his ragged breaths. He knew that they didn’t need to breathe. It was all theatrics, even in the middle of a fight. Still, Dream’s voice was frantic, jittery, shaking, and loud; something Chat assured him they altogether had never seen in their combined existences.

Technoblade felt smug.

Technoblade made the grave mistake of hubris.

In a flash, the god is behind him. The god that can see the straps of his mask, the god that slices it off with a well-placed swordstrike and grabs him by his braid.

“Y’know, I really didn’t want to kill you. I’ve heard about you, a little bit. I just didn’t care.” He whispers into Techno’s ear as the pain tears into his scalp.

It only took a half-second for him to find a solution.

Dream was guarding from the left, expecting another hit to his mask. 

Technoblade swiped at the right.

In a flash, he’s cut off his braid of pink hair and freed himself from the clutches of his enemy.

He smirks, and pulls out his axe. He doesn’t need the mask to fight, it’s already a part of him.

“C’mere, Dream.”

-

That one. That memory is real and he has all the proof he needs of that. He turned over his hand and pushed up the brass knuckles to see the gashes along his finger from where he held the grip. He sets the hand-to-hand weapon on the crafting table as he massages his hands.

Soaking his fingers in instant healing should alleviate the pain. Even for a moment. 

Dream hit hard. The wounds never left. 

But Technoblade hit harder.

A burned hand reached out to the snowfall. 

The snow didn't burn back. 

"He's not me, Chat. We're keeping it that way."

If there was one thing Technoblade was good at achieving, it was his goals.

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 15

Catch Up!

Sofia Welsh-De La Rosa and Timothée Chalamet will star in new Amazon series and, honestly, I won’t talk about anything else ever again

Amazon Prime has just announced the release of its new original series set in 1970’s New York. According to Hollywood Reporter, the new series will be lead by Sofia Welsh - De La Rosa, Timothée Chalamet, and Logan Lerman, and will be produced by Jordan Peele (Get Out and Us) and directed by Christina Hodson (Birds of Prey). The ambitious project is in talks with some other big names in Hollywood, such as Meryl Streep and even Robert de Niro, to join the series.

Honestly, I’m gagging. 

This might come as a surprise as both Sofia, who has been enjoying lots of Oscar’s buzz for the third year in a row, and Timothèe are on the prime of their movie careers, as two of the most prominent young actors in Hollywood, but according to many sources, Sofia has been looking for a way to work with Peele for a long time, while Timothèe is excited to add some action to his resume, after his role in Hostiles and The King. Also, rumor has it, Amazon is willing to pay a hefty (and I mean hefty) amount of money to sign the young stars. 

As for Logan Lerman, this is his the actor’s first TV role since 2005 and is set to be his comeback after his career faded a bit to the background. With the star-studded cast, Amazon is hoping this to be the platform’s next big hit. 

There is no doubt that Sofia, Timothèe, and Logan are three of THE most talented young actors today, with Sofia being the reigning queen of the pack. Recently, the actress has played a pirate, a thief, a devious courtesan and a feminist writer trying to bring down love, and she’s been rumored to have just signed a deal with Disney to play her very own princess, as well as an undisclosed character in MCU’s highly anticipated Black Widow. She truly has the range, Darling!

Sofia was seen having coffee with Timothèe early in the week, before the show’s announcement, which sparked rumors that the actress had ended things with Harry Styles after he had dinner with his ex in London. She was also seen leaving the James Corden Late Late Night’s studio with Logan...

@BobbyC I’m sorry but all of them are gay...

@Peanutbuttah Eh, she can’t act anyway

@Loveisloud @peanutbuttah She can act, she has been in commercial and art-house movies and has received rave reviews every time. You just don’t like her because she’s dating your fave. 

@Arewethereyet she’s an sl*t. So glad Harry’s done with her…

@Soph Are you drunk Buzzfeed? One does not leave Harry Styles for anyone!

****

Harry was cooking. 

The air smelled like garlic and butter and I breathed in deeply, just realizing how fucking hungry I was, as I followed him to the kitchen. It just occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything that day, other than a cup of coffee that Harry had made me in the morning. It was a little strong for my taste, I liked mine with sugar, even when my mom kept telling me I was being violently disrespectful to coffee. I didn’t care, not one bit. 

I never really ate on interviews or auditions days, it made my tummy feel funny and I was usually afraid that my clothes wouldn’t fit like they were supposed to after, so, no food for me, thank you. Usually, D would force-feed me as soon as we were done, practically shoving fruits, nuts, and salads down my throat (sometimes even a burger!), but today I was way too anxious and excited to even pay attention to her efforts. I was going on a date with Harry, I couldn’t care less about anything else!!!

And now, I was fucking hungry and it smelled even better in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” I smiled, looking at the pasta that was boiling on the stove and the bubbling alfredo sauce. Grilled prawns and a green salad were carefully plated in rustic blue and gold plates.

My eyes traveled to him, and I saw him hesitate for a second before he gifted me with a shy smile. He was so lovely, it was no surprise that my head became fuzzy every time I was around him. Even the most superficial thought struggled to grab a hold to my brain. I wondered if anyone could keep their wits around him, but somehow, I doubted it.

“It takes my mind off of things,” he finally said. “And I kinda wanted to impress you, I guess.” 

The admission made my heart soar in my chest and I beamed at him as he stood in front of me. I admired his beauty for a second, his skin was slightly tanned and it looked almost delicious against the white fabric of his shirt, and his smile was warm, making me feel giddy as he trapped me against the counter with his arms on each side of my body. 

I wanted to kiss him, so so badly, but instead, I let my fingers brush over his neck until they reached the tips of his hair. It tickled and he laughed softly with the most wonderful smile.

“Really?” I asked him softly, cause I didn’t want to break the intimate moment we were sharing. 

“Yeah. A bit silly, innit?”

“No, it’s not silly. But, if you wanted to impress me, then you should’ve made a chocolate lava cake,” I teased. “You would’ve gotten me, then.”

“Chocolate, uh?” The right corner of his lip shot upwards, and an adoring feeling hit me right in the chest like a tidal wave. 

“Yeap.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time,” Harry muttered, his words getting lost in the air as he leaned down to kiss me.

I realized that it was all I wanted: To kiss him slowly, maybe even for hours. But I knew I had to stop him. I was under his spell and there was nothing I could do about it, nothing I wanted to do, anyway. But even I could admit that this was just a dream, one that I wanted to remember every second of. So when he was gone, I would still have those memories. 

So before his lips could brush mine, before he could melt my brain with his kisses, I pressed my forehead to his and dropped my hands to his chest, right where his heart was beating rapidly. 

“Sorry,” I said shyly, casting my eyes down so I wouldn’t have to look at him, not a few more seconds, not until I had gathered the will to stand strong by my decision. 

“Is there something wrong?” His voice was full of sincere concern, a little bit rougher as well, which made his accent more noticeable. 

“No,” I shook my head, finally looking into his green eyes. “Everything’s perfect.”

“You just don’t want me to kiss you?”

“It’s just...I want to remember every bit of tonight,” I said, as I tried to ease the utter embarrassment that was crawling over my chest. Who said stuff like that? Writers in cheesy movies or bad teen shows. Fuck. 

“Except for my kisses?” He insisted, almost like a little boy fishing for reassurance. I brought my fingers to his cheek and grazed them it until he smiled at me. 

The answer was “fuck, no”. His kisses were a memory I wanted to carry with me forever. But I also wanted to have that night, so I could carry it with me, and compare it to every other date, every other person that would come my way. 

“I want to remember the little details,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “The dinner you made, which is really close to burning, the grandpa pants…”

“Hey! These look cool! And the sauce, I have it under control!”

“If you say so,” I sneered mischievously, twisting my lips into a mocking smile as he pretended to be offended. “And I want to remember everything you did to make me feel special”

Harry’s arms looped around my waist as he pulled me to his chest and I hugged him back and looked at him, battling the need to just lean in and kiss him. His lips were so pink. 

We both sucked at the whole “no kissing allowed” thing, and somehow that made me feel a lot better. For once, I wasn’t the needy, dreamy one. 

“What do you think?” I asked in a whisper, smiling against the brush of his lips as he bumped our noses together.

“I want to kiss you, Sof, all fucking night long,” he pouted. “Been thinking ‘bout it all day.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Just...lemme have this, yeah?”

“Why?”

“Cause…” I laughed embarrassedly. “I already have your kisses in a little folder in my brain. Now I wanna have this.”

“Is it just me in that folder?” Harry asked, suddenly interested in some other thing that frowning. Curiosity and amusement were burning in his stare and I rolled my eyes at him, almost scoffing at the fact that was the only thing that had managed to catch his attention. 

“Mostly you…” I conceded, even though the petty part of me was all for rolling out with a long list of names before I got to his name. “And Sebastian Stan…” I said, not being able to resist it. 

“Bucky Barnes?” His eyebrows twisted in confusion and he looked at me as I licked my lips, considering just how weird I wanted my answer to be.  

“And the cartoon, too...” I replied, a little bit too casually for it to go unnoticed, but Harry didn’t seem to notice, cause as he was nodding thoughtfully, his hands traveled to my neck again, making me look at him as he dipped his head down to reach the curve of my neck. 

“That’s a bit greedy, baby,” He whispered against my skin, pressing soft kisses down to my pulse point. I wasn’t sure if that was technically a kiss, and I didn’t care, it felt so good. “Someone else?” He was cheating, and we both knew it. I could feel his smile growing bigger, and I sighed as he grazed his teeth over the curve of my neck and let his tongue soothe my skin. “Babe?” He insisted, just to tease me. It was hard to think, and he knew it, but I wasn’t going to admit it just yet. 

“Uh.” I licked my lips and struggled for a second, as I struggled to remember what was it that I was going to say. “Chris Evans, “ I began. “and uh, Michael B. Jordan. Mmm… and Logan Lerman.”

“Isn’t that the guy you’re gonna work with?” He asked, stopping suddenly to look at me. I fluttered my eyes open and smiled when they could finally focus on him. 

“Yeah, him and Timothée Chalamet.”

“Mmmm...I don’t know if I want to share my folder with them,” Harry pouted, which made me laugh. I realized it was no laughing matter, but still, a warm, almost giddy, laughter kept bubbling out of my tummy. 

“Why? Does it make you jealous, H?” I teased.

“Should I be?”

“Mmmm...I don’t know. I honestly think I would let Logan fuck me...those eyes, man.”

“So funny, S…” Harry rolled his eyes. He was not as amused as I had expected him to be. 

“You shouldn’t be,” I said softly, looking him in the eyes, serious and sincere.  

“You sure?” He asked and I was sure he wasn’t talking about Logan Lerman anymore. 

“I’m sure, baby.” I wasn’t even lying. “So, who’s in yours?” I asked, cause maybe that’d take attention away from myself. I didn’t think things through though, cause he had a whole bunch of options for his answer. Who could it be? One of his supermodel exes? His singer ex? This wasn’t a fun game at all. 

“You.”

“Oh, so THAT’S how you answer that kind of question!!” I exclaimed, which made him laugh, and, as he did so, his dimples showed on his face, making him look a little boyish. He was fucking pretty, Jesus. 

“I’m not even trying to be a good boyfriend here,” Harry chuckled, and I relished on the way the word `boyfriend” sounded out of his lips. So pretty, so fucking pretty. “My folder is called “When Sof’s not around”, and I think we need to fill it up, so I don’t run out of thoughts.”

“Oh, we don’t want that,” I scrunched up my nose and shook my head at him as a smile played on my lips. I was so fucking happy and I couldn’t even figure out why. 

“No, we don’t.” The tip of his tongue lapped across his pink lips, and I followed it with my eyes, taking a second or two before I peered up to him again. “I was hoping we could kiss all night,” he said softly. “and maybe I could eat you out by the pool.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit…”

“You wouldn’t need one, baby,” Harry laughed, a mix of mischief and endearment lacing with it. I couldn’t stop staring at him, and my knees wobbled a bit as he leaned down, bumping our noses together one more time, as the soft brush of his lips against my skin made me shiver. 

“Don’t cheat,” I whispered and his soft laugh echoed down in every inch of my body. His lips grazed over my forehead, as he pressed a soft kiss to my skin. 

“Ok, baby. We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s silly, y’know?” He started, pushing me back so he could look at me with his bright green eyes. “We’re just starting, Sof.”

****

I wanted to kiss him. 

I looked at him, licking a spoonful of dessert with my head propped on my hand as I listened to him talk, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to lick the trace of chocolate out of his lips. 

“Is there something wrong, S?” I noticed there wasn’t much concern in his voice, not like there usually was when he asked me if I was ok. This time, there was a hint of mockery, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and that all I wanted to do was to sit on his lap and press soft kisses from his jaw to his lips. 

Fuck.

“No,” I smiled sweetly, cause I wasn’t one to go down without a fight, and I took his hand in mine and pressed it to my lips before I looked at him again. 

“Were you distracted?” His smile was turning more devilish as the seconds went by and I felt myself get warm as he leaned closer, his hands dropping to my thigh and pressing softly to it.

He wasn’t gonna win. I was not going to let him. 

“Nope,” I said, letting the ‘p’ pop between my lips. “Tell me about your album, I promise I’ll be a grown-up about it.” 

“Nice save…” Harry chuckled. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

“I have recently discovered that I’m a very jealous person. I don’t think I’ll like it, but I’ll be happy for you.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous.” A smile tugged on his lips and I felt warm, so warm inside, I couldn’t help but smile as well. “And I think you’re like it, especially since I made a few last-minute changes, against Jeff’s will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he kept saying I had the guts, the audacity to change the album when we’re about to drop the first single.”

“What changes?” I insisted, because Jeff’s feelings were the least of my concern at the moment. 

I wished I could have played it cool. Maybe that would’ve made me look more interesting, aloof, unapproachable, and all those things a girl should be in front of her crush. But my heart was racing and the world was turning chaotic as my head ticked, like a tiny little bomb. 

I needed to know. 

Tick, tick. 

“You’re already sure you’re not gonna like it,” Harry smirked, surely unaware of the mess inside my head. “You might as well wait for it.”

No!!! TIck tick. 

“Oh, please, please, pretty please?? What’s the advantage of this if I can’t get a tiny sneak peek?”

“Well, for instance, you get me to cook for you…”

“It was delicious, thank you.”

“And you get me to eat you out at night when you’re not being stubborn and imposing kiss-bans.”

“I like that very much, too,” I giggled, looking at his green eyes as he got just a bit closer, just an inch away from me. 

“So it’s not such a bad deal, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Good.” His bottom lip rolled into his lips and he bit it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds as his eyes kept burning little holes into my soul. That’s how it felt. “Let’s watch a movie, baby. Are there any bans on cuddling?”

“No, not yet.”

His fingers squeezed mine and he got up swiftly from the table, smiling brightly as we covered the few steps to a different room near the pool, where a giant screen awaited for us. There were a bunch of individuals blue chair, blue and velvety, and a larger one, that was meant to comfortably fit two. The room was dark, only lit by the lights coming from the screen, and I followed him blindly until we were sitting side by side. Slowly, we found each other, and as Harry sat against the armchair, I settled between his legs, cuddling up to his chest while his large hand rested on the curve of my waist. 

He smelled like a lazy Sunday morning when the rain is lightly tapping on your windows and all you can hear are the chirping birds when still early, so the world hasn’t woken up just yet and you get to focus on that feeling, on the promise of what’s coming. 

He also smelled like pasta and chocolate, and I didn’t mind that at all. 

He felt soft, comforting, and sweet, but above all, he felt safe. I was safe with him. 

And, I struggled for a bit, trying to understand what came next, what was the warmth and giddiness that settled in my tummy every time I looked at him. 

“You ok, baby?” Harry asked and I nodded absentmindedly, not ready to let my thoughts go just yet. What was it? “Wanna watch Set It Up?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. your choice.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t say that often.”

“Oh, shhh, Harry I always do whatever you want.”

“We definitely have different definitions of ‘Whatever Harry wants’” He mused and I propped myself up to look at him, almost suspiciously, almost angry.

“Do we? What do you want?” I asked. 

“To kiss you. And for you to stay the night.”

“I have a bed, y’know?” I quirked my eyebrow, looking at him as I had already won the argument. 

“Yeah, unfortunately…”

“And we promised we would behave tonight.”

“You can stay in a different room,” he offered. “Or I will.”

“What’s the point then?”

“You won’t have to miss me in the morning…” he shrugged. I laughed out loud, despite my best efforts to look offended. “And I won’t have to miss you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Love. 

He looked a lot like love. 

And love looked a lot like him. 

***

Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh were out grabbing Fro-yo and I’ll never be as cool as either of them

Yes, I know what you’re gonna say: Are they paying you to write this sh*t? And the answer is yes! someone’s paying me to write this sh*t! Alas, neither Harry nor Sofia is. I wish. 

The usually private couple, and bear in mind I am using the word couple loosely here as they haven’t confirmed to be dating, gave the world a glimpse of their relationship as they stepped out in Los Angeles to grab ice-creams and bubble teas, along with friends.

Ever since the rumors of their relationship spread around, the couple has been mostly keeping a low profile - which is not very surprising as Harry Styles is not very open about his personal life since he was a member of One Direction and a large part of his fans believed him to be romantically involved with one of his bandmates (that was a mouthful! And also very true, there has been a lot of conspiracy theories about it)

Sofia, who’s in the middle of an Oscar campaign (and has been showing us just how much designers adore her), sported a pair of leggings, a crop top, and a large blazer, a perfect outfit for the ever-changing LA weather, and looked happy and relaxed as she waited for Harry to get their orders. Both stars took photos with fans and left together in Styles’ classic car…

****

We were made out of good intentions. 

We slept together that night and every night after that for an entire week. We didn’t do much, we kissed and cuddled, and spent our mornings lazily together until one of us had to go out to the real world. We even went out and we kept stealing looks and smiles at each other, like two little kids that were too shy in front of their crushes. 

Photos were taken. Articles were published. Midge was elated. 

Harry’s new single was coming out that night, and there was going to be a party to celebrate it. If it was a hit, they were going to celebrate their success and all the hard work that went into it. It was a flop, and it was not going to flop, they were going to drink for better times ahead. 

“Fuck!!!” 

I stared at the ceiling, willing my body to move and failing miserably at it as every little muscle in my body contracted painfully. My arms hurt, and my legs felt like they were on fire. 

I just needed 5 more minutes before I got up and got ready to leave. 

It was day 4 of “my new life” as my trainer liked to call it, and after another lunch of grilled chicken and steamed broccoli, I was ready to quit. I had trained and dieted before for different roles, but this time, I had a feeling she wanted to suck the life out of me. It even made me reconsider if I needed to be in a Marvel Movie. Would Midge kill me if I quit?

“Sof…” The male voice scared me just a little, as I thought I was alone in my house. I turn around just slightly, as much as my tired poor body could handle and smiled as I saw Sam standing by my door. “Can I come in?”

He was holding a tray, with something that looked like a sandwich, coffee, and a glass of water, along with a white bottle of medicine. I nodded, grunting even at the soft movement, and he walked quickly to my bed, setting the tray down before me as he stood awkwardly. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I struggled to ask while I propped myself up and sat criss-cross on my bed. I sounded angry, and maybe I was, why would he bring me a sandwich? It was all I wanted to eat and all I couldn’t eat at the same time. 

“I’m off work today, and I wanted to check on you. Cat told me you’ve been feeling under the weather. I called your mom and she told me you should “just eat a sandwich and take an aspirin”, so here they are,” he said, offering me a childish smile as he pointed the tray with a little too much joy. 

“I can’t eat a sandwich,” I sulked. “And I need to get ready, I have to go to Harry’s.”

“You can eat a sandwich. And he can wait 5 minutes, you’re always there.”

I realized we hadn’t talked about the kiss, not really. I avoided being alone with him, and whenever the occasion presented itself, Sam would go out of the room, giving me space and maybe waiting for me to be the first one to reach out. I had never done that. Honestly, I didn’t think I would.

“You’re right, Sammy,” I said, picking the sandwich in my hands and noticing that he had already cut the crust off. “Thank you.”

It was weird between us, tense and quiet, and I didn’t like it. I bit into the bread looking at an empty spot on the wall as I waited for him to say something. Anything, I would take it. But Sam remained silent, pressing his palms on his thighs as he went to get up. 

“Sam,” I called for him and I smiled shyly when he finally turned around. He took his time, though, and for a moment there, I was scared he was going to leave. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what you want to hear when someone you like kisses you.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes,” I breathed and I realized I wasn't lying. I did want to kiss him, there was no use in denying that. 

I put the sandwich down on the plate and moved closer to Sam until I could see the golden freckles that were hidden in his light brown eyes.

“Do you remember that night when you came through my window and stayed the night with me?”

“Yeah, I heard your dad scream, and I wanted to be there in case…”

“I know, Sam. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since then,” I admitted and he kept staring at me as if he was considering what his next move would be. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me?

“You’re not being fair to me, Sof.”

“I know. You haven’t been fair to me either, but here we are.”

There was a moment of panic, cause for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. He leaned over me and I held my breath as I looked at him, not able to stop him just yet. But as his lips brushed over my forehead, I closed my eyes, smiling as he pulled away from me. 

“Eat the fucking sandwich, Sof,” he replied and it wasn’t enough. I took his hand before he could leave and I licked my lips, peering up to him with something more than just fear pressing up to my chest. 

“Are we good?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we’ll talk about it again when he gets back with his ex.”

That was a low blow, and we both knew it, but I just stayed quiet as he left the room, wondering if I deserved it. 

****

It took me a while to get ready, so I was late for Harry’s party. I went straight to the pool, where a large screen had been set up and the new video seemed to be on a loop. I couldn’t find Harry anywhere, but at the same, he was all I could see. I stared at the screen, looking at his golden skin as he was surrounded by the adoring crowd, at the way they kept touching and the expression on his face as he leaned into them. The song didn’t even matter, cause all I could focus on was his stupidly beautiful green eyes. 

I mean, I had watched his videos before. I had seen him fly through the sky and be surrounded by kids, but this was different. Those were entertaining and beautiful, and I felt the emotion in my tummy simply because it was him, and somehow, just seeing him made me happy. But in this one he meant to capture your attention and a little bit of your soul. He wanted to be desired and to be free along the way. And it was such a fucking sexy video.  

I lost count of how many times I allowed myself to watch the video, but it was probably too many times. After a while, I decided it was time to look for the real Harry, who was still nowhere to be seen, so I left the pool, smiling and greeting everyone as I passed by. 

I hoped he was alone, cause I wanted to fucking kiss him like no one else was looking. I wanted to tell him how lovely, talented, and amazing he was. I was going to kiss him a lot and praise him, it couldn’t get better than that. 

I looked for him in the living room, where a small crowd was throwing back cocktails and beers and went out to the front door, where people were lounging about, a bit drunkenly. But he wasn’t anywhere, and I was starting to feel uneasy. 

It took me more than a few minutes to make my way to his room because people kept getting in my way. I did my best to smile and engage in silly conversations about nothing, but my heart was growing heavy and my brain was too anxious to even remember if I had succeeded. 

I heard him talk even before I stood by his door. I couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to, but I noticed that his words were a little bit slurred, and his accent dripped thick in his low voice. The door was slightly ajar and I pushed it open and stood by the frame as I saw him talking on the phone. He had his back to me, so he didn’t notice that I had arrived, not that it mattered. 

“C, you’re drunk,” I heard him say and I wished he had just said a different name. “No...I know I told you it was just a PR relationship...Cause I need time to figure out...Really, C? Wanna know if I still love you? You’re not being fair...” The last part came out as a dry laugh, and I knew I had to leave, it was rude and inappropriate, but, most importantly, it was breaking my fucking heart. But my feet seemed like they were made out of cement, and my legs had chosen that moment to numb out of pain. So, I was still standing there when he turned around, and probably saw the tears that were threatening to spill down my eyes. 

I wanted to know the answer too. Could I know it? It’d save us a lot of pain. 

“Bye, C.”

He dropped his phone to the bed and I looked at him as he walked quickly to me. He looked flustered and worried, but it all seemed so distant, that it didn’t matter. 

“Baby,” Harry said, but that wasn’t my name. Did her call her baby too? He probably did, he was a ‘baby’ kind of guy. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I was looking for you cause I wanted to check if you wanted me to post something on Instagram,” I lied. “D already drafted a tweet, it’s really simple.”

“Sof, how much did you hear?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna get a couple of photos and uh, I’m gonna go home, I think I need a rest day.”

His hand went to grab mine, but before he could do it, I turned and walked away rushing down the stairs until I could get lost in the crowd. 

Fair? None of us was being fair. 

[chandelier-s-notebook]

MCYT AUgust by me and @ghostofsilas Day 13: Post-Apocalyptic AU

Tagging @sleepysnails

Ao3 Link

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

Wilbur was in charge of rekindling the fire for breakfast.

The sound of Techno’s hatchet splitting logs for the fire filled the camp site. Phil was poking around their bags to find enough food suitable for a five person breakfast, while keeping their current supply in mind. Being a band of nomads in a post-apocalyptic environment didn’t really provide anyone with a stable food source.

Tommy and Tubbo were sitting in the hammock chatting away in the early dawn, watching the sun rise through the trees. It was a beautiful sight, the oranges peaking through the greenery.

It was a quiet routine that the five of them had fallen into since the Fallout. Granted, that was only three years ago, but they felt like they’d been traveling together for centuries. They knew each other’s ins and outs; deepest fears and greatest desires; dreams and wishes; prior families and love languages.

“Can we play manhunt?” Techno asked after tossing Wilbur some wood chunks. “I feel like doing a bit of running.”

“Yeah no problem.” Wilbur waved him off. “We’ll come looking in five minutes. What are the boundaries?”

“Stay in the woods, no crossing any roads.”

“Got it.” Wilbur shot Techno a thumbs up. “See you later.”

“Wait up mate!” Phil called, quickly standing. “I’m coming with you, two versus two.”

Techno paused. “You are?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Wilbur watched the two of them leave out of the corner of his eye, most of his focus still on the fire in front of him. “Tubbo? I assume you don’t want to go out and search.”

“No thanks!” Tubbo said, smiling wide. “Besides, someone needs to watch the fire! You and Tommy can go searching.”

Wilbur smiled. “I’ll just get the fire properly started, then we can go after them.”

It took a few tries and a few minutes, but Wilbur eventually got the fire properly started and stabilized. “Tubbo! Come sit!”

Tubbo hopped out of the hammock, leaving Tommy all alone with the blankets. He skipped over and plopped himself down on one of the bigger seating logs.

Tommy grumbled at being left behind, but he dutifully balled the blankets up and tossed them down with the rest of their supplies.

Wilbur grabbed a water bottle for Tubbo, “In case the fire gets out of hand.”

Tommy then followed Wilbur out into the woods to find the other two. Wilbur was very used to rough terrain, even from before the Fallout, whereas Tommy was used to tiled floors and never really got the hang of physical activity out in the wild. He didn’t slow the group down by any means, but he wasn’t always the best at keeping up when they weren’t walking on old eroding asphalt roads.

Wilbur took Tommy through the bush, following old trails that he and Techno had marked out the day prior. He took one of them and then started carving his own, walking around trees and stepping on low lying plants to flatten a path forward.

Once they reached a clearing, Wilbur sent Tommy forwards a little. “I’m just gonna climb up this tree. Get a higher viewpoint to see if I can stop them.”

“Okay! I’m not catching you if you fall!”

Wilbur chuckled and grabbed onto the thin trunk of the tree. He climbed up it, losing his footing a couple times, but never falling down.

Wilbur got himself situated a couple branches up and looked around the clearing. It didn’t look like much of a clearing to Tommy. All he could see was tall grass that reached his nose, he’d most likely need to get Tubbo to check him for tics later.

“I see them! They’re at the other end of the clearing,” Wilbur said. “I just don’t know how they got there. I can’t see their path.” Wilbur then turned to Tommy. “I’m coming down.”

He swung down from his branch and he grabbed onto a chunk of tall grass. Using it to break his fall, he grabbed onto it but still fell backwards to the side of the path.

Tommy started laughing a little at Wilbur, he didn’t offer to help him of course. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go find another way to them.” Wilbur then beckoned Tommy forward back down their path.

Here’s the thing. It’s much easier to walk when stuff gets flattened in front of you, with the tips facing away, but when you gotta go backwards it’s easier to trip on something. Tommy fell forward, needing to grab onto a  tree for stability.

“You good Tommy?”

“Yeah. I’ll let out a proper shriek if something is really wrong.”

“I thought Tommy Innit didn’t shriek,” Wilbur teased.

“Exactly. Meaning if I do something is really wrong,” he joked back at Wilbur. “I’m good though.” Tommy shook his foot to get out of the grass. “I’m fine, go on.”

Wilbur led Tommy around the trees to another entrance point to the clearing. “I’m gonna go over there and climb that tree. Techno and Phil might have seen me and moved.”

He took off quickly, leaving Tommy to run after him.

When Tommy reached Wilbur, he was crouched at the edge of the clearing trying to spot them. “Do you see them?”

“Yeah. They’re right there. On the other side. I can see the white stripes on Phil’s hat.”

“Where?”

“By that bush over there. Can you see?”

“Nope.” Tommy stepped to where Wilbur was and tried to look, but he still couldn’t see. “That’s okay. I’ll just follow you.”

Wilbur chuckled and stepped forwards into the tall grass. He went slowly, so as to not make too much sound and alert the other two of his presence. Tommy was just following behind trying to keep his footing and enjoying the atmosphere.

None of them ever let Tommy go hunting with them, so this was the closest to it that he’d ever be getting. Tommy didn’t really want to go hunting either, he mostly just wanted to hang out with Wilbur, Techno, or Phil. He adored hanging out with Tubbo back in camp, but they knew each other pre-Fallout. Plus, they both agreed that the other people in their group were super interesting and fun to be around.

Wilbur froze. “They’re going back into the trees.” He took off to the woods. “I’ll be back for you!”

Tommy ran after Wilbur, but the other was much faster than him; Tommy lost him when he dipped into the tree line. Tommy could hear Wilbur chasing Techno and Phil towards the left, but he didn't have enough confidence to follow him into the bush.

Tommy had his communicator on hand if he did get lost, but he knew that the three of them would come back for him. Plus, they all know how to find ‘north,’ so they’ll be able to come back and find him.

Tommy heard the three of them running around and he smiled. This was good for them. They were always so concerned with Tommy and Tubbo getting to have the last of their childhood--they were teens thank you very much--that they never had fun themselves. But even before the Fallout, Tommy found it weird that adults never seemed to play.

“Is he still behind us?” Phil’s voice broke out through the trees.

Tommy smiled and turned back to camp. If he wanted to, he could try to get back on his own, but he had no confidence and couldn’t even remember how to get back to the path Wilbur had carved.

Tommy then heard loud laughter from Techno.

He wasn’t quite sure, but he figured that Wilbur had caught them from the sounds of the woods. He waited around a little longer, then to his left he saw Techno and Phil coming through the tall grass.

“Hi!”

The two of them were still laughing and Phil raised a hand to wave. Phil carved the path forward and on the second to last step, he tripped over himself and fell to his face. Techno doubled over in laughter, and Tommy giggled--still looking around for Wilbur.

When Techno and Phil reached Tommy, a smiling Wilbur came out of the woods on Tommy’s right.

He ruffled Tommy’s hair and the four of them started to make their way back to the camp and Tubbo.

“You know,” Wilbur said. “When you asked if I was still behind you, I was about an arms length away. If I just reached out my arms I would have caught you.”

“But you didn’t,” Techno taunted lightly. “You know we were on our back in the trees when you spotted us. If we were in the trees you would have never caught us.”

“But you weren’t,” Wilbur sang back.

Tommy laughed, and lagged behind, walking the path behind them. It wasn’t fair to them, but the dynamic was very much split into Tommy and Tubbo; and Techno, Wilbur, and Phil; but that didn’t matter because it worked, and they never had any problems crossing over.

“Tubbo!”

“Tommy!”

“Hello!”

“Hello!”

“Who’s hungry?” Phil asked, walking around them to grab the pan and lard. “I’m going to cook something up.”

Phil occupied himself making dinner while Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy all piled into the hammock and made faces at Tubbo, who was taking pictures with the Polaroid camera they’d found and sourced film for. It had cost them a lot back then, but everyone was in agreement that it was worth it just to keep the memories.

They all gathered around the campfire to eat. It was tradition, a little family dinner thing that they couldn’t help continue even in the warm months when they didn’t need to huddle for warmth.

The movies had lied in that regard. When the Fallout happened, it was the middle of winter. The dead of winter. When everything was at its coldest and wouldn’t be warming up anytime soon. Just as many people died from the Fallout itself as they did from the heavy winter coating the majority of the world in the northern hemisphere.

“We should get moving,” Techno said once everyone was done eating. “Starting packing up.”

Tommy and Tubbo worked on taking down the hammock and putting it in a bag with the blankets. The two of them organized and zipped up all the bags, while Phil and Wilbur grabbed their hatchets and other items spread around their site from five days of comfortable use.

Then Techno froze.

Wilbur walked up to him in concern and heard him counting under his breath.

“Stop,” Techno muttered, still counting.

Wilbur froze as well.

“Pack up faster.” With that, Techno was moving forward towards whatever it was that he saw. One handed hatched in his hand, pocket knife in his pocket.

Wilbur turned back to the others with urgency. He trusted Techno with his life, if Techno said he had it covered, then he had it covered.

Phil on the other hand was way more concerned. He was immediately ready to go after hand. Hand instantly going to the knife holder on his belt. “I’m going after him.”

“No,” Wilbur shut him down. “No you aren’t. He wants us to leave. Techno can handle himself.”

“I know, but--”

“He told us to wait.”

“Okay,” Phil acquiesced.

There was a nervous energy in the air. Phil was pacing back and forth, looking in the direction that Techno ran off to. Wilbur was less lax about cleaning up the site. Tommy and Tubbo awkwardly bristled and waited to be told what to do.

“Should we leave and wait on the road?” Tommy asked, grabbing his designated bag and tying it around his waist.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said. “Wait no!” he corrected after Tubbo took a step towards the road. “No. You guys can’t defend yourselves. We don’t know how many there are, stay with the group.”

“Ok.”

The tension lasted a couple more seconds and then Techno was darting back towards them. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” he muttered running past them down the path.

“Go!” Wilbur said.

Tommy and Tubbo ran after Techno upon command. If Techno was cursing then something was horribly wrong.

Once they were sufficiently in the middle between the campsite and the road, Techno stopped. “One armed. One not. Twenty feet,” he muttered to himself.

Tommy and Tubbo stopped next to him and waited for Techno to do whatever mental math he was doing. They both waited silently, both aware that things were not okay.

Wilbur and Phil appeared to their right with most of the stuff and dropped it on the ground next to the three of them, standing in the middle of the forest.

“Techno?” Wilbur asked.

“Shh, he’s thinking,” Tommy said.

“One armed. One not. Twenty feet. Ten split.” Techno took a deep breath and finally noticed his friends. “Let’s get out. There’s that farm house down the road we noticed. I checked it out last night. It’s empty. We’ll stay there for a while. Lay low. Did you get all the stuff?”

“No, there are a few things left. Like your cape,” Wilbur said.

“Shit. I need that. We need to go back for it.”

Tommy grabbed Techno’s bag and moved out of the way for Techno to pass him.

“Phil, you stay with Tommy and Tubbo, wait for us.”

“Got it.”

Techno and Wilbur went back to the campsite. Tubbo grabbed Tommy's arm and dragged him forward. Tommy tripped slightly, as Tubbo was walking a little quickly for him, but Tommy knew better than to fight it.

Phil stood guard outside of the forest entrance, hand on his sheath. Tommy and Tubbo sat nervously where Phil had dumped his stuff down yet again. They had an idea, but hadn’t explicitly been told what was going on, and they honestly didn’t want the answer.

“We’re gonna be fine right?” Tommy asked.

“Of course,” Phil answered easily. “You’ve got Techno and I.”

Tommy nodded, mind eased for the time being.

Techno and Wilbur jogged out of the forest with everything else.

“One armed. One not,” Techno continued to mutter.

“Techno?”

“It’s nothing Tommy. It’s fine. I just saw two other people.” He took a calming breath, handing Phil the larger axe that they had.

Tommy took that as his cue to grab Phil’s bag and throw it over his free shoulder.

“They were walking through the woods. Followed Phil’s path. Saw us and got scared--same as me--wondered what other people were doing there.”

“We should get out of the open,” Wilbur advised.

“Yeah. Good idea. Tommy, you don’t mind carrying my bag?”

“Nope.”

“Tubbo, could you grab the pan? The three of us will stay back. You two get to the farm house.”

Tubbo nodded, as if he was pulled back into the moment by being addressed directly. He grabbed the pan and turned abruptly, making his way back to the building they’d seen five days ago.

Wilbur had kept his stuff, holding a hatchet.

Tubbo walked very quickly as far away as possible; Tommy was slower, but still was walking at a brisk pace. It’s a little hard to be quick when you’ve got three bags, but adrenaline is one hell of a drug.

Tubbo and Tommy reached the house first and dropped everything on the porch. Tubbo wrapped his arms around Tommy and took deep breaths.

Tommy didn’t quite know what to do, but he was perfectly happy to receive hugs.

Wilbur passed them to go source some water for everybody. Techno scouted the house one more time. Phil sat on the porch silently.

“Is everything okay?” Tommy asked once more

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. We’re safe.”

Tommy nodded, his heartbeat calming down. When he grabbed his water bottle from Wilbur, he was weirded out to see it shaking in his hand. That’s not something he ever remembered happening before. It was honestly probably impossible that he’d never gotten an adrenaline rush in his life, but this was the first time he remembered.

“My hand is shaking,” he noted.

“Yeah. That’ll happen,” Techno reassured. “Gimme your wrist.”

“I’m fine.”

“Give.”

Tommy decided to not fight it and presented his wrist.

Techno grabbed it and pressed his thumb into Tommy’s pressure point. “Yeah. Adrenaline. Normally you’d have five milligrams, but you’ve got twenty right now.”

“Oh shit.”

“Don’t worry. It’s normal.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

Tommy somehow got Tubbo to bring their hug to a seated position on the porch.

“We’re okay,” he said.

“We’re okay,” Tubbo agreed, quieter.

Everyone came around for a group hug on the wooden deck, warm arms and bodies bring the cuddle pile down to the floor.

“We’re okay.”

[merakiaes]

Meeting The Shelbys - Finn Shelby

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Requested:  Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: I probably didn’t make her as shy as you wanted, but I hope it’s alright anyways. Let me know what you think!

Wordcount: 1694

Summary: First time meeting Finn’s family.

“What if they don’t like me.” You whined as Finn dragged you along down the grimy, muddy street, his hand holding onto yours tightly as if to keep you from running away.

He only raised an eyebrow at you, not really seeing what all the fuss was about. Not that you’d expect him to, in the first place. He wasn’t the outsider who was currently on his way to meet his significant other’s gangster family.

“I love you, so why wouldn’t they?” He questioned, as if it was that simple, to which you just scoffed.

“Because I’m a fucking snob, Finn.”

He slowed down his pace, halting in his pulling on your arm and coming to walk by your side instead. “Snob or no snob.” He mused, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “You already talk, fight, drink and fuck like a Shelby whenever you’re with me, so it’s not going to be hard for you to win them over.”

Your eyes widened at his words, looking around in panic to see if someone had heard him, a blush rising to your cheeks and hand coming out to slap his chest out of instinct. “Finn!” You scolded, to which he only laughed.

“What? It’s true, innit?” He raised a careful hand to your head, brushing away some of your curls to inspect one of the many lovebites he’d left on your throat the night before, that you had so desperately tried to cover with concealer to make a good impression on his family.

He smirked. “Leave me absolutely knackered every fucking night, you do. Don’t know where you get all that energy from.”

You could only glare, but still, you couldn’t deny the feeling of your heart picking up speed in your chest. “Don’t let them hear you say that. They’ll think I’m just some common whore.”

“You are for me, though, aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow simply, smirk only widening.

You scoffed, turning to face back forward as the blush quickly spread from your cheeks to your neck and ears. “Do you want me to hit you?”

He shrugged from your side, clearly having fun with flustering you. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You snapped, keeping your gaze forward and doing your best attempt at hiding the obvious affect he had on you by rubbing your arm with his thumb.

“How could I ever forget when you remind me every day?” He chuckled, to which you only gave yet another scoff.

“I hate you.” You muttered.

He poked your side sneakily, shaking his head. “No, you love me.”

A sigh left your lips. “Unfortunately.”

“And I love you, which is why I know they will, too.” He leaned in and pecked your cheek, before yet again pulling you forward hastily as his aunt’s home came into view. “Now come on, we’re here.”

As he walked inside without knocking, you could feel your heart beating harder and harder in your chest the further into the house you got, jumping when the door slammed shut behind you.

You might have been very daring and unafraid in Finn’s presence, but that was just because he had been a shy, flustered mess when you’d first met him, the only person you’d ever met who was shyer than yourself, which gave you the opportunity to finally dominate something. This something being him and your relationship, that is.

But with other people, you were different. Especially strangers. When you, on the rare occasion, met someone under the same circumstances as you had with Finn, them being shyer than you, you were able to show some more confidence and forwardness.

But when it came to rough, intimidating people who just radiated confidence and power wherever they walked, you would crawl back into your shell and stay in the shadows to your best ability to avoid making a fool of yourself.

Today, however, you couldn’t do that, as you were the sole reason for this family dinner, Finn having insisted that you finally meet his family, as he had yours.

Your dad was a very wealthy, respected man, and had always been on good terms with the Peaky Blinders, offering his help in form of protection, security and finance whenever he was needed. This probably should have made you at ease with the whole situation at hand, but you were absolutely shitting yourself.

The second the unfamiliar voices reached your ears you stopped in your tracks, forcing Finn to stop as well as he was still holding onto your hand.

He gave you a questionable glance, and you instantly brought your free hand to rub your arm, cowering back slightly. “Maybe this wasn’t a very good idea.”

“What are you talking about? Come on.”

He tried to tug on your arm, but you just shook your head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

A loud laugh came from the room next to you, and you involuntarily flinched, causing Finn to grow even more confused.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. Your father’s helped us for years.” He was confused.

“Yeah, but that’s him.” You answered in a slightly whiny tone. “He’s strong. He can handle himself.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at this, turning around fully and grabbing your upper arms softly, looking down at you. “You don’t seriously think any of my family would try to hurt you, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You quickly shook your head. “But I just… I don’t want them to dislike me.”

“They won’t.” He reassured you, opening his mouth to speak again. However, before he could get another word out, a loud voice yelled out from the other room.

“Finny boy, is that you?!”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek lightly as Finn gave you a comforting look, taking you by the waist and beginning to steer you to what you guessed was the dining room. And this time you didn’t stop him, hesitantly following his steps as you walked toward the source of the loud voices, his whole family appearing into sight only seconds later.

You were spotted almost immediately as you entered the room, a man with slicked back, blonde hair instantly rising to his feet from the table where all of the Shelbys were already seated, obviously drunk off his head, holding out his arms in a dramatic gesture.

“Ah!” He yelled. “There’s the lass! And she’s a looker, too. Good job, Finny!”

Your eyes widened slightly at his loud voice and behavior, which one of the other men at the table instantly caught. “Oh, sit down, would you, John? You’re scaring her away before she’s even made it through the doorway.”

He then turned to you, blue eyes inspecting you closely, but not in a way that left you uncomfortable. “Please.” He motioned to the two empty chairs at the end of the table. “Have a seat.”

Forcing a nervous smile, you nodded softly, thanking him quietly and instantly scolding yourself in your head for how pathetic you sounded.

Finn pulled out your chair for you to sit down, beside a woman whom you could only guess was their aunt Polly, before sitting himself down beside you, his hand instantly finding yours under the table as he could practically feel the anxiety radiating form your body.

Introductions were made, putting names to all of the new faces, and soon, you were all eating and chatting. Obviously, however, most of the chatting came from John and Arthur, the two not having stopped teasing their baby brother since you sat down.

You didn’t say much, really only speaking when spoken to, but as minutes passed, and with some help from Finn’s thumb tracing your knuckles, you started feeling more at ease, seeing that they were actually just as much of a family as yours, and taking note of the way they obviously tried to keep family and business apart.

Ada was for most part who actually tried to spark up conversations with you, asking about your interests and life.

Polly and Tommy joined in some of the times, pitching in to ask about your father and his business once or twice, while Arthur and John, who were both drunk even though it was barely six in the afternoon, seemed to stay out of the small talk, cutting right to the case and asking about your sex life, much to Polly’s dismay.

Their teasing had left you a flustered mess within the half hour, and Finn was beyond annoyed, snapping at his older brothers to cut it out every time they would start to tease you again.

As they tried for what seemed to be the hundredth time, Tommy finally set his foot down, metaphorically speaking. “Alright, you two.” He addressed his brothers, letting the chicken bone in his hand drop down to the plate. “That’s enough for now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur only waved him off, before turning to look at Finn at her side, the boy fuming by now. “Picked a quiet one, ay, Finn?”

Before Finn got the chance to answer however, you heard your own voice cut through the air, before the words had even processed in your head.

“Well, it’s not easy to get a word in edgewise when you never stop talking, now, is it?”

While Finn’s lips instantly pulled into a smug smirk, the boy leaning backwards slightly, putting an arm around the backrest of your chair, the others had gone completely silent, which made you realize what you had just said.

Your face flushed red at the realization, opening your mouth to start apologizing. But before you could, everyone started laughing, save Arthur who was still looking flabbergasted.

“I like you.” Polly chuckled, offering the girl a smirk much like the one who was currently etched onto her boyfriend’s face.

John reached over and gave Finn a brotherly shove, still laughing loudly. “Ye, little brother. You did good. You did good.”

And from that moment on, you didn’t fear the Peaky Blinders any longer, instantly relaxing when they confirmed their fondness of you and welcomed you into their family. Just like Finn had said they would.

[xfandomwritingsx]

And The Devil Makes Three – Billy Butcher

-gif source-

Description: Years after Butcher abandoned you, he finds out he left you with more than the thought he did.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Heartbreak. If you’re looking for a happily ever after, this ain’t it. Mentions of sex and pregnancy. Reader has a named son.  

Approx. Word Count: 2,500

A/N: First, I SUCK at accents and dialect so just… forgive me for Butcher not sounding like Butcher. Second, there is so much history between these two that doesn’t get explained and I’m sorry because it would be like a 10k long story if I did that and I just… can’t do it right now. Maybe another time. Third, I need more Billy Butcher. NEED.

You had been washing the dishes on a fucking Wednesday afternoon when your doorbell rang. It was mundane. It was ordinary. It was how you liked it now. But then you opened that damn door and the floor about came out beneath you as your stomach plummeted and your blood burned.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The rage in your voice is clear as a bell. Billy fucking Butcher turns around to face you instead of the rag tag team of men on your doorstep. The faded look on his face is replaced with a forced smile as your eyes meet.

“Hello, love.”  

You slam the door in his face. You hear muffled voices through the door and then a delicate, but very persistent knocking on the wood.

“Please,” Frenchie calls from the other side. “We won’t be long! Just let us in and talk to us for a few minutes! That’s it. Then we’ll leave you alone.” His knocking continues through his entire plea. A mixture of inconvenient curiosity and concern of what your neighbors will think cause you to throw the door open again.

“Five minutes,” you snap at them before walking away from the door, leaving them to shuffle in behind you and follow you to your living room. “The hell are you doing here?” Your bitterness is aimed at Butcher and judging by the way he doesn’t meet your eyes, he knows it.

“We just need some information,” M.M. Speaks first, softly. There’s something about his tone that doesn’t quite sit well with you, like he’s afraid to speak to you. Sure, you weren’t exactly welcoming to them on your doorstep, but your grudge wasn’t with all of them. Just the one. “I know you got out of the game and you don’t want anything to with us, but we could use your help.” You scoff loudly and cross your arms over your chest just to make sure you didn’t punch anyone, specifically the asshole in the leather jacket, currently wandering aimlessly around your living room while the others stayed politely near you.  

“Is that what you told them?” you ask coldly. “That I left?” M.M. And Frenchie exchange a confused look before looking back at Butcher. You haven’t felt like this in years. You hate it.

“I told them you were out of the game and moving on.” He says it so plainly, like it was the whole truth and you snap.

“You left! You fucked me one night and the next morning you were just gone. Ghosted me with a half-assed note about how it was better this way or some shit!” You turn your attention back to M.M. and Frenchie. “He ever tell you that?” The shell shocked looks on their faces clearly say he did no such thing. “He decided I was out of the game. He kicked me to the curb.”

“Yeah well, looks like it worked out pretty well for ya, didn’t it?” You turn sharply to glare at him and see he’s got one of the photos that was on your mantle in his hand, holding it up for you to see. A cold dread rushes down your spine and your anger subsides for a moment.

In his hand is a photo of you and a young boy with dark hair that looks a little too much like the man standing in front of you. Butcher’s eyes are hard and unreadable. You wait for him to say something, to do anything just so you can move past the cold fear that’s slowly making you shrink down.

“Everyone get the fuck out now.” Your tone, though it waivers in the tiniest way, leaves no room for argument and the two men next to you seem ready to hang their heads and leave. But the new guy who followed them in, the doe-eyed young fella filled with optimism so sweet it makes you sick, steps towards you, briefly touching your elbow to bring your attention to him. You flinch at his touch and he withdraws quickly.

“Please, Miss…” he struggles to try and find your last name in his memory. He senses your impatience and moves on without it. “All we need is a name.”  

“Kid, I don’t know who you are, but you’re hanging with the wrong crowd.” His eyes drop to the floor, defeat slowly coming over him too. “My advice? Leave before he abandons you like a sick dog too.”  

“Told you she wasn’t gonna help,” Butcher says, an air of confidence in his voice that brings your anger flooding back over the fear. He gently puts the picture back and ushers all his boys back towards the front door.  

You don’t move from your spot, don’t walk them out, don’t do anything except stand there squeezing your arms over your chest and willing them all to go away. When you hear Butcher say, “I’ll follow in a minute,” your heart sinks. You don’t want to do this. Not now, not ever.  

His face is a stone when he stalks back into your living room, his own rage and confusion masked behind a blank expression that pierces through you. It threatens to make you feel guilty. You refuse to let him have that control over you, not anymore. You stare right back at him, waiting for his first move.

“How old is he?” There’s no question who he’s asking about

“It doesn’t matter.” You don’t have the patience to play dumb, but you’ll be damned if you make this easy on him. Your defiance breaks a little of his façade.

“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” he growls. “How old?”

“He turned three last month.” Your nails dig into the skin on your arm through the thin fabric of your sweater.

“Fucking hell!” He runs a hand over his face, his mind doing the quick and easy math to arrive at the answer he already knew. You let a little bit of your anger bubble past the surface.

“You don’t get to be fucking angry,” you snap at him. “You made your choice to walk away from me and anything and everything that came with me.”  

“It’s not like I knew you’d end up fucking pregnant!” He takes a step towards you and even though he’s still across the room from you, it feels like he’s too close. You finally release your arms, letting them flail up in an agitated fury.

“What difference does it make it if I ended up with a kid or not?”  

“He’s fucking mine, innit he?”

“No!” you scream at him, something within you snapping. Years of anger and resentment flooding out. “He’s mine. He is mine and no one else’s.” Your screaming drops to a deadlier tone. “I went through the pregnancy alone. I went through labor and nearly dying when I gave birth alone. I did the sleepless nights, the diaper changes, my fucking recovery, his entire three years of life all alone. He is mine.” You point your finger into your chest even though the emphasis is unneeded. Your fingers on your other hand have curled into a fist, squeezing into a white knuckled grip around themselves.  

“He’s got my blood,” Butcher says slowly. You shake your head.

“That doesn’t make you his father.”

“Legally, sweetheart, it does.” He tilts his head and that sickly sweet, better-than-you voice he uses makes you bark out a bitter laugh.  

“What, Butch?” you ask, utterly amused. “Are you going to take me to court?” He flinches back just the slightest bit and it gives you a sick twist of pleasure. “Want to stand in front of a judge and explain why your lifestyle is so conducive to raising a child?”

“Yeah well maybe it coulda been had I fucking known.” His eyes are still hard and angry, but they falter and look away from you for just a moment.

“I saved you,” you tell him slowly. “I saved you the struggle and the guilt of saying you’re going to be there for us and then not following through because you can’t let go of your crusade. I saved him a lifetime of where’s daddy? and why isn’t daddy here?” You feel the sadness creeping back in and the tears you thought were over years ago start to well back up, your heart breaking all over again. “I saved him from looking out a window, watching you leave and wondering why he isn’t good enough for you.”  

There’s a short silence where his eyes soften and you know your words hurt him. Not because they’re mean, but because they’re true. His eyes keep flitting to the pictures in the room, looking at the boy he doesn’t know. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“You didn’t even give me the choice.” It sounds more pained than he meant it to, his anger melting away.  

“Kind of like how you didn’t give me a choice in leaving?” There’s still a little bite in your voice, but you try to subdue it. “What did you want me to do? Call the phone you’d already ditched? Go to the safe house you’d already burned? Did that.” You pause, considering if you should tell him the next bit. You feel yourself starting to tremble and without thinking about it, you find yourself walking towards him. “You think I should have tracked you down? I did.” Your voice is much softer now as you get closer. “I had your confirmed location in one hand and a pregnancy test in the other.” You put your hands out as if you’re still holding those items and the emotions of that day come flooding back. “And the moment that stick read positive, it was over. I threw out that piece of paper with your address on it and I never looked back.” You feel tears spill onto your cheeks and you try to not break down. Butcher won’t look at you, actively keeping his eyes anywhere else. “Tell me I made the wrong choice,” you whisper, not even sure what kind of reaction you’re hoping for.  

“What’s his name?” he asks instead, his own voice quiet. You roll your eyes and shrug your shoulders.

“Why?” You hate how defeated you sound. “What does it matter?” He clenches at your words and he rolls his neck in the smallest circle before looking back to you.

“C’mon, just…” he starts harshly, but falters when he sees you. His hand reaches up and his thumb strokes across the tear streak on your cheek. “Just give me that?” There’s a desperation in his voice that makes you ache.

“Ollie,” you finally tell him. “Short for Oliver.” His brow furrows and his lips tilt up in just the slightest way. When you involuntarily smile, you realize his hand is still hovering near your face. “I remembered you liked that name.” He sighs, giving in and letting his hand cradle your cheek gently. You want to push him away, but instead you find yourself melting into his touch.

“You’re such a bitch.” It’s said without malice and he stops trying to withhold his smile.

“So are you,” you say without missing a beat. He leans in to be closer to you and your hands find the edges of his leather coat, the zipper teeth biting into your hands.  

“I do miss that spitfire mouth of yours,” he admits.

You hate how much you miss him, how easily he can make you want to forget every awful thing he’s ever done. You told yourself for years that what you had was a one-night stand, that neither of you cared for the other. And then he shows up and unravels the delusion you held onto in order to keep yourself sane.  

“Why’d you do it, Billy?”  It’s the question that’s been burning at the back of your throat since he left. He grimaces and lowers his eyes to the floor.

“You needed out. You were ready to move on from all of it.” He leans down further, presses his forehead to yours and groans. “But you weren’t gonna leave me. And you… God dammit, you deserved more.” He pulls himself away from you and leaves the space in front of you cold. He starts pacing your living room again, footsteps heavy. “You wanted the white picket fence bullshit. And I wanted ya to have it.” He stops, facing away from you and brings his hand over his face. “I didn’t intend on fucking ya.” There’s an honesty there that you know he doesn’t like showing. “I was going to say goodnight and leave your room and just be gone. But then…”

But then you had grabbed his hand and asked if everything was alright and before you knew it, his lips were crashing down to yours and you were both tumbling back into your motel bed, years of bottled up passion and feelings pouring out. It had been the happiest you had felt in years. Until you woke up the next morning and it all came crashing down.

“Do you regret it?” you ask softly. “Any of it?” He pauses before answering, approaching your mantle once more.  

“Do you?” The bastard could never just answer a question. His fingers trace a frame that’s holding a picture of Ollie’s school picture.

“I don’t regret him.” It’s not a direct answer but it needs to be said. He nods firmly to himself before turning away and walking back towards your front door.

“They’re waiting on me,” he says gruffly, a flimsy excuse to make his exit. You follow him this time, not wanting him to leave yet.

“Butcher,” you stop him with his hand on the knob, but you can’t think of a single thing to say. There’s really nothing more left to discuss. It’s not like he’s going to stay and you sure as shit aren’t going to ask him to. So you sigh and ask instead, “What information did you guys need?” He puts his fake smile back on.

“Don’t worry about it, love.” He straightens out and his eyes clear, slipping back into business. “I told ‘em not to come here anyways. Was still trying to push them off your porch when you answered the door.”

“Look, if it’ll help you finish all of this then I’ll give you the information I have.” You shrug casually, but he sees right through it and catches that hopeful glint behind it. He shrinks again and his voice gets low, regretful.

“You know when this is finished… I probably won’t still be around.” You press your lips together and nod, the hope squashed right out of you. He was going to finish this plan even if it killed him. And it probably would. Watching the ground, you hear him open the front door. “Take care of the little bugger. I’ll make sure no one comes to bother you again.”

And just like that, he’s gone again, leaving you just as alone as he did last time.

[whentommymetalfie]

Breathe Again -Chapter eight

-Be where you are-

prologue//one//two//three//four//five//six//seven

The story has some art now!

Chapter summary: Alfie makes a call and shares some of his findings with Tommy afterwards. He probably should’ve chosen his words more carefully. 

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Warnings: hallucinations, disordered eating, mentions of attempted suicide

Wordcount: 4100

“-And Michael Gray is apparently head of the company. Seems like Shelby has stepped down from that position. Though word is he’ll still be involved in some capacity once he gets back,” Ollie finishes off the rather lengthy and somehow still useless status report from Birmingham. Well, mostly useless.

“From his, what was the word, extended leave of absence?” Alfie grunts.

Ollie’s hums and then goes quiet.

Alfie waits.

“So, is that all, then?” he finally asks.

Silence. He can almost hear Ollie’s confused frown.

“Is there… supposed to be something else, Mister Solomons?”

“No, there’s- just keep your ear to the ground, alright?”

Thankfully Ollie has learned not to question him by now. Well, mostly. So he promises to do that, without asking about the sudden interest in the Shelby family’s every move.

When Alfie hangs up, he has to just sit there in the study for a moment to let all of it sink in. Figure out what to do with this information. But when he eventually goes to search out Tommy, he still hasn’t quite decided what to do.

….

Knowing Esther is in the kitchen, he follows his gut and finds them both there: Esther doing the dishes and Tommy sitting by the table with his blanket in his lap and a mug of tea in front of him. No food, of-fucking-course. But he leaves that business up to Esther now -anything to save himself from repeating yesterday’s display, really. And yeah arguably he didn’t handle it in the best possible way but what can really be expected of him? To stand there and hold Tommy’s fucking hair while he throws up whatever meagre portion he’s managed to eat? That’s where he draws the line. And really Esther seems to be far more capable in this department so it’s probably for the best to leave the food issue up to her. And it must be Esther who’s placed the teaspoon of honey next to the tea mug. He’s got no idea what that is supposed accomplish, but again, not his problem anymore.

Instead he gets in Tommy’s line of sight to catch his attention.

“So, you fancy a walk then, eh? About time for one of those before we lose the last bit of daylight, if you can call it that, what with there being a distinct lack of sun today.”

Tommy nods and Alfie raises both eyebrows, making him clear his throat and muster a quiet, “Yes.”

Alfie nods his approval and gestures towards the spoon.

“Go on then, try to swallow that down and come along.”

What happened to staying out of anything food related?

Tommy just eyes the spoon suspiciously.

Thankfully Esther steps in.

“It’d be good for you, Tommy,” she says and glances over her shoulder from the sink, smiling encouragingly. She treats him as if he is made out of glass. And  maybe he is. “It’ll just melt in your mouth, you’ll barely feel it.”

Tommy picks up the spoon, and someone up there must really have it out for Alfie because he sticks his tongue out andlicksit hesitantly, before apparently deciding it’s acceptable and putting the whole thing into his mouth. And how is Alfie supposed to look at those lips and not be overcome by confusing feelings and have his belly coil tightly and fill with heat?

And then Tommy takes the spoon out and his tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip.

Alfie turns around and leaves, barking some order for Tommy to hurry the fuck up.

…

Once they’re outside, he does his level best to focus on absolutely everything except Tommy for a while, making observations about the trees and the weather and telling him an entirely made up story about how a large enough group of crows could technically carry a live dear through the air.

Tommy smokes and seems uncharacteristically focused, eyes fastened on Alfie and listening with what could almost be something akin to actual interest. Which makes Alfie deem this an appropriate time to bring up the phone call. He’s not entirely sure what the purpose is. Or rather, he’d rather not admit said purpose to himself; it’s some impulse that’s lodged inside of him that just can’t help poking and prodding at Tommy’s fragile psyche and see what will happen…

“So, I had an interesting phone conversation earlier,” he says once Tommy has finished his first cigarette. “Had a word with a reliable source about the situation in Birmingham. And it would seem that you, mate, would you fucking believe, are on an extended leave of absence.” He looks over to Tommy to gauge the reaction. Tommy’s eyes shift to the ground as he shoves one of his hands into his pocket and starts picking at the buttons on the coat with the other.  

“At least that’s the official story. Nothing wrong at all, you’re just having some well earned time off. Meanwhile that cousin of yours is in charge.”

Tommy fishes out another cigarette and the lighter.

“Yeah, they seem to be doing just fine, from what I���ve heard,” Alfie says. Tommy’s hand trembles ever so slightly as he lights the cigarette. “And alright, to be honest I find it a bit strange, don’t I? I can understand the need to keep up appearances, but… I feel like they’d have better luck actually finding you if more people knew, you know? If the police was involved, for example. Incompetent as they are you’d think they’d want to use every available resource.”

The smoke itself seems to tremble in the air as Tommy exhales another lungful. And for some reason it feels like a victory, finally seeing him react to something, anything besides his own thoughts and stuffed crows and invisible fucking voices.

“And I mean, they don’t know, right?” Alfie goes on. “They have no clue you’re here with me, out of harm’s way, mostly. No, as far as they know you could’ve been… kidnapped. Or lie dead in a ditch somewhere. So, really, I reckon that their first priority would be to find you, rather than, yeah, keeping up appearances. But clearly, our views differ there,” he has to pause to breathe, can feel himself getting riled up. “Because really, from the outside, it looks like they’re not looking for you at all.” He pokes and prods, can’t help himself for some reason- “Really must’ve done something to piss them off because, if you look at it from this angle, right, it’s as if you never even existed.”

-Pokes and tears at the remnants of Tommy’s mind, as if he’s looking through the pieces to find something, anything of the old him hidden in there somewhere, something that will make him protest. Always used to bite where his family was concerned.

Used to.

Now he just keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the ground and pulls in more smoke that he exhales in that same, shaky breath. Timid and meek and won’t even look him in the fucking eye- And it’s that, innit? That fragile, confusion, as if he’s made of thin, thin glass that could shatter at any moment, that evokes strange feelings he didn’t ask for… And how, how is it that no one in that fucking family is out there looking for him? That he’s got fucking no-one, that it’s all suddenly resting on Alfie’s fucking shoulders?

“Go on, Tommy? What’s changed?” he spits, harsher than he intended. “Always been like… rabid fucking dogs, your family, whenever one of you lot is threatened. But here you are, miles and miles away from home, meanwhile they’re living on as if nothing’s happened. Can’t tell me it doesn’t hurt a little.”  

Tommy shakes his head. Of course it fucking hurts. ¨And he should be angry… fucking livid.

He trails his fingers over the scar but Alfie leaves him be. Can’t be fucking bothered to take his hand away. And maybe he’ll grab onto him too hard and Tommy will shatter under his touch.  

“Though I suppose you’re not of much use to them anymore,” he says. “I mean you’re hardly in any shape to be fuckin’ running that bloody empire of yours.”

Tommy shakes his head and takes the cigarette from his lips, his hand is shaking so hard that it falls onto the damp ground. His fingers are still trailing along the scar.

“I know,” he says quietly. And it’s not the fucking answer Alfie wants. His pulse is quickening, he can feel it throb against his temple and he huffs out a laugh that comes out as mocking even to his own ears.

“Is that how you people operate, eh? You outlive your usefulness and then you’re discarded? Like some racehorse that’s broken its fuckin leg…”  

Tommy stops in his tracks and ducks his head, scratching lightly against the scar. Alfie stops too.

“Nothing works anymore,” he whispers and seems to shrink before his eyes. Alfie wants to shake him, wind a hand into his hair and fucking force him to look up, twist so hard that it hurts and that bleak sadness will crack up into pain instead, force him to fucking feel something. Do something- maybe struggle, fight back. He doesn’t grab Tommy. But what he does do is almost worse…

“Yeah that’s an understatement,” he snorts. “You’re properly fucking cracked in the head. Which is saying a lot considering the state it was in before. Maybe they felt like it wasn’t that much of a loss, eh?”

Tommy flinches as if he’s been hit. Curls inwards on himself.

“I know,” he says. “I know, I know-“ his voice turns into these quiet little whimpers and he squeezes his eyes shut as he begins scratching against the scar feverishly- Alfie pitches forward and grabs his wrist, tugs it away from his head.

“Alright, fuckin’ell, Tommy-“ he says, the guilt welling up so quickly that it smothers the anger. “Fuck, calm down-“

Fuck, you fucking fucking idiot-

“I can fix it,” Tommy gasps, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can- I promise, please, I’ll fix it- I just have to- have to get it out and- and-”

He swipes for Alfie like an alley cat and Alfie grabs onto his other wrist and tugs them both against his chest. A knee comes up and narrowly misses his crotch and he has to fight the instinct to put his fist into Tommy’s face for that. Instead he takes both of the bony wrists into one hand, pins them against his chest and wraps the other arm around his back, tugging him close enough to remove his leverage. Tommy squirms and makes those awful, half choked noises that sound less like a human and more like an injured animal, but Alfie just holds onto him.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says. “Don’t have to fucking fix anything. They’re not worth all of this.”

There’s another moment of frantic struggle before Tommy suddenly stops, pushing his forehead against Alfie’s chest instead and pulling air frantically in through his nose. His whole body is shaking.

“Fuck ‘em,” Alfie repeats, trying to soften his voice. “Alright? You hear that?”

Tommy says nothing, but stays right where he is. His breaths come out in hot little bursts against Alfie’s chest and his pulse is racing underneath his fingers but he’s finally still. Alfie keeps holding the arm around his back but loosens the grip around his wrists. Cold fingers wind themselves into his coat as Tommy pushes himself closer, face still buried in his chest. Right then it feels like the only thing holding him together is the arm Alfie holds stiffly around him.  

He leans in just a little bit. Tommy smells like soap and smoke and something innately… Tommy that he can’t quiet put his finger on.

“What the hell have you done to yourself, eh, Tommy? What’s so awful about all of this that you can’t even thinkabout it?”

Tommy just shakes his head, but he’s still now. And the urgency of the position has faded, he becomes painfully aware that it’s far too close. He clears his throat and gives Tommy a shove, making him stumble backwards on unsteady feet, blinking and looking dazed.

“Right. We should… probably be heading back to the house,” he says and starts walking back along the path, thankfully hearing a pair of footsteps behind him.

Tommy is painfully quiet the entire walk home. Alfie’s gotten used to the silence by now, but this is different. Wrong.

“I’m sure they’re looking, alright,” he says once it finally gets to be too much. The silence, or the guilt. “Might not… Well, your family have a way of doing things without anyone noticing, don’t they? Probably worried sick about you- I mean, you’ve got- those kids, right? And that wife of yours. Yeah. I’m sure they’re looking.” His throat is all dry so he has to pause and clear it before continuing, “But it’s not like you actually want to be fucking found, from what I understand, so I don’t see why you have to get all upset about it.”

Fuck, that sounds fucking stupid even to his own ears.

Tommy says nothing.

Alfie gives up on talking for the rest of the walk, and doesn’t open his mouth until they’re finally inside again.

“Right, I’ll ask Esther to make some tea,” he says as he shrugs out of his coat. “And then we’ll see if pompous man number five will finally propose to that lady who complains a lot in the next chapter-“

He heads for the living room and only discover once he’s halfway there that Tommy hasn’t followed, but is instead veering off towards the guest room. Which he hasn’t entered willingly since Alfie dragged him out of bed four days ago.

“Oi, where are you going?”

“I’m tired,” Tommy says quietly without looking up, fingers clenched around the edge of the door. “I should sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah sure, but you can do that just fine in the armchair.”

“I shouldn’t be out of bed. The doctor says I have to rest.“

He’s got that glazed look in his eye, Alfie just barely catches it before he slinks into the bedroom, leaving him standing there in the hallway with an alarming tightness in his chest.

He goes to pace in the living room, shoving tobacco into his pipe and lighting it. Tommy’s blanket is still in the armchair.

The footsteps approaching are too determined to belong to Tommy, who pads around the house like a kitten, and he barely has time to reflect on the fact that he does indeed recognize his footsteps by now, before Esther’s voice interrupts that thought.

“So, would you like some-“ She pauses. “Sir, where’s Tommy?”

Fuck. Just what he needed.

“He’s sleeping. Or, yeah, he’s in bed, alright?” He chooses not to turn around for no particular reason. It’s definitely not just to avoid seeing Esther’s disapproving look.

“He’s in bed?”

Alfie hums. “Yeah, so if you could just make some tea a that would be-“

Esther’s footsteps are disappearing down the hallway. Yeah. Fucking of course. He huffs out a puff of smoke and finds a cloud outside to fasten his gaze on, and vainly hopes that it’ll somehow distract him from the feeling currently settling like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach.

When Esther returns, he’s come up with no good excuses and done nothing except stare very intently at the same cloud.

“Did something happen while you were out?” she asks.

Alfie clears his throat and scratches his beard, watching the cloud be swept away by a gust of wind. “No, nothing that comes to mind, no.”

The silence is getting to him so he turns around. Esther is frowning. Doesn’t look angry, just worried, which makes the whole thing worse.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing about this is fucking ordinary,” Alfie grunts, wishing she’d launch into a lecture instead of looking so bloody worried. “What? He’s always acting fucking irrationally. Who knows what’s upset him this time. Maybe he just saw an… imaginary bird that made him sad for some goddamn reason.”

Esther nods thoughtfully, the frown deepening. “I’m going to make him some tea, but perhaps you could go and sit with him? I don’t think he should be alone.”

She leaves

Fuck all of this.

Alfie finds himself in his study again, staring at the phone.

One call.

The thing is he does actually believe Tommy’s family is worried. Who fucking wouldn’t be? It’d be fucking cruel not to be. Heartless. And heartless is hardly the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of the Shelbys. Ruthless perhaps. Arrogant and fucking cocky. But not heartless.

But despite the call to Ollie, he’s no closer to piecing together the gap between the failed assassination attempt and Tommy showing up at his doorstep. The only pieces he’s actually got is Tommy’s wrecked mental state and the scar. Clear enough that he’s tried to hurt himself, yeah, and done quite a good job of it too. Even after the phone call, there are too many pieces missing. But if that family of his was actually capable of even somewhat looking out for Tommy, he wouldn’t be in such a shit state.

Then again, Alfie is clearly failing spectacularly at that himself, looking after him.  

Ollie could come pick him up. They could pay someone else to drive the last bit, someone the Shelbys have no knowledge of, and deliver Tommy at the doorstep of that big mansion of his. Tommy is hardly in any shape to resist. Could even be a gentleman about it and make sure someone opens the door too, see to that Tommy is taken care of.

And he’d be rid of this problem. Maybe avoid doing more damage. Logically speaking, it’s the right fucking thing to do.

Alfie picks up the phone, puts a finger to the dial and stares at it.

Three digits in, he puts the phone back and leaves the study.

And soon he finds himself standing outside the guestroom instead, with Tommy’s blanket in one hand and the book in the other. He opens the door without knocking.

The small lump on the middle of the bed remains motionless as he crosses the floor

“Scoot over will you?” he says and plops down onto the mattress, narrowly avoiding just sitting down on top of said lump. Folding down the blanket, Tommy blinks up at him. Alfie tries to not linger on the red-rimmed eyes and the wet lashes because he doesn’t care for the implications. He gestures for him to move.

“Go on, give us some space here, eh?”

Tommy sits up, still looking almost comically surprised and moves over to the farthest edge of the bed. Alfie rolls his eyes as he starts building up a sufficient mountain of pillows against the headboard.

“Don’t have to fuckin’… sit on the floor now, do you? Some space I said. Which, given the usual standards would be somewhere around here. You know? That’s your half.” He gestures from the middle and out to the edge. Tommy still chooses to settle at the very edge, watching him with big, wary eyes.

Alfie tosses the blanket at him and leans back against the pillows, flicking the lightswitch on the lamp on the nightstand before perching his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Now, where were we? Somewhere around page… ninety I think.” He flips through the pages and watches out of the corner of his eye as Tommy wraps the blankets around his shoulders and settles back against the pillows, a tiny bit closer.  “Hm, yes, yes there we go. They’ve just arrived home after this whole… carriage debacle, yeah? Remember that? Very traumatizing event probably- Let’s see how they’ll possibly move on from that.”

He’s got Tommy’s full attention when he starts reading.

After three pages, Esther comes through the door. Alfie can see her eyes light up all the way from the bed, but she wisely forgoes commenting.

“Here’s some tea for you,” she says, addressing Tommy. “And a bit of soup. I thought you might be getting tired of the same old thing, so this one is potato and leek. But it’s nothing too different.” She sets the tray down on the nightstand on Tommy’s side of the bed. “Sometimes that can be difficult, new flavours and textures and all that.” She hands Tommy the mug, nodding towards the tray. “And there’s bit of that honey that seemed to go down alright earlier.”

Alfie doesn’t particularly care for the smile Esther shoots him as she leaves the room. As if she knows, or perhaps sees something he doesn’t…. On account of there being nothing to see or know, of course, so what business does she have, looking that way?

Going back to the book seems to be the safest bet to postpone all of those thoughts, and as he reads, Tommy obediently finishes almost all of the soup and then promptly occupies himself with the teaspoon full of honey, leaving it lingering between his lips for longer than what would be necessary.

“Can’t believe you can stomach that,” Alfie says and tries to not look to closely at his lips. “But who would’ve thought, eh? Tommy Shelby has a bit of a sweet tooth. Like a hummingbird.”

Tommy actually huffs at the comment, looking almost indignant.

“Yeah, yeah exactly like a hummingbird, in fact,” Alfie goes on. “See, they only eat nectar, don’t they, so they’re quite particular about their food. Tiny little things, too. Always moving about.” The imagery makes him chuckle. Tommy sucks on the spoon and he looks back down into the book. “There’s this myth, right, that if a hummingbird stops flying its heart will stop, but that’s of course bullshit, because no animal could function like that.”

Tommy narrows his eyes a little, giving the spoon one last lick before putting it back on the tray. He settles his head back against the pillow and turns onto his side, watching Alfie expectantly.

“I take it this conversation is over and you’d like to go back to the riveting story of… lawn discussions?” Alfie taps the cover of the book, but goes back to reading without expecting an answer.

One chapter later, Tommy’s head tips against his shoulder and it’s just pure luck that Alfie manages not to jolt in surprise. Tommy’s eyes are closed, long lashes resting lightly against his pale cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly and without a single one of all those sad, pained lines etched on his face.

Whenever Alfie sees him like this, he feels like maybe he’s not a complete disaster at this after all. If only for short moments at a time.

As carefully as he possibly can, he closes the book and slides off the bed. But he leaves the bedside light on as he leaves the room.

It feels strange to have a moment to himself, so he uses it wisely by smoking and listening to the radio for a bit, watching the sunset outside. There’s been no sun to speak of today, but a sliver of orange is visible right where the sky meets the sea.

Knowing Tommy is finally sound asleep in a proper bed does make him more relieved than it has any business to, because maybe this will mean he sleeps the entire night through? One can always hope.

But he’s barely finished that thought before quiet footsteps creak over the floor and he tries to not sigh audibly.

Tommy has brought his blanket and looks wary, eyes oddly wide and fingers wound tightly into the material. Alfie’s learned to notice that look by now. He reaches over and pats the armchair next to him.

Without a word, Tommy pads over and curls up in it, eyes still darting around the room.

“It’s just the radio, innit,” Alfie says. “That’s all.” 

Because he knows.

The explanation seems to relax Tommy a fraction, but he still finds himself getting out of his chair and going to turn the radio off.

As if it’s a perfectly normal and reasonable thing to do.

Then he picks up the book and settles into his armchair.

“Chapter twelve, I believe?”

And then he starts reading. Again.

When he feels the familiar tug at his shirtsleeve, he moves his arm a bit closer. As if that’s a completely normal and reasonably thing too. 

Tommy has closed his eyes again, his breathing already evening out.

Yeah. He might be shit at this, but he has his moments.

[bookofsummer]

Arctic Recovery 2 - Chapter 1

Taglist:  @isanyonetoknow

In the year 2035, there was an explosion over the North Pole. Some blamed it on climate change, others on government testing, and the kids all simply believed it was Santa, testing a new sleigh. 

And while the government was not the cause of the explosion, they did do a bang up job of getting involved with it as fast as they possibly could. What they found up there was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before, though there are definitely those who would claim otherwise.

What they found up there was a ship. Crashed and burning, with two creatures who are very similar to humans, and yet definitely, absolutely not human. 

In the year 2035, an alien ship crash landed on earth. Two subjects were recovered, both severely injured, one only barely clinging to life, and they were brought to the fabled Area 51 to recover, and to be observed.

What was left of the ship was brought to a bright, well seasoned mechanic named Brennan Saddler, an early grad at the top of his class, a well known name among those who need work done on vehicles of all genres. Brennan’s touched on all makes of cars, and planes, even handled a rocket ship or two, and when the remains of an alien vessel were discovered he was the first choice to bring in to try and piece it back together. 

Only issue with that plan is that, after three days of combing through the pieces, and placing them in their spots like a jigsaw puzzle, Brennan realized he had no idea what fueled the thing, or even what exactly it was made out of. Obviously alien, which was very cool, Brennan has quite a few sessions of just laughing as he marveled the pieces, however it meant that he wasn’t sure how to put it back together.

Welding didn’t seem to work, glue would fizz and burn off of the stuff, there were two pieces that, when pressed together, simply seemed to stick that way, but no other pieces did the same. 

After another few weeks, he put in a request with the man who would check on him every day to see, and maybe try and speak, to the aliens who landed with the ship, maybe they would be able to give him more insight.

He was told that they would see what they could do, and for a month he waited, toying with the pieces, eventually he even found a box among the wreckage that was actually fully intact. A box about the size of a shoebox, with a blank screen on the front, with alien characters carved into it. He figured it must be some sort of black box, and he puts it in his office.

A month after he asks to see the aliens, they come back to him, tell him that one of them has died from their injuries, but they did get him a chance to meet with the other.

They stress to him that they’re not sure how intelligent, exactly, the alien is, he doesn’t communicate in any significant way, that they’ve found, at least, and it lowers Brennan’s hopes of finding anything out, but he needs to try.

It’s another three weeks after he’s given the news he’ll be allowed to see the alien before they actually go to any significant efforts to schedule a day for it, working at the speed of government, his mother would say. Finally they settle on a date.

After another month where he will have to wait.

So Brennan tries to focus on the ship. He can’t find any sort of obvious power source, he can’t figure out how the pieces go back together- well, he knows how they go together, just doesn’t have any way of making it stay- and all he’s got is that silver box with the screen.

He drops it onto his desk, in the back corner of the workshop one day, and he looks it over, finger grazing along the… metal? For some sort of seam or seal where the thing opens, but it is, astonishingly, seamless. The screen is the only thing on there that signifies that the thing is anything more than a hunk of… well metal.

So he breaks out the tools. Hammer first, but no matter how hard he hits it it doesn’t leave a dent, not even on the screen. Next he goes at it with a drill and a sizeable bit, but it only scratches the surface, never penetrates, and Brennan throws the box at a wall. He’s hoping that maybe, hidden inside that shoe-box sized piece of shit, is the blueprints or something to the damn ship, or something he can work with. He even calls up his friend who works construction and puts it under a jackhammer, but it still doesn’t budge. 

He’s about to throw it at another wall when the office door opens, and a woman in a pressed pantsuit is staring at him with wide eyes. He lowers the box, dropping it back to the desk, “Can I help ya?” He asks, rubbing a thumb at one of the scuffs on the box, only for it to wipe right off. He rolls his eyes at it, and turns to the woman, who seems to have been waiting until she had his full attention. 

“Hi, Brennan, right? Brennan Saddler?”

“Yeah, Yeah, that’s me.” He nods, wiping his hands on his jeans and offering her one for a shake, “You are?”

She looks at his hand with a look he could only describe as wary, and then steels herself before grabbing his hand and shaking it, “Doctor Jenna White, I’ll be acting as your monitor while you’re meeting with AR2, tomorrow.”

Brennan stares at her for a moment, then turns to look at the swimsuit calendar that’s tacked to the wall, “Shit, that is tomorrow innit?” He mumbles and sighs, “Finally, feel like I’ve been sitting here with my thumbs up my ass for months.” Dr. White doesn’t seem all that impressed by his metaphor, and her face twists a little at the idea of it. 

“Well, it is, in fact, tomorrow. I’ll be there to keep an eye on you and ensure that no… Confidential information makes its way to the public.” Jenna watches him, one finely plucked eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting an answer. Brennan just stares back for a long moment, before he ‘oh’s in realization she’s expecting a response.

“Yeah, no, definitely, the whole alien thing ain’t public, and I will hundred percent respect that. I ain’t planning on telling everybody I meet about the alien thing.”

Jenna nods, “Good. Now, as for today, I am here to introduce myself, and lay out for you the ground rules for your visit with AR2-”

“Wait, real quick, what in god’s name does AR2 stand for?”

“Arctic recovery two,” she explains, crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs in front of Brennan’s desk, “As it was recovered in the arctic, and it was the second one we registered, it is AR2.” She nods, and she folds her hands on her lap, “Now, the rules?” She gestures to the chair across from her, and Brennan heaves a sigh. Getting told what to do in his own damn office. He still does it, though.

The rules that Dr. White lays out for him basically sum up to three basic concepts, don’t go into the chamber, if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, don’t fucking touch the alien, and if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, and touch the alien, he will very likely face some serious consequences. Dr. White stresses that part.

So Brennan’s only choice is to speak to the alien through a pane of glass, and his chances of being able to swing that are extremely slim. However, he’s not stupid, he has a plan. Sure, they might not speak the same language, but that’s what visual aids are for.

After Dr. White takes her leave, Brennan digs his phone out and wanders around the ship, taking picture after picture. He snaps pictures well into the night to make sure he has every angle he could possibly get to try and communicate with the alien.

He finds himself wondering what it looks like, after midnight, when the exhaustion is starting to seep in but he isn’t ready to stop taking pictures yet. He digs through the debris to find what he believes was the seat the aliens used, and it’s… Fairly normal looking, at least to him. It looks like a plain ass chair, like in a car. It’s almost disappointing when he looks it over, and mocks up how the belt system was set up, and he figures out that the aliens had to have been humanoid for the set up it has.

Not that there’s anything wrong with them being humanoid, but he had been lowkey hoping for something much more interesting.

That night when he sleeps he dreams of cooler aliens.

His meeting is set for early afternoon, but he’s got himself ready to go, with a plan on how to try and communicate with pictures, by around eleven, a few hours early. When Dr. White shows up she seems legitimately surprised by his eagerness, but Brennan points out that he is, in fact, meeting an alien for the first time ever, and she seems to relax after that. She leads him outside to a sleek black car with dark windows, and a driver who holds the back door open for both of them. Brennan gives the guy a nod, and he nods in return.

“You know where to take us, Anthony,” Dr. White says toward the front seat as the driver, Anthony apparently, gets in. She gets a grunt for an answer, but it seems to be enough for her as she settles into her seat, gathering a clipboard from the pocket on the back of the seat to examine the papers.

Brennan doesn’t really have anything to distract him aside from his phone, but he somehow feels that would be inappropriate right now, so he just settles on taking in his surroundings. The car is dark inside as well, in fact Brennan can barely see out the windows aside from the front and the driver’s windows.

He looks over Dr. White, as well as he can without being creepy. She’s wearing another suit, except this time it’s with a sharp pencil skirt, just as prim as she had looked yesterday, though today it’s with legs out, which Brennan can respect, especially since she has some killer legs from what he can see. Her black hair is pinned up in a flawless bun and he finds himself wondering how she manages that as he runs a hand through his own mess of shoulder length hair. Dr. White, even as she’s reading and rubbing absently at her chin, gives off a solid air of poise.

It makes Brennan feel like one hell of a slouch, in a grease-stained t-shirt and jeans that are equally, if not more, grease-stained. Honestly, he’s a mess, but he’s basically a mess twenty-four-seven.

He finally takes his eyes off of her, and looks to the driver, Anthony. The man’s pretty built, though his face doesn’t give it away. He’s got a scruffy red beard that hides what could be a sharp jaw, or a soft jaw, Brennan can’t tell from here. Anthony is a bit tall, the top of his head almost brushing the roof of the car, his hair is gelled down, otherwise Brennan is sure it would make up the difference. His face is partially obscured by dark shades, so Brennan can’t pin down an eye color on the guy, but the red hair, and the freckles that Brennan can see peeking out from the man’s collar leads him to assume green. Perhaps brown? Who knows.

Brennan doesn’t get too much longer to think on it, because Anthony catches him staring in the mirror, and clears his throat to get his attention. Brennan jerks a bit, and his eyes dart to the dark window. His eyebrows drop and he glares at his reflection for a moment before rolling his eyes and turning to Dr. White again. “How far is this place, anyways? I thought I was on site here?”

“You are. It’s a big campus, Mr. Saddler.” Dr. White replies without looking up from her papers, at least not at first. She finally looks up at him, “Area 51 spans over twenty-thousand acres of land, over thirty square miles. You can be on-site, and still be a five minute drive, Mr. Saddler.” She gets this smirk on her face that makes Brennan smirk in return, and she hugs the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll be there in just a few moments. In all reality, you could have walked here, but that wouldn’t be very hospitable of us, would it?” She smiles at him, and the car comes to a stop. She waits as Anthony gets out, comes around and opens her door for her.

She steps out, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement of the parking lot as she steps away from the car, and turns back to Brennan, waiting for him.

He takes a moment to swallow, and he finally follows her out of the car. Once she seems to be sure he’s following, she turns, and heads toward the building at the end of the lot. She scans a badge at the door and holds it open for him, she leads him to a desk where they both sign in, and she makes small talk with the woman behind it as Brennan scribbles down his information. He sets down the pen, smiles at the woman behind the desk, her nametag says Rebecca, and he turns to follow Dr. White.

Dr. White scans her badge at another set of doors, and Brennan follows her through the halls. It looks like a standard lab, full of beakers and test tubes with unrecognizable substances in them. She leads him down a hall, and then another, and then another and another until they finally reach an elevator. She scans her badge again, they step inside, and they go down. Down so far that Brennan starts to wonder if this isn’t all an elaborate ruse to throw him into a volcano or something because he’s asked for too much from them. 

The doors open, and there’s no volcano, however there is another hallway, which makes Brennan heave a sigh. Dr. White leads the way, and thankfully enough they go into the third door on the left, because Brennan was sure that if she had taken him down another hallway he may have actually screamed. 

Thankfully, they’ve reached their destination, and Dr. White explains to him that the only thing standing between him, and his attempt to get answers, is the door on the other side of the room.

He thanks her, and he starts to head for the door, but he pauses before he even lifts his hand to touch the handle, because he realizes, this is it. He’s about to see an alien.

On the other side of this door is a creature from a world that’s so far away Brennan can barely process it, and he’s about to walk in there, and try to use pictures on his phone to try and figure out how the thing’s ship works. He’s about to try to talk to an actual alien. 

He is so not prepared for this. Oh god what if he fucks it up? What if it doesn’t like him? What if it spits acid on him or something? Oh god, worse, what if it likes him, a lot, and busts through the glass just to plant it’s alien eggs in his stomach?

“Mr. Saddler?” Brennan flinches a bit, turning to look at Dr. White, eyebrows raised in question, “Are you alright? You seem nervous. You know you aren’t in there alone, right? I will be there, as well as the lead researcher, and you aren’t in any danger. It is perfectly safe.” She steps up to his side, and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, you don’t wanna waste what might be your only opportunity to see a real life alien, right?” She winks at him, and she pats his arm, opening the door for him, and guiding him into the room where he finally sees it. He finally sees his first alien.

And wow. It’s… Pretty.