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anniebrainrots · 3 years

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Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past.

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warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n

wc: 3.2k

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,)

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You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin.

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off.

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it.

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him.

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back.

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come.

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him.

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it.

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else.

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations. It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out.

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?”

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?”

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him.

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night.

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed.

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could.

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age.

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?”

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.”

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort.

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time.

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months.

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies.

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed.

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused.

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had.

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks.

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down.

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages.

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace.

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent.

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?”

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.”

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind.

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory.

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.”

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—”

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?”

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?”

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’.

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother.

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.”

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep.

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment.

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.”

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops.

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil.

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him.

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse.

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks.

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person.

“I know.”

#techno x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #c!techno #dream smp techno #sbi family dynamic #sleepy bois x reader #sbi x reader #technoblade

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stellocchia · 3 years

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Hot take:

The afterlife on the dsmp as it has been shown in canon is good and anything too different from it would send some screwed up message.

The afterlife has to be objectively shitty for everyone. (Tho tbh schlatt didn't seem that tortured and from what we've heard of MD he actually seemed to be havin a decent time??? Wish they'd tell us a bit more about the "day to day" life of limbo)

Because. Well. It can't be neutral. Because we have so many suicidal characters and a neutral limbo would be good in comparison to their life. And while that's all well and good, it sends a really bad message of death being freeing and all of that. A message you don't wanna send to your potentially mentally ill audience.

And I mean neutral in different ways. You disappear as a person and become part of the big nothing? That'd be good for many suicidal ppl. Just. Half-conscious eternal sleep floating in nothing? Again. That's good for people having a bad life.

A good afterlife like heaven or paradise or whatever has the same problem but even worse. It makes death desirable. So a hard no for a story like this. Also I don't want people like schlatt or dream to die after being awful and then just. Get the big happy end like everyone else?

And yeah, I hear ya. "Cat, why do we not just have different afterlifes for different p-" no stfu.

That would be even WORSE

Listen, I want ghostbur to have a better limbo too but what kind of fucked up message would that send? Wilbur deserved eternal suffering for his poor mental health and ghostbur deserved eternal happiness for literally not having the capacity for it? And that's also once again establishing that death is desirable with the right circumstances.

And again. And this is important. An afterlife that judges you is an awful fucking idea for especially this story. A story where everyone is morally grey and has become worse due to trauma.

And the afterlife is objectively shit. But I also wanna point out that a lot of Tommy's complains came from Wilbur apparently tormenting him and Wilburs came from being alone all the time.... Which is not gonna be a problem for eternity when the afterlife is shared (which makes a good point for the theory that the current afterlife isn't the true afterlife but messed up because... How tf was JSchlatt the first one to die yet a revivebook existed)

Like yeah. The afterlife would also have been shit for Tommy even without Wilbur because... Sensory deprivation tank. But you also gotta remember that he very much requested to STAY THERE if he were to die again.

So dying and being revived is objectively worse.

But even more so. The people there don't change. They change in small ways! Wilbur went from being dead and not wanting to be revived during the disc war finale to being dead and not wanting to be revived but also planning to make life hell if he were to being dead and wanting to be alive again.

But overall. They can't grow. They can't start or have or complete a character arc when they're dead. And that's great. Change is a privilege of the living. Life sucks but death also sucks and there you can't even change. Life sucks but at least that can change. Life sucks but it can not suck at some point. Life sucks but if you give up and die that will never end.

Life is precious because it can be good unlike death.

Tldr: the dsmp afterlife is perfect the way it is y'all are just fucking weak.

I agree with most of your points, but not with Tommy. Like, a big part of why the afterlife sucked for him was also that he felt like he was constantly being ripped apart and stretched, he explained as much when talking about it. Wilbur made it worse, but he wasn't the only thing.

Also, while Tommy initially expressed that being back was worse, that's a feeling that hasn't been expressed in a long ass time and was probably the result of the mix between the sensory overload, the alienation and feeling like he'd been replaced. Most likely now his answer would be different. We can't really take something he said when he was freshly traumatized and act like he could never change his mind on it.

Further proof on that is how fervently Wilbur wants to live. How happy he is to be back. Makes me think that revival isn't all that bad if it isn't done in literally the most traumatizing way possible. And that's a good thing honestly. It sends a stronger message about life still being better and still being worth it.

But yeah, in general that's also why I like the canon Limbo. I really don't think it would have been smart to handle it any other way honestly.

The only reason why I don't like Ghostbur being there is because it doesn't really make any sense? Like, did Ghostbur exist as an independent entity before Wilbur died? If not why does he still exist now that Wilbur is back? How separate are they as entities? Why did nothing like this happen with other characters who also died? If Wilbur got Ghostbur's memories does this mean they partially merged in some way? How does a Ghost even die? Why was Wilbur able to interact with Tommy, Schlatt and MD in Limbo but Ghostbur supposedly isn't?

Like, it just creates so many fricking plotholes it's unbelievable. Honestly the best thing he could have done was just say that Ghostbur and Wilbur merged and that was it. At least it would have made sense. Now it's just kind of there as information and we have to pretend it makes sense even if it really really doesn't.

#ladycatland ask #long post #tw suicidal tendencies #dream smp

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itsmoonphobic · 4 years

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Recap of MCC 9 yesterday: That shit was W I L D-

First of all Techno absolutely havin' no idea what's goin' on durin' the new sky battle game but still dominatin' was fuckin' hilarious-He was like: "I have no idea what's happenin' but Technoblade first place!" I don't wanna brag but I did kinda predict the fact that Aqua was goin' to destroy everyone else in Sky battle- :D

Second of all,Tommy and Tubbo interactions? FU CK yeah- I loved their little moments durin' mcc- That part where Tubbo whispered to Tommy that he misses him and Tommy straight up replyin' with: "You too man-" made me cry- DON'T SEPARATE THEM SCOTT >:( They are a package deal,you can either have both of them together or none of the two.I genuinely hope they end up on the same team next MCC-

Please keep in mind this was Tubbo's first ever MCC,and he absolutely carried his whole entire team! [The fact that he was so good at the games is probably from always watchin' Tommy's MCC streams qwq-] He came in third individual- FOR HIS FIRST TIME EVER joinin' the event.I am so fuckin' proud of him no shit,my boy deserves all the recognition in this world- [I was kinda hopin' he would try if /fly works lmfao- Little coder kid was probably thinkin' about breakin' some of the games completely-]

Finn cosplayin' Techno and quotin' the Sun Tzu book to him as if he was tryin' to impress him,was most definitely my favorite part of the whole stream![Also Finn legit tellin'Techno that he still holds a grudge against Techno plane back in MCU made me w h e e z e-] I loved their dynamic and I hope we get to see more of them together!

CALVIN AND SAPNAP RIVALRY- Holy shit that was fuckin' amazing!

"I'm going to kill SapNap.There is no pvp?Doesn't matter."

That part made me the livin' definition of 'lmfao'. Calvin has such good vibes it's insane- His laugh and attitude make me so happy,I can't even explain it- His and Techno's team work is probably some of the best out there![I shit you not when he said "We're used to playing a player down." I died]

TOMMY BECOMIN' A SLEEPY BOI AND WILBUR ACCIDENTALLY BREAKIN' THE VLOG GUN WERE MY HIGHLIGHTS- We officially don't have to say "SBI+Tommy" anymore-It's just the "Sleepy bois incorporated" qwq [RIP vlog gun 2,you will be missed]

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styleshollands · 4 years

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KIWI | t.h.

Summary: Tom goes to a Harry Styles concert expecting a good time but instead is met with his girlfriend, Y/N, singing a much too intimate song with the star of the show.

Warnings: angst! platonic!best friend!harry 🥺 jealous!tom with a little heartbreak but da fluff! comes through at the end :)

Pairing: singer!female!reader x Tom Holland

A/N: this is super long and all over the place but i hope you like it! my requests are open!

"Man, I'm really excited to see Harry Styles tonight! Filming in London just got so much better." Zendaya spoke with a huge smile on her face. Tom, Harrison and Jacob all agreed with her in unison, feeling quite jittery themselves. "You know, I heard he's bringing out a guest for one song, I wonder who it'll be." Harry quizzed aloud, causing the group to spring into a debate about who it'd be. Tom stayed silent, feeling a little ache in his heart. He had been apart from his girlfriend, Y/N, for only a day due to her rehearsals and his filming which he usually would be able to deal with but tonight was different. Harry Styles was Y/N's best friend. The two were always attached at the hip, enough to the point where any third person around the pair would feel like the odd one out. Harry always made Tom think of you, which he didn't mind usually but tonight he did. He wanted you to be there with him singing along, having the time of your life. Tom himself was quite close with Harry and he admired the friendship you two shared so, not having you here tonight was really getting him down. But, he put on a smile, getting ready to enjoy the night and cheer Harry on for the both of you.

"Alright London, for this last song I'm gonna bring out a very special guest." The crew's ears heightened at this, Tom feeling especially excited to see the guest. "In fact, I actually wrote this song about her. She's been my best friend for ages now and we've had a lot of adventures together." Harry spoke with a chuckle and it seemed that the fans had gotten the hint as well as all of Tom's friends but he was still dazed. It couldn't be you, you would've told him. Before his thoughts could continue, Harry spoke up again, "So, London, put your hands together for the very special and beautiful, Y/N L/N!" and out you walked in all your glory. You sported red silk trousers with a flare at the bottom, a black lace tanktop, that fit your body perfectly and a red silk blazer to go overtop. To top the look off, a big red bow made of toule was tied around your neck. When you stood next to Harry, you two looked perfectly in sync. He sported the same style but in yellow and purple. "Hi London! Just F.Y.I, I made him say all that." You said with your signature smirk adorning your face. The crowd broke into an uproar of cheers and Harry laughed in the mic and said, "'Tis true, I really don't like her that much." At which you shoved him. You two continued your banter on the stage, interacting with fans while Tom sat starstuck. "Holy Shit! It's Y/N!" Harrison said causing the group to break out in cheers. "Aye, that's our girl!" Zendaya said, sporting a proud grin. "I can't believe it's her, she didn't tell me anything about this." Tom said, feeling dejected, an unkown and uncomfortable feeling of jealousy settling over his heart as he watched Harry pull you into his side, telling jokes to the crowd to which you fondly laughed. "I think it slipped her mind, mate, relax." Harrison piped up, sensing that his best friend felt excluded and forgotten. Tom only nodded, keeping his eyes trained on you, noticing the grin on your face and the way you had your arm slung around Harry's neck, staring up at him with the personification of heart eyes.

"She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes, hard liquor mixed with a little bit of intellect." Harry began the song, looking over at you as you shouted it out at the crowd. You brought your mic up to sing the next part. When the chorus rolled around and both you and Harry's voices were mixing perfectly, the lyrics stung Tom's heart. "I'm havin' your baby, it's none of your business." The moment those words left your mouth, Harry's introduction from earlier rang loud in Tom's mind. "I wrote this song about her". Tom listened to the rest of the song, his mind playing a game of tennis between each lyric and Harry's words.

"When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus, in a black dress, such an actress." - "I wrote this song about her."

"Driving me crazy, but I'm into it." - "I wrote this song about her"

"Hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet." - "I wrote this song about her."

"Shes all over me it's like I paid for it." - "I wrote this song about her."

The song finally ended, Harry and you laced hands and bowed in front of the crowd, thanking them and then walking off. "That was so sick! They killed it!" Jacob said excitedly, no one picking up on Tom's discomfort. They all walked out of the stadium, talking to fans and taking a few pictures here and there. Just as they neared their cars, someone called out, "Guys! Wait for us!" followed by two pairs of footsteps running towards them. Harry and you ran across the street with your hands linked and as soon as you neared Tom, you leaped into his arms. "Hi baby, I missed you!" you said into his ear, to which he grumbled a "yeah me too", leaving you confused but you simply brushed it off, greeting and conversing with the others.

"Tom, why are you being so weird! You were quiet while we were talking to everyone and you were quiet the whole way back! What is up wi-" he cut you off before you could finish, "Why didn't you tell me you were performing tonight?" You looked at him, entirely confused, reaching for your phone. "I did, Tom." you replied while unlocking your phone and pulling up the texts. "Look I said it ri-, oh shit!" your eyes scanned over the texts, seeing what you had told him, "hey bub, im rehearsing tonight for the concert, sorry i didn't tell u earlier, it's a bit last minute! i'll see u soon, love u" "Tom I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was typing, this text was meant to tell you about the concert. I'm sorry, that's on me." you said feeling guilty about not informing him, making him feel completely out of the loop, which he hated. "Yeah it's okay, I was overreacting anyway, let's just go to bed." Tom said, the lyrics of the song still ringing in his mind. Before he could walk away, you tugged on his arm, pulling you both down onto the couch. "Thomas, I know you better than this, I know somethings bothering you so please tell me what it is." He sucked in a deep breath and began, "That song you both performed together, he said he wrote it about you, the lyrics, t-they were so, so intimitate, it, uh, sounded like you guys have had more than just a platonic relationship and I-i guess that made me, uh, real uncomfortable." he finished with a blush adorning his cheeks and a few tears pooling in his eyes. "Oh, Tommy, I'm so sorry, it's not like that at all! Harry and I wrote this song together about 5 years ago and it's actually just this joke we have, even among the fans, about a night that never happened! All of the lyrics are pulled from imagination, I promise! I totally would've told you about it but to be honest, I completely forgot about it, it was so long ago and so unimportant. Still, that's no excuse and I'm so sorry it made you uncomfortable." You let out, grabbing his hand tightly, afraid to let him go. "Oh my God, that's such a relief." He sighed out, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "Jesus, I almost died of heartbreak. I love you and thank you for clearing that up." "I'm so sorry baby, I love you so much." You pulled him into a soft kiss, caressing his arms, as if telling him how much you love him and only him.

#tom holland fluff #tom holland and y/n #dating tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #harry styles #tom holland blurb

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thanekrios · 3 years

Text

The way fall smells

SUMMARY: Tommy always loved the distinctive scent of fall. After a day patrolling with Joel, he remembers why.

The leaves had grown old and begun falling, laying carpets of warm hues on every trail surrounding Jackson. Tommy took a deep breath, taking in the unique sharpness in the air that came with the last months of the year.

It had been a good day. They had patrolled until noon, everything clear – no signs of Hunters or infected– and after checking in, left for the rest of the day to hunt and walk, to talk and have a snack under the orange light of the late afternoon just like they did when they were young.

Joel was having a good day too; Tommy could see it. For the whole afternoon, his shoulders had been relaxed, arms resting at his sides; every now and then, he stopped to take in the shushing of the leaves or the landscape. He was at peace.

Over the course of two years, Tommy had seen how his brother’s sharp edges had begun to dull and a smile would come to him easier than a frown. He talked more, about Sarah and Tess and sometimes even about himself; he hummed around Tommy, sang around Ellie. For a long time, Joel’s hatred for everything was like an all-consuming fire. But Tommy knew that as catastrophic as fires could be, they could also restore – he had seen it with grasslands, entire fields cleansed by the flames, making way for new vegetation to thrive. And now, he had seen it with Joel.

“We should head back.” Joel said as he got up and brushed breadcrumbs off his jacket. “We don’t want it getting too late.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed as they began walking in Jackson’s direction. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Watchin’ a movie with Ellie.”

‘You’re both welcome to join us for dinner if you like.”

Tommy made a pause and considered his words.

Whenever they had them over, it wasn’t just dinner. It was a series of stories from any period of their lives. The brothers grew more excited with each anecdote, Maria would bid them goodnight long after their plates had been cleared; and as their laughter turned loud like thunderclaps, Ellie began knocking down every miserable object in her proximity as she became overexcited while shouting No fucking way! Then came the guitars. More laughter and clatter. And before they knew it, Maria was walking out the door for an early patrol.

So, Tommy added:

“Before your movie.”

“Thanks, but we don’t wanna interrupt Maria’s sleep two nights in a row.” Joel’s eyes ran across the golden foliage, the corners of his mouth curving.

“Well, I’m sure Ellie would appreciate some leftovers.” Tommy found himself smiling as well. “I can leave’em by the porch.”

“Usual place?”

“Usual place,” he confirmed.

“Appreciate it.”

They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the brittle sound of falling leaves and with each step, they walked into memories.

Tommy loved fall.

He first became enchanted with it as a child. He craved the crunching of a dry leaf under his booted feet, having a hot drink when his lips were chapped, listening to Joel play soft melodies as the sun set fire to the clouds. But above all, he looked forward to the unmistakable scent of summer’s perishing.

Tommy knew he came across as simple, devoid of imagination. Even before the outbreak people had assumed there wasn't much to him, that he never dreamt of anything other than a job in construction, blindly following Joel’s steps. He knew why it was easy to believe he had chosen an uncomplicated life rather than having settled for it. He didn’t make any effort to correct anyone. His dreams had been his own. Truth was, Tommy had wanted to be a storyteller in his youth.

During his childhood, he imagined the playful winds that came with fall were whispering stories, travelling through the rattling orange and yellow leafed trees, there for anyone who was willing to listen. Tommy imagined, to escape the empty rooms, the absent parents. He opened his mind and closed his eyes to craft tales of floating homes in the sky and flying whales and homemade dinners.

Fall shaped each story and realm that sprang in his heart and imagination. He didn’t speak of any of them, for whenever he had attempted to put it into words, the intricacy of each story, the vibrance of every world, the heartbreak experienced by each character became colorless.

"All imagination and zero talent," he confessed to Joel in his early teens.

Joel, who wasn't the wordy type either, comforted him the only way he knew how: by handing him his treasured guitar.

"You can tell stories with this, too."

By trading words for melodies, Tommy had compromised. If that was to be the only way to set his stories out into the world, it was enough.

Joel stopped and took in a deep breath, catching Tommy’s attention. His older brother let out a pleased sigh:

“I like the way it smells.” He didn’t need to say more, Tommy knew what he meant, but he continued, “Y’know, fall.”

He took in the words and allowed them to travel the usual road, back into his heart.

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. He buried his hands deep in his jacket pockets and filled his lungs with fresh air. He had heard that many times before but never from Joel. “Y’know, Sarah used to say the same thing.”

Something softened in Joel’s eyes, the look on his face echoing the one Tommy had seen on him countless times, whenever he had braided Sarah’s hair with so much care and tenderness it made it difficult to think of him as anything other than a loving father.

“Did she now?”

Tommy nodded:

“She said she liked the way fall smelled and then, uh, asked me what the smell was.”

“What did ya say?”

“I dunno, somethin’ dumb, like dust from a dirt road or somethin’.”

“That…that’s pretty accurate. Why’d you say it’s dumb? Was Sarah disappointed or somethin’?” Joel asked after a moment.

Tommy quirked a brow:

“Sarah? Our Sarah? That girl didn’t act disappointed a day in her life.”

“Yeah” Joel agreed in a whisper.

“But she asked me again the year after that. And then the one after that. And it kinda became a game we played. I gave her the thickest answers and she took’em. Then she started havin’ answers of her own.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

“Well, a bunch of stuff. Good stuff. I think one time she said, uh, sharpened pencil. Yeah, that was it. Sharpened pencil. She also came up with…”

In recent years, Tommy had become an active forgetter, a problem that had triggered countless arguments with Maria. But those moments with Sarah, he remembered better than entire years.

“Apples, yeah. Refreshin’ and sweet and sour. There was, uh, wet soil after rain and hot hay dryin’ in the sun.”

“That’s…that’s a good one” Joel chuckled before kneeling to tie his shoelace. Tommy was certain his brother was only pretending to do it to shield his face. Then, as he stood up, he held his gaze. His smile was wide, eyes gleaming. “What else?”

Tommy didn’t have to think too hard. He knew just the one.

It had been a late afternoon, two days before the outbreak. Orange tinted the town as if the moment already belonged to a memory. Sarah had a plan; she would go to Tannhaus Watches & Jewellery to get Joel’s birthday present and he would go to the bakery next to it and place an order for a cake.

“Divide and conquer!” Sarah had repeated on their way to town.

The breeze carried the earthy sweet scent of the piles of leaves, tickling his nose. For once, he had decided, he would ask the question first:

“What does fall smell like?”

It had taken her but a few seconds to whip up an answer, taking Tommy by surprise:

“Fall smells like you, Uncle Tommy.”

Tommy’s words had died in his throat. He looked down, speechless still, and rested his eyes on her smile, equal parts sweet and smug. The realization of never having felt more loved dawned on him—it was a similar sensation to floating downstream. He felt weightless. Tommy remembered how when Sarah was little, they spent most of their time lying on golden grass, looking for shapes in the clouds or loudly singing along in his car. Sometimes they sat on the porch and drank extra sweet hot cocoa and he told her – in his own convoluted way – the stories he had told himself as a child to feel less alone. Tommy had reminded her, through his stories and his terrible mac and cheese dinners, that he would always be there for her – just like Joel had been for him.

“Alright. You win, sweetheart,” he said when he meant to say Thank you, I love you too.

Sarah had wrapped her skinny arms around his waist. She would never do that again.

They made their way down the street, their sneakers brushing against the asphalt, the musky fragrance of wisterias faint in the air.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to win but I’m glad I did.” And she had meant I love you more.

Jackson peered through the trees, lights dotted across the county. The temperature had dropped, the chill bit at Tommy’s ears, pink shading his cheeks. A big lump had formed in his throat — there was no way he would be able to speak without his voice breaking. It didn’t matter, he wanted to share it with Joel. The words poured out of his lips as tears ran down his cheeks. He stopped. He half laughed; half cried. Then explained, in vivid detail, how Sarah had made him feel. He apologized. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. Talking about Sarah? Crying? He had grown so used to getting burned whenever he had brought her up, it was still easy to forget just how much Joel had changed.

After Sarah’s death, for the first part of the nightmarish years they spent together, barely scraping by, surviving at the cost of their own humanity, he dreamt of her almost every night. Waking up in sobs, the light dissolving into grey shadows. Joel had refused to look at him, splintering Tommy’s heart. They never spoke of the past. They never spoke of her. They took. They survived. And their hollowness deepened with every wretched day.

Time moved forward; the changing of the seasons serving as the last remaining proof of it. He found comfort in the breeze that came as the year was about to end, revisiting memories and his old stories. Sometimes, as he patrolled, he ventured back into his worlds and again greeted the heroes of his childhood. He knew that there was no room for dreams or stories and his heart ached as he gave them up all over again. And then, he watched how the seams of Joel’s humanity continued ripping one after the other. He had believed he would never get his brother back. But now, Joel’s eyes glistened, a combination of longing and joy. He told him there wasn’t a thing to be sorry for. He listened and placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Joel said softly once Tommy hung his head and fell quiet.

Tommy nodded, letting out a trembling vaporous exhalation.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you about that,” Tommy said as the knot in his throat loosened and he looked back up at Joel “I just didn’t know how.”

“I’m glad you finally did.” Joel gave Tommy’s shoulder a little squeeze before letting go.

Tommy watched him walk ahead, his silhouette against the sinking sun. He couldn’t see it, but he knew Joel was smiling. He was smiling too. The wind blew. It smelled like fall. It smelled like home.

#the last of us #tommy miller #joel miller #sarah miller #ellie williams #galifreyas writes #this was supposed to be the first chapter of a big thing #but things went sideways in my personal life and i abandoned everything to pursue crying in the shower #anyway! i have healed since #i know the fandom has kinda died out but like whatever #here i wrote it

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

The New Matriarch, ch 4.

Tw: - Fou language, I guess? - Thomas swears and trashes the basement

You

Squeal, growl, stomp. And you turn around to look in the direction of the sounds, there he is. The man your brain has decided to remember. You silently step up to him and look at him with a small discrete smile on your lips until he turns to look at you. “It’s you!” , your smile falters as he appears to flinch at your words, like you had stabbed him with something, and then he turns to leave. “Wait!”, you follow him a short distance before you start thinking that it might be a bad idea and are left standing in the hallway when you hear a door slam. You're yet again alone, looking toward where the man left in a hurry

"O… oh…" Unsure of what to do, you keep standing there, slightly swaying, listening to the snuffle of the pigs. "I'm so sorry!", you yell out in hopes of it reaching his ears before heading back up to the room you woke up in.

You slump down on the bed again, listening to the silence that once again occupies the house and finger a piece of fabric on your dress to occupy your brain. You let your body just fall to the side to lay down on your pillow, still fiddling and fingering a piece of fabric. All you do is just… exist. From time to time a small groan from the house can be heard, a wind might whistle somewhere.

After you’ve been existing, rolling around the bed to wake up limbs that have fallen asleep, you start hearing voices, footsteps and doors opening and closing and you perk up.

People!

Footsteps up the stairs makes you sit up and tuck your knees to your chest just staring at the door before deciding to walk over to the door to take a peek outside, but before you have time to reach it, a knocking emits from it. “C-come in.”, you reply in a small voice. “Oh, you’re awake, good.”, an older lady with glasses hung around her neck enters your room “How are you feelin’, girl?”

She looks expectantly at you, waiting for a reply. “O-oh. I’m, uhm… I’m good, I think.”, you smile awkwardly at her. Scratching a bit of skin off your arm that your dress bites into, the fabric is uncomfortable as all hell.

The old lady looks quizzically at you, eyebrows raised. “You think?” “Uhm… Yes. I’m a bit… confused, truth be told.”, you look sheepishly at her, suddenly feeling really embarrassed. “What’s your name, darlin’?”, she puts her hands on her hips as she asks you the simplest of questions to any human being out there. “M-my name?”, you stutter slightly, a familiar lump forming in your throat that you desperately try to swallow. “I-I… uhm…”, you take a deep breath to try and resist the urge to cry as you quietly whisper out “I can’t remember…”.

And it’s when those words leave your mouth that the flood gates that are your eyes open up and you can’t help but to cry. It’s all you do at that moment. You don’t even try to get them to stop. It’s an ugly, hulking cry. The one that’s felt in every part of your body, the kind where you want to scream out your sadness, the one that almost makes you want to vomit. You raise your hands to hide behind, to cry behind, and soon after you feel a pair of arms wrap around you in an embrace. A soft cooing into your scalp, and a hand smoothing over your hair. No words are spoken, it’s just you in the old lady’s embrace and the sounds of your crying.

When you finally feel your tears starting to let up, and you let yourself relax, the lady releases you from her grip, but cups your cheeks and lifts your head to let your eyes meet hers. “My name is Luda Mae, darlin’.” Her smile is warm, and you can tell she’s a mother just by the way she smiles at you. You smile back and nod slightly, rubbing one eye with the heel of your hand. “Come on. You’ll feel better after havin’ a shower.”, she takes your hand in a light grip and leads you towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna see if I can’t find you a proper piece of clothing too, can’t have you walkin’ ‘round the house in those rags.”, she chuckles a bit and you can’t help but to do the same.

All you manage to do is nod and gently squeeze her hand in appreciation.

Even if the bathroom is dirty too, it’s not as bad as the kitchen and you are thankful for that fact. Your whole body starts to itch where the fabric of your makeshift dress drags due to how rough it is. You peel the bandage off carefully to make sure you don’t disturb your wound, examining it when you see you’ve gotten stitches. A small “hm” when you silently appreciate the work someone here has done to you.

You wince slightly when the water hits the wound, but after the worst pain has subsided, you relax. You hang your head and watch as dark, murky water run down your legs and down the drain. The lighter the shower water becomes, the better you feel. For a few minutes, the only thing you do is stand there with water running down your back and hair. It feels so good to take a shower.

I don’t think I can remember when I took a shower alone last… , you sigh in relief. Picking under your nails to get grime out, scrubbing to get dirt away from your nail beds. It feels So. Damn. Good. to be clean again.

A knock on the door wakes you up from your shower dreaming. “Yes?”, you call out. “It’s Luda, darlin’. Just wanted to give ya’ somethin’ else to wear.” You smile to yourself at those words. “Oh, come in.”, even though the curtain is covering your form up you can’t help but to put your arms around you covering you up more out of instinct.

You look at the darkened figure of Luda Mae as she puts some clothing down on the toilet seat. “Pick whichever ya’ like, darlin’, and come downstairs when you’re ready. Supper will be on the table.”, and just like that, you’re left alone. You’re not entirely used to this level of free time. You knew there was always someone watching over you some way or another, but not here.

You dry yourself off and take a look at the items of clothing. One simple dress, nothing fancy or spectacular. And two types of shirts - which for you looked big enough to become dresses anyway. “Hm…”. You tried both the dress and one shirt, but in the end decided to pick the shirt. Mostly because you liked the fabric and how it felt on your skin, it was looser than the dress, which helped a lot with the wound on your shoulder since it didn’t dig into it.

And as suspected, it was way too big. You giggled at how the long sleeves reached out and over your fingertips, and the length of it reached down to your mid thighs, making you wonder if maybe you should ask for a pair of pants, but shrugging that thought away. The top button covered your chest just barely and you knew if you leaned forward too much everyone would get a clear cut view of your breasts.

On your way down to the main floor you heard the sound of what you guessed was a TV. You made your way through the house to find where the smell of food came from, your stomach rumbling and mouth starting to drool. When you finally found the dining room, you suddenly felt very small at the sight of the entire family.

Your eyes met with an older man that looked grumpy and you hid behind the door frame. “That girl ‘o yours is here, mama.”, his voice is gruff and you see the lady turn around to look at you, beckoning you to enter the dining room. “Stop hidin’ behind doors and get in here! Supper’s getting cold.”, you nod shyly and walk around the corner to sit down at an empty chair that seems to be distant enough from the old man, but sadly making you end up in direct line of sight of him. His gaze is burning your soul and you feel really naked and exposed by it, especially when you notice where his gaze is making its way.

You jump high and drop your fork when there is one loud stomp at the floor. “THOMAS! It’s DINNER TIME!”, you curl up into the chair and tuck your knees up to your chest when you get the chance while the old man isn’t looking at you, his eyes seemingly searching for any kind of sound. It takes a few minutes before you hear footsteps coming for the dining room, heavy ones.

“Where the fuck have ya’ been, ya’ bastard? Haven’t seen ya’ since we got home, boy.”, something in his voice makes a shiver run down your back, it sounds venomous. His question was just replied with an annoyed grunt. You keep your eyes on your food that you’re simply just poking around with your fork, despite the hunger aching in you. “Oh, stop bein’ a baby, Tommy. Just sit somewhere else, and let the girl eat.”, Luda Mae tells the man you’re starting to piece together is named Thomas.

Oh I took his seat… , you keep your eyes down in embarrassment.

It’s by the time the big man sits down next to you that you decide you need to do something, say something. Something!

“I-I… Uhm… I just wanted to say…”, all eyes on you. Even Thomas, you see him in the corner of your eye, but you honestly don’t dare to look at him. Not after you apparently offended him earlier. You're scared he’s mad at you for offending him, scared he’s mad at you for unknowingly taking his seat. And your voice goes from loud and clear to a whisper. “T...hank you.”, you take a mouth full of the food and feel tears pricking at your eyes again. You take another. And another. And suddenly you’re shoving food into your mouth almost faster than you have time to chew. The sight is apparently comical, as you start hearing chuckling and giggles around the table. “Easy there, darlin’.”, a hand lands on your own and a thumb rubs back and forth. You look up at Luda with happy tears streaming down your cheeks. “Don’t choke on your food! It’s enough you almost up and died when Tommy brought you in, no need to scare us again.”

You slow down enough to finish what you’ve already started chewing. “I just haven’t eaten such good food in so long, it’s amazing!”, for the first time since you got here, your smile reaches up to your eyes making them squint in happiness. Your smile is real, and genuine.

Making at least one's heart at the dinner table to jump.

Thomas B. Hewitt

The basement is dim and damp. And the moment he reaches the floor he kicks a bucket that richoces at a nearby wooden banister and lands in some far corner. Anger has taken a hold of him again. Frustration.

God DAMN IT! , he growls and plants his hands flat on one of the tables, head slumped. Shoulders tense.

"I'm so sorry!", it's faint, but he still hears her voice calling out for him.

Shut the fuck up.

He's breathing heavily. When he heard her voice before, it was like honey, soft and warm in his ears, but now? It stung like daggers.

It was the way she said "you" that set him off. It's how everyone else always talks to or about him. He was never viewed as a person, a human being. He was almost always a venomous “you”, a whispering “him” between friends followed by snicker and giggles. Sometimes he was even an “it”. His family were the only people who viewed him like a proper human being, well except for Charlie but that was just because he was an asshole in general. “You”, “it’s him” , “that thing”. All of them negative. He grits his teeth, his fingers digging into the table, knuckles turning white.

He lets out a frustrated roar that’s silenced by the crash of the table he decides to flip over makes. His tools fly all through the basements and clank all over the space.

After the worst of his tantrum has subsided, he’s just standing there, looking at the mess he’s made before stomping over to a small secluded area of the basement. His area of the basement, the one he made during his early teenage years when the bullying became worse and he felt he needed a place where his family didn’t go. He needed something more hidden. A place where he could curl into when he didn’t want the world to know he even existed. He’d put a bed in there once, an old one. A creaky, dingy bed. Mostly just springs and a mattress, but a bed nonetheless. He flopped down on it, face first, ignoring the uncomfortable way the edges of his mask dug into his face and scars as he let his eyes fall halfway. He just sighed, one foot hanging off the bed, arms folded under his pillow.

She’s pretty, the adrenaline started to pour out of his body and tiredness hit him. He usually gets either straight up sleepy or just tired after an adrenaline rush, no matter how small. Closing his eyes, his mind drifts off to that one sentence when her voice was still honey.

And I like her voice…

“-MAS!”, he slowly opens his eyes listening for something that sounded like a voice.

“THOMAS!”

Oh, it’s Charlie. , he groaned when he realized who it was, and drags himself up from the creaky bed.

“It’s DINNER TIME!"

Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. He yawns as he climbs the stairs up to the dining room. The whole family is gathered as he enters, looking at his seat he sees her. In one of HIS shirts.

Mama, that’s MY shirt!

“Where the fuck have ya’ been, ya’ bastard? Haven’t seen ya’ since we got home, boy.”, Thomas just grunts in annoyance to Charlie’s question, or to her sitting in his seat… or the fact that his mother gave her one of his favorite shirts. He’s not sure. He throws his mother an annoyed glance before huffing. “Oh, stop bein’ a baby, Tommy. Just sit somewhere else, and let the girl eat.”, his mother tells him. He gives a defeated whine, trudges over and plants himself on an empty chair next to her. As he picks his own utensil up to start digging into the food in front of him, she decides to speak again.

“I-I… Uhm… I just wanted to say…”, he slowly turns his head towards her, his eyes piercing into her. He’s confused as to what feelings to feel right now. Annoyance because it’s his shirt and his seat? Flustered because it’s his shirt and she actually looks adorable in it? Angry because she’s most likely just like everyone else, or at the fact that he has to think about what kind of feelings he’s supposed to have? It’s just one big confused concoction of emotions and feelings rumbling around inside of him right now.

“T...hank you.”, her voice is low, but he shrugs slightly. He takes a bite of food before turning to look at her again in utter shock. She’s shoveling food into her like a ravenous animal. Like she hasn’t eaten in god knows how long. It looks like she doesn’t even have time to chew properly, he stifles a chuckle at the sight and signals his mother with a chuckle disguised as a grunt. “Easy there, darlin’.”, he just spectates as his mother places a hand on hers before turning to look at his brother and uncle who’s both chuckling at the starving animal at the table before he himself can’t help but to release a silent chuckle, his shoulder bouncing slightly. “Don’t choke on your food! It’s enough you almost up and died when Tommy brought you in, no need to scare us again.”

He smiles to himself as he takes a drink of water. “I just haven’t eaten such good food in so long, it’s amazing!” He glances at her at first, but can’t help to fully turn his head when he sees her smile.

It’s a genuine smile. A smile that reaches her eyes. He remembers something his mother told him at a young age; “Remember, Tommy. If a person whose smile makes their eye smaller, that person is giving you their truest of smiles.”, it isn't until now that he fully understands what she meant by that.

If he spoke; he would’ve been speechless. Something even his thoughts are at this moment. He’s not sure what to say, or even think when he sees her smile. It makes his heart jump and he’s more thankful than ever that he has his mask on as he can basically feel his cheek start to burn red.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #fanfiction

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

Radioactive Ch 3: The Bird and the Worm

Summary: The heroes try and find Logan as they receive help from an unlikely source.

A/N: Title comes from “the Bird and the Worm” by the Used.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“Where is he?” Abe demanded.

“I don’t know!” Ranboo started to sob from the stress, the instant the tears hit his face they burned his skin, steam visibly coming from his cheeks.

“Abe, stop, out,” Silver ordered.

Still in a fury, Abe left and Silver stayed in the interrogation room with several other heroes.

After Abe had come to and found Logan and Tubbo were gone, the heroes had gone back to talk to Ranboo who agreed to be questioned without an arrest. During that time, the city was rocked by a brief explosion. It was clear to everyone that Ranboo was nowhere near as calculating as his husband.

Outside, in the lobby Patton was trying to look after Michael, who was still in his little pajamas with his chicken plushie and crying.

“Hey, come on, your daddy will be back soon,” Patton tried to promise.

“Hey there Michael,” Ghostbur walked up and Michael hiccuped and stared at Ghostbur with relief.

“Bur!” Michael got up and raced for Ghostbur.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Ghostbur picked Michael up as the young child kept crying. “Boo’ll be back, promise.”

Ghostbur sat down as Michael started snuffling but he seemed to be calming down.

Tommy walked over and just stared at Michael.

“You’re really good with kids,” Patton complimented him.

“I’m really not,” Ghostbur frowned sadly.

“Yeah you’re shit with kids,” Tommy agreed. “You always were.”

“Hey come on, we can’t curse in front of a kid this young,” Patton admonished them.

“This is supposed ta[1] be Tubbo’s kid right?” Tommy was staring at Michael with an expression of loathing and a snarl in his tone.

“Y-Yeah?” Patton braced to get in-between Tommy and Michael.

“Then the little fooker’s[2] already heard it all then, ain’t[3] he?” Tommy decided.

Michael was still hiding in Ghostbur’s jumper, cuddling his little chicken close to his chest.

“Isn’t he just the cutest little thing, Big Man?” Ghostbur smiled.

“Thing? Yeah. Cute? I don’t think so, half its face looks melted off.” Tommy huffed.

“Ehh, like you looked any different, mate. I’m pretty sure Phil just vomited inta[4] trash can an’[5] you popped out.”

The heroes and the cops turned to see Jack Manifold appearing out of thin air as his invisibility potion fizzled out.

“You!” Tommy summoned his axe and got in front of Ghostbur and Michael. “The fook[6] do you want?”

Jack took out a card with a radioactive symbol on it, “I’ve got some hot shit ta[1] tell you.”

At that instant, Jack was jumped by three officers, the card disappearing into thin air in a puff of magic. Ranboo was walking out at the same time and rushed over to Michael to take him back into his arms.

“Boo! Boo!” Michael sobbed, patting Ranboo’s face with a hand.

“I’m back, buddy,” Ranboo buried his face into Michael’s short hair. “Da’s here. We’re going home.”

The instant Jack Manifold was brought into an interrogation room he began talking. He didn’t get into specifics, but he admitted that he was part of Dream’s gang, and that Tubbo was a weapon’s expert. But Tubbo kept all information of how he was building things very close to his chest.

“But,” Jack summoned the card back into his hands, making it disappear when Abe tried to snatch it away. “Tubbo made a mistake, little fooker’s[2] absolutely mad but he made me his back up. Tubbo can’t detonate his new toys without a second keycard.”

“How big a detonation are we e’en[7] talkin’[8] here?” Jackie asked.

Jack shrugged, “Well, don’t know how many ‘a yer demon friends felt that earthquake but Tubbo an’ I detonated one ‘a Tubbo’s new toys way north in Egoton’s haunted forest. Crater’s still there if you wanna check.”[9]

“That was an explosion?” Silver demanded. Bing had already left to check out the northeast forest, finding the cameras and speakers but it took him a couple seconds longer to find the crater. His readings could still detect the fading radioactive isotopes being leached from the air by magic.

“Yeah, we all did,” Jackie answered as Bing was searching. “That was you?”

“Me an’[5] Tubbo,” Jack corrected. “We didn’t e’en expect it ta work an’ I think Tubbo lost his mind. ‘Cause he was just standin’ there laughin’ his arse off like a madman.”[10]

“Where is Tubbo right now?” Abe demanded.

“I reckon he’d be back at the Server, probably still cacklin’[11] like a madman,” Jack sighed.

“Where’s the Server?” Jackie asked.

“I saw the crater,” Bing told them as his nanites reconstructed back into the room. “How big was the payload?”

Jack held up his hands, to show a disc about the length of his hand, “Bout[12] this big.”

“How big was the crater?” Silver asked.

“The size of a house,” Bing reported, showing the images to the others. “I think the bomb was meant ta[1] prioritize damage o’er[13] distance because it was deeper than it was big. Yeh[14] had a lot ‘a[15] pitchblende, what happened ta[1] the rest ‘a[15] it.”

“Used all ‘a[15] it,” Jack shrugged. “Some fer experiments, an’ others fer makin’ the payloads.”[16]

The atmosphere was so thick and heavy one could cut it with a knife.

“How many do you have?” Abe asked.

“We used a good bit ‘a[15] it in tests,,” Jack explained. “Tubbo was already conducted experiments on his own aura before he got his hands on the stuff. After Tubbo got done with those tests we only had about a dinner plate sized amount left an’ a lot ‘a waste we had ta dispose ‘a. But Tubbo took the other two cores we made. Was really paranoid ‘bout someone else havin’ or e’en seeing ‘em.”[17]

“So he can just make two more bombs,” Bing demanded.

“Make ‘em[18]?” Jack chuckled nervously. “He’s already got the cases fer ‘em, an’ the cores. But that fooker can’t detonate ‘em without me.”[19]

Jack summoned the keycard again. “Those two nukes aren’t worth a thing except a scare tactic without my aura. Someone else can take the card an’[5] try ta[1] use it, but unless I’m there it won’t do shit.”

“Okay, so we’ve got time ta[1] find the kid,” Jackie felt a touch of relief. “Yeh[14] said he was at the Server. Where is it? Is it like a safehouse or some kinda[20] base?”

“It’s Dream’s little nightclub,” Jack explained. “He controls who’s allowed inta the Server. He’s got our aura marked with somethin’. No one can physically go inta the place without Dream’s say-so. E’en if I told you all the address: 5485 NE Ralph St. You all couldn’t e’en get in the door without Dream’s permission.”[21]

“You guys took one of our heroes,” Abe commented. “Would he be at the Server too?”

“The thrall in the blue?” Jack asked.

“He’s not a thrall,” Silver defended.

“Sure, whate’er makes it easier fer you ta work with that freak ‘a nature,”[22] Jack shrugged. “I’m not sure, but he might be, Dream wants the legate in his back pocket so he’s probably tryin’[23] ta[1] cut some kinda[20] deal.”

“Well, he took the wrong Side for that,” Abe decided. “We can try and get contact with Logic again, you’ll be in holding until we sort things out.”

“You don’t understand, I want out ‘a[15] the Server, they’re all crazy maniacs.” Jack scoffed. “The worst thing that happens ta[1] me if I go back is I get yelled at by the Captains, an’[5] then Dream slaps me on the wrist with a discorporation.”

“We’ll talk about deals after we get Logic back,” Silver told him. “For now just stay put.”

“That’s better,” Jack scoffed, then chuckled to himself. “So how’s that blowhard Tommy?”

“I fail ta see how that’s any ‘a yer fookin’ concern,”[24] Jackie warned.

“So he’s doin’[25] well then,” Jack chuckled. “So he workin’ with yeh until he can get those discs back, or is he tryin’ ta be subtle fer once in his life?”[26]

“We’re not at liberty to use one of the Coalition’s real names, even if the individual were talking to knows it as well,” Silver warned.

“Geez, sure, whate’er[27], just be careful around Tommy, yeh[14] hear?” Jack warned.

“Why?” Silver ordered.

Jack let out an amused chuckle, “I get it, you heroes love a good sob story. But Tommy’s a fookin’[28] menace. Dream kicked him out fer[29] a reason, mate. You see there’s only one thing Tommy cares about: his dics. Dream has them under lock an’[5] key with some ‘a[5] the rest ‘a[5] our stuff he’s holdin’[30] hostage. Tommy will betray anyone ta[1] get ‘em[18] back: me, Tubbo, Ghostbur, Nikki. He’ll e’en[7] break Phil’s heart.”

“What’s on these dics?” Jackie asked.

“Far as I can tell?” Jack scoffed. “Some fookin’ shite sample music. I think Wilbur an’ Tommy made ‘em together. Tommy’s nuts o’er ‘em. An’ glitches are already territorial as shite. You should have seen Tommy after he figured out Ranboo an’ Tubbo were married, he just about set Ranboo on fire.”[31]

“We figured after the interaction at the warehouse that you and Tubbo had met Big Man and Ghostbur before,” Silver commented.

“Oh yeah, me an’[5],” Jack scoffed, “well, I knew Wilbur. Ghostbur’s a joke. I can’t tell how much ‘a Wilbur is e’en left in there. But I hope it’s nothin’ ‘cause if I e’er see a sliver ‘a him again it’ll be too soon.”[32]

“What do you mean?” Silver asked.

“Ghostbur used to be an empath by the name ‘a[15] Wilbur, you seen the winged demon that’s been goin’[33] around town, Phil?” Jack asked and Silver nodded. “Phil didn’t just split off some tough pieces ‘a[15] shit, he also split off two fookin’[28] maniacs. Wilbur died mad, Tommy is mad. Their whole family’s nuts, so keep yer[34] eyes on ‘em[18].”

Jack kept talking a little bit more before Jackie and Bing went off to the address to see if they would find Logan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. to

2. fucker’s

3. hasn’t

4. into

5. and

6. fuck

7. even

8. talking

9. Well, don’t know how many of your demon friends felt that earthquake but Tubbo and I detonated one of Tubbo’s new toys way north in Egoton’s haunted forest. Crater’s still there if you wanna check.

10. We didn’t even expect it to work and I think Tubbo lost his mind. Because he was just standing there laughing his ass off like a madman.

11. cackling

12. About

13. over

14. You

15. of

16. Some for experiments, and others for making the payloads.

17. Tubbo was already conducted experiments on his own aura before he got his hands on the stuff. After Tubbo got done with those tests we only had about a dinner plate sized amount left and a lot of waste we had to dispose of. But Tubbo took the other two cores we made. Was really paranoid about someone else having or even seeing them.

18. them

19. He’s already got the cases for them, and the cores. But that fucker can’t detonate them without me.

20. kind of

21. He controls who’s allowed into the Server. He’s got our aura marked with something. No one can physically go into the place without Dream’s say-so. Even if I told you all the address: 5485 NE Ralph St. You all couldn’t even get in the door without Dream’s permission.

22. Sure, whatever makes it easier for you to work with that freak of nature

23. trying

24. I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking concern

25. doing

26. So he working with you until he can get those discs back, or is he trying to be subtle for once in his life?

27. whatever

28. fucking

29. for

30. holding

31. Some fucking shit sample music. I think Wilbur and Tommy made them together. Tommy’s nuts over them. And glitches are already territorial as shit. You should have seen Tommy after he figured out Ranboo and Tubbo were married, he just about set Ranboo on fire.

32. well, I knew Wilbur. Ghostbur’s a joke. I can’t tell how much of Wilbur is even left in there. But I hope it’s nothing because if I ever see a sliver of him again it’ll be too soon.

33. going

34. your

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #footnotes #Dream SMP #Ranboo #Silver Shepherd #Jackieboy Man #Bingiplier #Ghostbur #tommyinnit #Patton Sanders #Abe the Detective #michael the piglin #unhappy Michael #unhappy Ranboo #jack manifold #magic #trying to cut your losses #platonically married Tubbo and Ranboo

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blerbdrops · 5 years

Text

New Kid (Billy Hargrove X F!Reader)

Howdy folks, sorry I am late! I started school and I am also sorting out my work schedule. Here is part 4 of new kid, thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/following etc! I appreciate you all so so much.

Summary: You’re new in Hawkins, hailing from the big city on the east coast. As a city kid, you think you’ve been stuck here to suffer in a small town, but there’s a certain someone who shakes it all up.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of smoking cigarettes, underage drinking

Taglist: @salemlysi @asheseiler

You sat at your mirror putting on your makeup and getting ready for tonight’s party. You swiped on a tube of red lipstick and pressed your lips together, spreading out the color. Tonight’s outfit consisted of a white cropped tank top with a slightly oversized black cardigan knotted in the front. You had on high waisted black pleather pants, and a black belt with a shiny silver belt buckle. You laced up your old red Doc Martens, they were well-worn and you wouldn’t be too upset if they got scuffed or dirty. Your hair was curled to the nines, sprayed in place so that nothing frizzed out.

“Damn, I look good.” You said to yourself in your mirror. You threw on your denim jacket and pocketed your lipstick and your flask full of whiskey. Moments later, you heard loud beeps coming from outside.

“(y/n)! I think Steve is here to come get you!” Your dad shouts from downstairs. You come downstairs to find your dad is dressed up, with a suitcase at the door.

“Uh. Dad? What’s with the suitcase?”

“I have to go on a road trip, see Uncle Willy about some things.”

Your brows furrowed. “What kind of things?”

“Adult things, kiddo. I’ll be gone for the weekend. I’ll be back sometime on Monday.” He kisses your forehead and heads out for his car. You snag your keys and head out of the house, locking the door behind you. Nancy and Steve greet you right as you slide into the backseat of his BMW.

Nancy lets out a whistle, “You look fantastic (y/n)! Ready to have the best night ever?” She says to you enthusiastically.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s roll!”

You, Nancy and Steve enter the party house. You can feel the bass thumping in the house and your chest. The living room is full of teens with red plastic cups in their hands, dancing drunkenly and laughing. You navigate your way to the kitchen, where the rest of the booze was.

“Hey! You’re that new girl! Come, come get a drink!” It was that kid in your chemistry class, the one that sat next to Billy.

“What’s your name again?” You shout over the music to ask him.

“Oh yeah, I’m Tommy!” He replies cheerfully. “Hey, come on, you look sober!”

You laugh, “It’s because I am. Give me something to drink!”

He hands you a beer, but before you can crack it open he stops you. “I bet you can’t shotgun that!”

“What? Tommy, I could drink you under the table. Stop playin’.” You scoff. This gets the attention of the kids in the kitchen, with some of them ‘ooooh’-ing like owls. Just as this happens, you spot a mop of blond curls make its way to the kitchen where you and Tommy were. Billy eyed you up, taking a look at your outfit before turning his attention to Tommy.

“What’s going on?” He asks Tommy.

“Oh you know, (y/n) over here thinks she can ‘drink me under the table’, her words exact.” He laughs.

Billy slaps five dollars down on the table. “My bets on her. Tommy, you’re a lightweight!”

You laugh out loud. “We’re placing bets now?” You pick up the five and examine it. “Who else is ready to see Tommy lose to the new girl, huh?” You were met with roars of excitement as teens were tossing cash on the table, your pile only slightly bigger than his. Billy watched you, taking a swig out of his can of beer.

“All bets are final, and winner takes all. Let the games begin!” Billy shouts, as you stab the side of your beer can, crack the lid and shotgun it. It empties fast, and you crush it underneath your boot. You continue on to your second one, choosing to chug it. The kids in the kitchen were cheering you on, hearing chants of “Chug! Chug! Chug!” over the Bon Jovi song that was booming throughout the house.

You had finished way too many beers, the beer cans underneath your feet. You were still upright, while Tommy had half a can left. People in the kitchen were chanting your name, but all you did was let out a loud belch. You were met with cheers and claps on your back.

“You give up yet? Ready to throw down the white flag?” You guffawed at Tommy.

“Alright, alright! You win. Fair and square.” He shoves his bet money into your pile and you throw your hands up, inciting more cheers from your crowd of “fans”.

“That’s how you drink Hawkins! That’s how you fuckin’ do it!” You open your flask and take a large swig, feeling its warmth trickle down your throat, feeling some drip down your lips and neck. You close your flask and feel a hard stare on you.

Billy walks over to you and leans up against the counter while you count up and pocket your cash.

“That was pretty impressive, (y/n). Didn’t know you had that kind of fire in you.” He smirks.

You turn to him, uncapping your flask and drinking more out of it. “I’m a woman of many mysteries, Billy.” You laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“And I’m really digging this outfit. Completely different from that goody-two-shoes getup you had on at school today.”

You raised an eyebrow and smiled at him, posing. “Oh? You like what you see?” You do a spin, almost tumbling over.

He laughs at you, helping regain your balance. “Careful. Don’t need you busting your ass because you wanna show off.”

A hearty laugh emits from your belly, then a burp. “Excuse me! Jesus christ.” Your head snapped to the dance floor. You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) by Dead or Alive played through the speakers.

“Are you alright (y/n)?” Billy asks, a bit concerned.

“I’m fantastic! This is my favorite song like, ever! Come dance!”

“(y/n) I can’t dan-” You yanked him by the wrist and dragged him to the dance floor, completely ignoring what he had to say.

You got on the dance floor, and started to bob your head to the synth in the song, getting ready to dance and shout your heart out.

All I know is that to me

You look like you're lots of fun

Open up your lovin' arms

I want some, want some

You spun around, dancing near Billy and trying to get him to loosen up and enjoy the song. You then grabbed his hand and yanked him closer so you two could actually dance. He began to relax and laugh along at you dancing. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about seeing you smile and have fun made his heart flutter.

I set my sights on you

(And no one else will do)

And I, I've got to have my way now, baby

All I know is that to me

You look like you're havin' fun

Open up your lovin' arms

Watch out, here I come

You sang the second verse and pre-chorus, looked at Billy and shot him a wink. He laughed, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round

Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round

You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round

Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round

He grabbed you by your hand and spun you around like you were in a ballroom. He pulled you back into him, your back pressed against his chest. You were twirled out again, only this time you were dipped low, his face close to yours. It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there. You came back up and danced for the rest of the night, laughing and taking the occasional sip from your flask.

As the music died down, you had left the dance floor panting and sweaty, a dewy sheen spread across your face. You stumbled over to the kitchen and grabbed your jean jacket from the counter, making sure your keys were still there and they were. You put on your jacket and walk outside, only to see that Steve’s car was gone.

“Goddamn Steve… and Nancy. Damn ‘em! Damn em to hell.” You spat, staring at the porch. “Now I have to walk and, and I don’t even know where I’m at. And its LATE! Goddamn it!”

“Who are you talking to sweetheart?” Billy asked you. He was leaned against the banister, smoking a cigarette.

“I’m talking to me, genius.” You slurred. “Now I’m talking to you. I wanna go home but I got ditched!” You sulked. You walked over next to the banister where Billy was and plucked the cigarette from his lips. You took a drag and exhaled, letting it escape through your nose and lips. Billy watched your lips wrap around the cigarette, wishing it was him.

“Like what you see?” You shoot him a wink, blowing the smoke away from his face and stubbing out the cigarette.

“Yeah. I kinda do.” He licks his lips, smirking. “Now, tell me (y/n), how exactly are you getting home?”

You sigh frustratedly, “I guess I’m just gonna walk and figure it out.” You took out your flask and opened it to drink, but there was no more whiskey left. You pouted.

“You’re not walking. I’ll take you home.” Billy stands up and offers his hand to you. You slowly push yourself up and gather yourself. You take a look at Billy’s hand and high five it. He looks at you puzzled.

“Fix your face! Is that not why your hand was out?” You asked, words slurring here and there.

“No, smartass. Give me your hand so I can walk you to my car.” He states, the slightest pink flush spread across his face. Giggling, you take his hand into yours and you make your way to his car. He unlocks the passenger side door and opens it for you. You lower yourself in, his hand pressed gently on the small of your back keeping you steady. Billy closes your door and makes his way to the drivers side.

“Where to, gorgeous?” He turns towards you.

“332 Oak Lane.”

He nods, starting up his car. As the drive begins, you notice him slip a glance at you every now and then.

“Hey Hargrove, take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You chuckle at him.

He laughs back, “No picture could capture all that beauty you got.”

Your eyebrows flew up, painting a shocked look on your face. “Oh! Smooth talker over here. Didn’t know you could flirt like that. Color me impressed!”

The ride was peacefully quiet, right up until he pulled up to your house.

“Nice neighborhood.” He says, then continues, turning to look at you. “How will your folks feel about you coming in piss drunk after a successful night out?”

You laugh at his sentiment, catching his gaze. “My dads gone for the weekend. Went outta state to see my uncle. I have the whole place to myself!”

“You.. you’re real cute ya know. Real good lookin’.” You say to him with a dopey smile on your face.

He flushes the softest shade of pink, smiles for a second and licks his lips. “Ah stop it. You’re only saying that because you’re drunk.”

“I am not! It’s true. I might be a little tipsy but.. I am right, you know.” You smile at him.

“Tipsy? You passed that stage after your third beer. (y/n), it’s time you head inside.” He pats your thigh.

You playfully roll your eyes, smiling. You place your hand on top of his and give it a squeeze. “Okay, I guess so. Can you walk me in? My room is up some stairs.”

“And?”

“And I’m scared I’m gonna fall! Please?”

He removes his hand from your thigh. “Alright, I’ll walk you in. Don’t go tellin’ anyone either. I have a reputation to keep.”

You let out a thunderous laugh. “Yeah, okay buddy.” He comes over to your side of the car and opens the door. You shakily get up, feeling the dizziness get to you.

“Easy now. Here, I got you.” He puts your arm over his shoulder and scoops you up, carrying you bridal style to your front porch.

“Oh wow. You’re so strong! I feel like a princess.” You giggle.

“You are. And I work out.” He continues, “Where are your keys?”

You pull out the key that unlocks your front door and pushed it in his hands. He unlocks your front door and uses his back to shut it.

“Alright princess. Where to?” He asks, looking down at you. Your makeup is smudged, your hair frizzed out, your eyes glazed over, flushed pink from all the drinking you had done that night. Even in your disheveled state, he still thought you were gorgeous.

“Up the stairs. You’ll know my room when you see it.” You mumble, the tiredness setting in. Billy walks up the stairs and to your room. He could tell it was your room because of the giant Bon Jovi poster stuck to your door.

“Okay put me down.” You ask, and he lowers you down. You slap the light switch on, illuminating your room. Billy gazes around your room, looking at all the band posters hung up on your wall. You also had christmas lights strung around your room. You had a big bed to yourself, a vanity, a small dresser and a decent sized closet. He noticed one wall void of posters. Instead of posters, you had two guitars mounted on the wall instead. One acoustic, one electric. Underneath the guitars were some amps and other guitar tech.

“You play guitar?” He asks, looking at the guitars, his back turned. You were changing out of your party clothes, leaving you in your tank top and black boyshort underwear. You took a nearby scrunchie and pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

“Oh yeah. Back home I was in a band. Lead guitarist you know. I still got it. Maybe I’ll play for you one day.” You say to him. “I wasn’t blessed with good vocals, my dear, but these hands? God must have took extra time with ‘em.”

“You really are a woman of many mysteries, (y/n).” He turns back around to you, but you had slipped out of the room and into the bathroom next door. He walks out of your room and finds you hunched over the porcelain throne, emptying out your insides.

Billy kneels down next to you, feeling his large warm hand on your back.

“I HATE throwing up!” You say, face still in the toilet. “Shit is so gross.”

He chuckles. “Maybe you shouldn’t have started that drinking contest with Tommy then.”

You lift your head up, wiping your tears away and reaching to flush the toilet. “What was I supposed to do? Let him think he could get away with shit-talking me? Just let him test me?” You and Billy laugh on your bathroom floor. “I’ll have you know, Hargrove, I come from a line of strong drinkers.”

He laughs, “Yeah, and I’m next in line to be the King of England.” He stands up, and holds his hand out to you. He helps you up, and you turn to the sink to wash whats left of your makeup off. You’re both looking at each other in the mirror.

“I look so gross right now.” You mutter, taking out your jar of Noxzema face wash. You ran the water until it was warm and bent down to the sinks level to wet your face.

“I’ve seen worse.” Billy says, looking down at your butt. You popped up from the sink and so did his eyes. You unscrewed your jar of face wash and began rubbing it in. Billy took a seat on top of the toilet, watching you.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay.” You state to him.

“You kickin’ me out (y/n)?”

“No. Just saying you didn’t have to stay. I appreciate it, though.”

He hesitated with his response. Nobody’s ever appreciated me. Or said it out loud, at least, he thought.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm!” You rinse the soap off your face, pat it dry and moisturize with some face cream. You turn to Billy, smiling.

“How do I look?” You say, posing. Some of your hair had stuck to your face while you were washing it, you were in a tank top and underwear. You thought you looked like a mess.

“Like a million bucks, doll.” He chuckles, smiling at you. You turn away and brush your teeth. Here you are, in your home, with local bad boy turned softie Billy Hargrove in your house. You catch his eye, and he just doesn’t stop looking at you, lips slightly parted.

You rinse and spit. “Hey, Hargrove. Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

That snaps him out of his gaze, and his mouth closes. You yawn and stretch, feeling fatigue and the slight pounding of a headache lingering in the back of your head. You shut your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“It’s time for you to get some rest.” Billy looks up and says to you. You nod your head, and you walk over to your room.

“Hey could you like.. turn around or something? I want to change tops.”

“Sure.” He turns his back to you and you grab a large sleepshirt out of your dresser drawer. You peel off the tank top and throw it across your room, allowing you to slip on your big shirt. “Okay, I’m done.”

“You look like a dork.” He says.

“Yeah? It takes one to know one. Dork.” You both chuckle. You crawl into bed and your head sinks into your pillow. You sigh happily.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Not a problem doll.” He shuts off the light and begins to walk out.

Before you fall asleep, you say one last thing to Billy.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not as bad as they say you are, you know.”

Billy becomes bashful at this statement. He’s lucky the lights are out or else she’d see just how red in the face he was. Those words would continue to ring throughout his head for the rest of the night.

Before he had his chance to respond, you had already succumbed to the sweet embrace of slumber. Billy slowly approached your bed, lowered himself down and kissed your forehead. He watched the smallest smile form on your face before you turned over, enveloping yourself in your blankets.

He backed out of the room and went into the bathroom looking for medicine. He takes out two pills of Advil and places them on your nightstand, along with a handwritten note. He leaves your house, locking the door behind him.

There was something about you that struck a chord within Billy somewhere. And it unnerved him to his core.

---

A/N: AW YALL! I LOVE WRITING SOFT BILLY. thanks for reading! as always, i will keep writing as long as you keep reading. feedback is always appreciated. my requests are open for you all. come chat! see u in part 5

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fic #blerbdrops original content

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mrs-hollandstan · 5 years

Note

I am in LOVE with mob Tom's sister x mob!Harrison so what if maybe they decide to have a kid and you could write about how they have to tell tom that haz knocked his sister up

Oof, I’m in love with it too. I was thinking, if people were down enough, I could turn it into like a little miniseries. (Meeting, starting to date, him catching you, getting shot all over again, pregnancy, wedding, babies.) Ughh, I just really love it.

Based off of these: x x x x

Lemme know if you want a miniseries!

The weeks prior to Harrison being shot, the two of you were inseparable. Tom put the both of you up in a secret house, the both of you left alone for long periods of time. Harrison proposed to you in bed one night, your leg draped over his waist after having just made love for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He loved you more than anything, and even though you’d only been together for nearly six months now, he wanted you safe as his wife. He wanted to know that you’d never lose him. But then the topic of something more came up.

“I wanna have your baby. I wanna know that no matter what happens to you… no matter what happens to me, we have a little one to carry the Osterfield genes on.”

“Now?” He asks as you trace the scar across his abdomen. You nod after a silent moment, eyes finding his. He stares down at you, eyes searching your own for doubt that you don’t find. You’re ready. He knows you are and in that moment, as you climb over him again, he doesn’t think of Tom. He doesn’t think of having to tell your brother that he got you pregnant. He doesn’t think of having to tell Tom he’s going to be an uncle. Not until you’re sitting on the bathroom floor, a timer going off that tells you to look at a pregnancy test. Not until you pick it up, and the word pregnant is written across it. Not until you’re clutching onto him and crying into his bare shoulder and he’s stroking up your back. Only then is he nervous.

“He… is going to fucking kill me.” Harrison mutters, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looks down at the ultrasound you’d had that morning. You giggle and lean over him, hands pressed to his chest,

“I won’t let him. Neither will this little one. He’s gonna be wrapped around their little finger.” Harrison can’t help the pure anxiety coursing through his veins. Tom doesn’t even know you’re engaged. Now, to pile on top of it, you’re pregnant with his baby. When the door opens, Harrison hides the sonogram, Tom looking between the two of you before you’re standing straight and pulling him into you in a crushing hug.

This is the first time you’ve lived away from him ever, and Harrison knows how hard it is. How hard it is for you to be away from him. You love Harrison, there’s no doubt about it, but you and Tom were the first of each other’s friends. You shared parents. You were practically born together.

Tom holds you linger than expected, his eyes closing. He sighs, his jaw clenching as he holds you with a hand at the middle of your back. When he leans back, he caresses your cheek, cocking his head when you nuzzle into his palm,

“Harrison keepin you safe? Or do I have to reopen that wound?” His eyes cut to Harrison and you both can see the start of a smirk. Haz smiles, looking down,

“She’s safer here with me than she is with you ever.” He stands when Tom sets his duffel back in the door, walking forward and pulling him into a bro hug. They both sigh before Tom stands back,

“So… you have something to tell me?” You nod and walk forward again, wrapping your arm around Harrison’s waist. Tom looks between the two of you, licking his lips before you hold your hand out, flaunting the diamond off. Tom stares down at it before his eyebrows raise and he swallows,

“Wow… uhm… congratulations guys.” You bite your lip,

“Tell me you’re not upset.” Tom shakes his head,

“I’m not. You’re…” He sighs, looking up and taking your hand to turn it and make the ring sparkle, “ its been… almost four months since I found out about the two of you. I’ve come to terms with it. He did… literally take a bullet for you.” Looking up at Harrison, he eyes him for a second before nodding,

“Obviously you don’t need my blessing… sewing she’s already got the ring but… I would’ve given it to you if you came to me.”

“Maybe not anymore but…” Both Harrison and Tom look at you, Tom frowning,

“What?”

“That doesn’t help my case Y/N.” Harrison speaks up, your eyes finding his. You tsk and step between the two men, holding your hand out,

“Give it to me Harrison.” He huffs, but hands you the glossy photo paper, eyes locked on Tom.

“Okay… hear me out. After Harrison almost died… I didn’t wanna chance losing him again. So I took out a sort of insurance policy.” Holding the ultrasound out, he looks at it, taking it into his fingers and frowning. He had no idea what he was looking at. A tiny little white blob in the middle of a black picture. He looks up,

“What the fuck am I looking at?” You giggle, bending the picture back,

“That… is your little niece or nephew.” It clicks in Tom’s mind and his heart stops as he looks up at you,

“You’re pregnant?” He practically squeaks. The smile on your face is bright and Tom can’t deny that its adorable. You always used to play with baby dolls and plan out your baby’s names and even though he’s a little angry, he wants so badly to spin you around the room.

“You… got my sister pregnant?” Harrison feels like throwing up like you did this morning. The room is spinning and he has to sit down,

“It was my idea. I want a baby so if something else happens to him, I have this little one that resembles his daddy and-”

“So now that you’re knocked up, I can kill him?”

“No… I suggested it. If you wanna kill someone, kill me.”

“But he put her there.” Staring at him for a moment, he finds your eyes when you don’t move or speak,

“What?” You open your mouth, words not coming out for a moment,

“Y-you’re actually excited.”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“But… you said she… Tommy… you want a niece.” He scoffs, eyesunamused, but you know that look. There’s more behind it. He hates to admit it, but he knows you know. He’s your brother. He knows you like the back of his hand like you know him. He crosses his arms,

“Fine… I just… I remember what you were like as a little girl. Always talking about having babies of your own and what you’d name them and being a good mummy to your baby dolls. You’re… this, I think, is your calling.” You smile and throw yourself into his arms. He holds you. He knows just as much as you do that this is where you belong. All you’ve ever wanted was to be a mum. To be a wife. To love and hold and protect someone that you created with someone you loved. And that was Harrison. He sighs and there’s tears in his eyes,

“I wish mum and dad could see you now. She’d be so proud. A fiancée and a mummy-to-be.” Tears sting your own eyes as he squeezes you impossibly closer. Harrison stands, having collected himself and swallows,

“I have a family now. That… near death experience really rang my bell, but I want her Tom. It’s always been her and that’s why I proposed. Because she’s my whole world. She’s everything and I don’t want to risk losing her or her losing me again. You put us up here and it really was an eye opener. And now… after having suggested getting pregnant and actually committing to it… I’m ready to be the man you’re pushing me to be. I’m almost a husband. And I’m a father now. Which makes me your brother for real now. I get that you don’t… approve at some points, but I care about her, I care about our baby. I care… about you.” Tom’s arm is draped over your shoulders, eyes locked on Harrison. He purses his lips before he nods,

“Alright… you’ve got another chance.”

“Not that you fucked up the first time. He’s just dumb.” You comment, blank faced. Tom tsks,

“She gets herself knocked up and she gets cocky.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist. He hugs you into him for a moment before looking to Harrison who’s eyes are locked on you in absolute adoration. He sighs before holding his arm out,

“Get in here you fuck.” Harrison chuckles before wrapping an arm around you and an arm around Tom. The arm of Tom’s going around Harrison reaches up to ruffle his already messy blonde locks. He smiles, staring down at you,

“Now you’re stuck with me ya know. I got your sister pregnant so that baby is Holland and Osterfield.” Tom tsks,

“I don’t do partners.” Harrison smiles,

“But you better believe that when that baby is laid in your arms, you’re hooked. They’ll have you completely wrapped around your finger.” Tom smiles back,

“Yeah… that’s just how there mummy is. Can’t live without her… can’t live without the kid.” You giggle, laying your head against Harrison’s chest,

“Best daddy, uncle duo ever.” Tom clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes,

“If I’d have had my way without you crying for two seconds, he woulda been on his ass seven months ago. Now you’re takin his last name AND havin his kid.” You sigh,

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harrison smiles, rubbing your back,

“Me neither.”

#harrison x reader #tom holland x reader x harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield blurbs #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #mobster!tom #mob!au #mob!harrison #mob!haz #my writing #blurbs #headcanons

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ask-the-richmond-newsies · 7 years

Note

💋 for everybody

💋 What was their first kiss like? How did they feel about it?

[Squeaks] *scrunches up his face* I ain’t nevah kissed no one!

[Skunk] *sticks out his tongue* Yuck!

[Gills] My first kiss was wit’ this girl I spent da whole summer on the beach wit’. Her an’ her family was jus’ visitin’. It was a goodbye kiss, since they was leavin’. So, it was kinda bittersweet.

[Sniffer] Mine was when I was ten. This lil girl kissed me right outside da church. I was more confused ‘bout it than anythin’. *shrugs*

[Duke] Do I really hafta talk ‘bout this mushy crap? *huffs a sigh* Fine. I ain’t nevah kissed no one. Ya happy now?

[Stars] That’s okay, Duke. I ain’t never kissed no one neither.

[Pockets] Well, my first kiss was, uh, interestin’. *laughs nervously* Ya see, Keebler’s ex-girlfriend was harrassin’ us, so long story short, I kissed him to get her to leave us alone. I ain’t evah kissed nobody ‘fore an’ I ‘specially ain’t kissed no boys ‘fore! I kinda… freaked out. It made me feel really confused an’ nervous. Made me realize dat I liked him liked him an’ dat scared me. An’ then I was real worried ‘bout how he felt an’ if I ruined our friendship. *sighs but then smiles a little* But it all worked out in the end, though!

[Mouth] I don’t really ‘member it too much. I think it was one of my sistah Annabelle’s friends. I think it mighta been a dare. I dunno, I think there mighta been some laughin’ aftahwards. I ain’t got no hard feelin’s ‘bout it or nothin’ if it was, though. *shrugs*

[James] My first kiss was with the girl I was potentially going to be betrothed to. Her name was Edith and our parents thought we may have been a good match. We figured we might as well get it over with and it was just awkward and uncomfortable, seeing as neither of us had feelings for the other. Then after my parents died and my fortune was gone, her family wanted nothing to do with me. They wanted her to marry up in society, not down. Which, of course, is perfectly understandable.

[Poe] So, when I was much younger, there was a lil girl around my age with her mother that came into my mother’s dress shop lookin’ for a flower girl dress for her. Durin’ her fittin’, all the grown ups in the shop thought it would be fun ta have a lil mock weddin’ and ‘cause I was the only boy there, I got to be the groom. So, my first kiss was when I got to kiss my “bride.” *laughs* It was fun. An’ at least my ma got ta see me get married…

[Monty] Well, I don’t think anybody knows this, but my first kiss was actually wit’ my girlfriend, Badger. We was jus’ havin’ a good ole time talkin’ an’ knittin’ then our friend Grammar tried to get me to kiss her, but I was too nervous! So, she convinced Badger to do it. She kissed me an’ *sighs happily* I was surprised an’ giggly an’ giddy! *chuckles* It was magical!

[Fox] When I was ‘bout thirteen, I had a bit of a crush on a friend of mine. I highly suspected that she liked me too, so I asked her 'bout it ta which she shyly answered “yes.” So, I kissed her. It was a lil awkward but it was still real nice. We tried datin’ fer a lil while but it didn’t last too long. We decided we was better as friends.

[Chickadee] When I was twelve, I had this real annoyin’ friend *smirks at Fox* an’ for some odd reason, I decided that I liked him. Apparently, he liked me too an’ he confronted me about it. Now, this was when I was still shy around boys, hard ta believe, I know–

[Fox] *jokingly* Yeah, 'specially now that you’s a tart.

[Chickadee] *lets out a small gasp* Fox! Take that back!

[Fox] *chuckles* Oh, y'know I’s only teasin’, Vixen! I’s sorry. I take it back. *jokingly* 'Sides, you’s more of a mini tart, anyways. A tartlet, if ya will.

[Chickadee] *smacks him in the arm* Fin!

[Fox] Ok, ok. I’s sorry! I’s done makin’ jokes! *laughs softly*

[Duke] *rolls his eyes* Thank God ya don’t live in the house no more!

[Chickadee] Oh, shut it! You know you’ve missed me!

[Duke] *grumbles because he knows she’s right*

[Chickadee] Anyways, like I was sayin’, my first kiss was with my annoyin’ but still kinda sweet friend. It wasn’t my best kiss, but it definitely wasn’t my worst either! Now that’s a story for another time! *laughs a little*

[Tommy] *dreamily* I was sixteen an’ her name was Marcie Wheeler. She sure was somethin’! *remembers himself* Right, so. I had taken her on a first date an’ kissed her on her front porch at the end of the night. It was great.

[Ticker] My first kiss was on the playground at school. I believe I was about ten years old. If I remember correctly, her name was Minnie. Somehow she had convinced me to play house with her and her friend Henrietta, so I was her “husband” and Henrie was our “baby.” She kissed me because “that’s what husbands and wives are supposed to do.” Lookin’ back on it, it was actually really cute. At the time, I wanted to “win” the game, so I thought I was doin’ great. *laughs softly*

#and no Ticker's not a ghost. his answer just exists outside of space and time. it's just there. don't question it too much lol #character traits #ask game

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