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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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—business man

SUMMARY | tip number one to survive new york: If you see a blonde british boy running up and offering you pond water, run.

PAIRING | tommyinnit x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNINGS | none

WORD COUNT | 1.5k+

AUTHORS NOTES | i've gotten back into the swing of things haven't i

🛹 Masterlist 🛹 Navigation 🛹 Rules 🛹

New York was many things. Dirty. Expensive looking while managing to be cheap in quality. Crowded. A tourist trap. But most of all, it was captivating.

Try as you may, the beauty of the heavily graffitied alleyways and skateparks was not lost on you. Each act of vandalism, each scuff left behind from a sneaker as someone lost their footing on a halfpipe, told a story. Perhaps it wasn't the content of these stories that held your interest in an iron clad grip, but rather the fact that they weren't yours. And you had always had a knack for poking your curiosity where it didnt belong.

Perhaps that's why you didn't do the sensible thing that afternoon and turn to walk away as a yelling British teenager approached you with a bottle of water.

All you had really wanted was to take a quick walk down to your favorite corner store to stock up on the basics for your tiny apartment that cost an arm and leg to live in. Maybe pick up a cookie or something from the bakery near it on the way back.

You figured it wouldn't take long, considering you knew a short cut. Straight through a little plaza located right next to a far more popular park. It was no diamond in the rough so to speak. There were probably dozens like that one sprinkled all around the city, but it offered some relief for your aching feet. If you cut through there and past a little path hidden among some bushes in the corner of it, you'd shave roughly ten minutes off your walk. It was either you took that or you would have to start investing in better shoe support.

"Hey! Hello there!"

Sounds of surrounding foot traffic blended from person to person. No one conversation stuck long enough for you to make out what was being said, but it was fun to try and imagine. Occasionally an odd quote in passing would elicit a harsh laugh from you before it was disguised as a poor cough.

"Hulloooo. Over here!"

Was someone trying to talk to you?

Your brows furrowed, picking up the sound of someone's voice for the second time that past minute, seemingly directed right at you. Your neck swiveled around a quick ninety degrees, hoping to all hell this wasn't some weird catcalling ploy. But all thoughts of anything like that vanished as soon as you found the grinning source of your confusion.

He had the wildest blond hair you had ever seen. It curled into ringlets in some places and clung to other parts of his head messily. Like he had slept wrong on a long car trip across the country.

His hoodie, as red as a crayon straight out of the box, was marked with small print you couldn't make out. It was only until he had begun to get closer—two more people in tow—did you realize you had been stood staring at his hoodie for longer than intended.

"Excuuuuse me!" There was no mistake now that you were the target of this person's interest. That was clear enough in the way he sprinted over, shoes slapping noisily across concrete, just to reach your side.

It wasn't uncommon to be flagged down with strangers holding stuff on the bustling streets of the big apple. Some were nicer than others, simply offering a look at their product before moving on when they got no response. Others took to sneakier and more forceful methods. They were one of the many reasons you had taken to donning a resting bitch face.

"Why hello there! Don't you look parched?" His smile was too wide, too genuine, to be true. Eyes crinkling at the edges with a hint of humor you had the feeling you wouldn't, or rather couldn't, understand even if you tried.

Instincts told you to wave him off and keep going on your merry way ignoring the pain in your feet. But you took one more look at him with his loud accent and crooked smile and decided not to.

"Not really." Your shoulders moved in an up and down motion, shrugging off whatever sales pitch he had set up. "Was about to hop on over to the store. Gonna get a drink there anyways." A lie. But like I said before, you had a habit of becoming to invested in situations like these. And maybe you wanted to see how he responded to your bluff. Just a little.

"Well fair pedestrian—" Wow he really was loud. Energetic too from the looks of it. "—what if I told you I could offer something far better than any bland soda you Americans drink? Hmm?"

"Oh really?" You flicked your gaze to the plastic bottle crinkling in his hand, noting the way it seemed to swirl around with bits of silt and salt in it. "Just looks like pond water to me."

"Ah! A smart customer. Got a melon on their head aye?" He turned to look at his companions now. More specifically at the one holding a camera, a detail you hadn't noticed until now. Not that it bothered you. People always had cameras out nowadays. especially in a city as famous as this.

"So it's just pond water. I'm assuming from that fountain over there?"

"Right on! Big Drink, the water of the future."

Okay maybe you were having a bit too much fun humoring this kid.

"Alright mister businessman." He puffed his chest out at your title, and while you couldn't tell if it was for the presence of a camera or simply because it filled him with a sense of pride, it brought a smile to your face nonetheless. "Say I do decide to take a shot in the dark at your new product. What's in it for me? And more importantly, will my wallet be hurting after our exchange of goods and or services." You winced at that last bit, making a clicking sound with your tounge. "Maybe I can rephrase that better next time."

But the lanky figure next to you didn't seem to mind, letting out a laugh that could only be described as boisterous before straightening back up.

"Well, you'd be the first to invest in this promising product, only at the cost of one hundred dollas! But for you I'll add on a discount of ninety nine percent." His accent thickened a considerable amount on the last bit, presumably with excitement.

"Very generous of you mister businessman."

"Thats mister businessman Tommy to you."

Alright. So you were now standing here, fishing for your wallet in front of three strangers, one of which you were now on a first name basis with. Now that could either be the set up for a very bad stand-up comedy joke, or something to be concerned about. But for some reason, it was the most fun you had had in ages.

"I'll be expecting my share of the cut in the mail when you rag tag lot make it big. Make it out to one (Y/n) the fabulous. I prefer hard cold cash, preferably delivered in an envelope" Your laugh was full of childlike enjoyment as you handed Tommy a crumpled five-dollar bill in exchange for the water bottle. Only after he paused to scribble something on the lable—a detail that you missed.

However, what you didn't miss was the way his smile faltered a little, clearly not expecting the surplus of money even if so miniscule. But you got the feeling he wasn't upset. Just surprised someone would do that in the first place. And honestly, so were you—although not regretful. Still. Bye bye cookie you had been looking forward to. Hello pond water that smelled faintly of piss.

"Consider the other four dollars money for the postage when I get my share of the cut."

Tommy shoved the bill in his pocket. He looked at you with a different flash of something in his baby blues now. A more friendly look—if that was even possible. He was probably the most friendly person you had met, especially on the streets.

"Trust me, you'll get it if it's the last thing I ever do." He gave a goofy salute in your honor, causing one of the camera men from behind to giggle before quieting quickly.

"Good luck with the rest of your sales Tommy." You offered a small wave as you walked off, clutching your newly acquired prize loosely.

Common sense told you to throw it in the first trashcan you passed. Getting rid of whatever plague the liquid might be containing.

But the longer you walked, thinking about that bright smile and genuine joy you had just encountered, your grip only tightened on the plastic.

It wasn't until you were three blocks away from the plaza did you see the number hastily scrawled on the edge of the handmade label. Right next to big bold words, reading Big Drink!!!!!™️

You were quick to utilize it. Probably too quick to be honest.

text sent at 6:21 pm do you give your number out to all your coustomers? must be bad for buisness

text received at 6:21 pm only the fuinny ones

text received at 6:22 pm fuck

text received at 6:22 pm *funny

Yeah. The water bottle was worth it.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x y/n #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt tommyinnit #cc!tommyinnit #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you #dsmp x y/n #x reader #one shot #fluff #imagine

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siennafrxst · 11 months

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↳ dare 𖤐𓈒࣪₊˚

pairing: tommy innit x female reader

word count: 0.9k words

cw: swearing, cringe 😍

“Okay.”

And then the blond teenager walks over towards the rollercoaster ride, sliding into a seat. The simple act left Wilbur and Tubbo absolutely dumbfounded. They hadn’t expected him to execute the dare so smoothly—not to mention that he accepted the challenge so nonchalantly as well. But, what had they expected? It was Tommy Innit himself.

Tommy calmly sits down beside a girl around his age, turning to face her and spot her slightly bewildered expressions.

I hope to god that she won’t recognize me.

The woman continues to eye the blond curiously, her dark eyebrows creasing in deep thought.

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” She points a finger at him, still trying to figure out who he was.

Shit.

Tommy wears an overly exaggerated expression on his face, scoffing at her accusation. “No, no way. I guess I just have one of those faces, you know?”

Upon hearing his voice, the woman lit up, the gears in her head practically spinning as she finally solves the big mystery.

“You’re Tommy Innit, aren’t you?”

Hesitantly, Tommy sighs heavily in defeat. “Yeah, you got me. I’m that annoying kid who plays Minecraft.”

The woman chuckles softly. “I knew it! My best friend loves you.”

Tommy gives the girl a skeptical look as she emphasizes the word ‘love,’ causing her to shake her head profusely.

“Noo, not in that way… okay maybe in that way but don’t tell her that.”

Tommy chuckles in amusement at the unknown woman’s sly remark. Speaking of unknown, he realized that he still hadn’t gotten her name.

“I like you. What’s your name?”

The woman smiles warmly before responding. “Well, I’m-”

She suddenly cuts herself off when the ride bumpily starts, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Holy shit it’s starting. We’re all gonna die!” Tommy exclaims dramatically.

“No we’re not don’t jinx it!”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “By the way, your name? We might die before I even get to hear it.”

“Right! It’s Y/N. Call me Y/N- OH MY GODDDDD!”

The rollercoaster made a huge sudden drop, completely petrifying the hell out of both the teenagers.

“HOLY FUCK WE’RE DYING!” Tommy yells at the top of his lungs.

The two teenagers began to deliriously scream at the top of their lungs, disturbing everyone else on the ride and the nearby viewers.

When he thought he had lost his voice, he suddenly felt a harsh grip on his arm, turning to face the source of the squeeze.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

“SUPPRESSING THE FEAR? I DON’T KNOW I THOUGHT THIS WOULD HELP!” Y/N exclaims in argument.

“WELL, CLEARLY, IT DOESN’T. ALSO YOU SQUEEZE REALLY HARSHLY SO PLEASE LET GO.”

She glares at him carefully, hesitating to let go before she ultimately does, breathing calmly in an attempt to relax herself.

That was when the rollercoaster made another drop—this time higher and faster than the last. The two went back to screaming for their lives—arguably even louder this time.

At this point Tommy has never been more terrified for anything in his life. In a desperate move, he reluctantly grabs onto Y/N’s hand, gripping harder more than she ever did.

Y/N whips her head to face the guilty blonde, surprised at his sudden touch. “NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

“SHUT UP IT HELPS!” Tommy awkwardly declares, earning an eyeroll from the teenager beside him. That was when he felt her squeeze his hand back, the both of them now put their screaming to a halt, and instead holding each other as though it were their last day on Earth.

After a few more twists and turns, the ride finally slowed down, indicating the end of the bumpy journey. The two were completely breathless, still hand in hand as they took a moment to recollect themselves.

“Oh, thank Christ it’s over,” Y/N says, still panting.

Tommy nods in agreement. “I’m not religious, but—gasp—same.”

She turns to the breathless blonde, who was also gasping for air from all the screaming they had done. “By the way, why did you even take the seat beside mine? There were still other empty seats.”

He sighs dramatically. “Why do you have to ask such hard questions?”

Y/N chuckles softly, creasing her eyebrows at his remark. “Sorry! I didn’t know it was that hard.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, it’s fine, you deserve to know anyway.”

The blond blue-eyed teenager pauses for a brief moment, leaving Y/N more intrigued at what he was about to say.

“It was just because of a stupid dare from Wilbur, it’s—nothing.”

Tommy knew that he shouldn’t have hesitated as it would only make his lie more obvious. The dare part, obviously, wasn’t the lie. But the part about it being nothing, on the other hand…

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Really? What was the dare?”

Tommy scoffs lightly. “Just wait for the vlog to be uploaded, you impatient bastard.”

She shrugs at his response. “Alright, fine.”

He stares at Y/N, his mind seeming to be preoccupied with unknown thoughts. Their eyes connected in an unexplainable feeling, that singular moment seeming to be lasting for eternity.

After what felt like forever, Tommy awkwardly chuckles, standing up to step up away from the rollercoaster. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

A warm grin forms on Y/N’s face. “May our paths cross again.”

Tommy returns a similar smile before leaving the area, making his way back to Wilbur and Tubbo.

15 minutes ago…

“Alright, Tommy, I got a dare for you.”

Tommy turns to the brunet, raising a curious eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Well then, hit me with your worst.”

Wilbur’s lips curve into a playful smile, clearly looking forward to this. “Alright then. I dare you to…

…go over to the most attractive person on the ride.”

surprise surprise, I’m familiar with the dsmp. well, not really, my friend kinda got me into it (hence the “oh my best friend loves you!” part) but since I know there’s a lot of fans out there I decided to write something up for y’all.

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated. <33

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painless-innit-colourful · 7 months

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do? this in your style

@rozugold HAPPY SECOND BIRTHDAY PAINTED ILLUSIONS!! my weird stepchild & also I'm so surprised I hadn't done this already. anyway

#can't wait to tell rozu about the process behind this one it involved a busy flat party & accidentally dying my hair #dream smp #crim arts #tommyinnit #painted illusions #dsmp cosplay #tw blood #oh and this one has some of the best blooper shots as well #dsmp fanart #first time making art in the flat :)

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rat-rosemary · 9 months

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I was going to scream about how I can't read fics with antagonistic Dream anymore because his character is just so badly written and once but then I started thinking about an au where Dream is an actual interesting character and I've come up with two Tommy-centric hero aus

Vigilante Tommy gets in a fight with hero Dream while on a patrol, asks about Dream's ring in an attempt to distract him. Dream, who loves his fiances so much and will absolutely take any chance to talk about them is stoked to stop the fight to show off his minecraft themed engagement ring and tell Tommy (and Tubbo, who demands to be put on speaker so he can ask Dream about where he got the ring) all about his soon to be husbands (The bench trio ends up getting invited to Dream's wedding, Tommy very proudly being the flower boy) (Featuring: Queer platonic bench trio and Tommy being a menace on the internet)

And a second, much angstier au

Standard vigilante Tommy villain sbi found family, heroes Sapnap and George being the main antagonists. They target the syndicate and anyone related to them in any way, fighting them in a harsh and brutal way that makes it clear they're "shooting" to kill. The two of them used to be in a trio with the hero DayDream, being know as a trio that was actually pretty good at descalation and taking down villains without too much damage to the villain or the space they're fighting in. That is, until DayDream suddenly stopped appearing publicly almost a month ago, George's and Sapnap's behavior changing completely since then. The reason why is a mystery to Tommy until later, when he meets Dream and discovers that the reason George and Sapnap are like this now is because Dream got badly injured when he intercepted a test biologic bomb Villain!Wilbur had thrown at a group of civilians on an attack almost a month ago, and he has been getting sicker and sicker since then, with their only hope of restoring his health being figuring out what the fuck was on that bomb. But even still, he might never recover.

#the dog barks #dream smp #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #dsmp au #yeaaaaahhhh #ive been brainstorming these bitches #from the first au #dream is getting married to George and Sapnap #so #dnn #skeppy was the one who made the rings #tommy posts a shot of a bunch of heroes in a room with the words 'they dont know they're not invited to Dream's wedding because of #transphobic and anti-mutant comments and I am'#tommy is *very* smug about being invited to the wedding #even more about being the flower boy #hes also the one who makes the wedding dresses! (he begged to be the one to make them)#dream is the one who helps bemch trio figure out they want to be queerplatonic partners #oh! and bench trios vigilante code names to each other are King for Tubbo. Poet for Ranboo and Soldier for Tommy #tubbo #ranboo #bench trio #Sapnap #georgenotfound #dsmpshipping #second au!!!#I HIT 3O TAGS!!! NOOOOOO #ill ramble more in the replies or ill reblog with more tags #THEY CANNOT SILENCE MEEEEEEE #twin aus

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rockstar-pinkbug · 3 months

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Sorry Boys AU one-shot idea. (Zombie apocalypse) (kinda mixing Sorry Boys with their CC selves but still)

(I can't write for shit so have these little ideas. You can write something with either of these ideas, I won't ask for credit. Though I would like to see what you do with them.)

(Sorry if this is terrible)

Tommy and Ranboo have been surviving in this apocalypse for so long. It hurts, and their tired. Today is Wilbur's birthday... grief is overwhelming.

So, Tommy and Ranboo go to an area that is mostly zombie proof and hop on a stage plug their phones into the speakers and begin blasting all of Lovejoy songs as well as Wilbur Soot's sole songs.

(Version 1 sad ending)

Zombur walks around in a horde and then hears the music. The rest of the zombies just ignore it and continue going. But Zombur stops walking. He's entranced by the music. He doesn't remember it. He doesn't remember anything, really. He doesn't even recognize that's his own voice singing. He's just standing there. He's crying. He doesn't know why, but the music makes him feel something. He feels sad, yet he doesn't know why. He'll forget this moment happened when the music stops playing, but for now, he listens in silence. In mourning, yet he doesn't even know why he's mourning.

(Version 2 happy ending)

(In this version, there is a sort of cure for the virus, yet it isn't known. When a zombie sees or hears something(something, it can't be someone) familiar, they slowly gain their memories back, and their brain fights off the virus, turning them into half-zombies in a way. Their body is still that of a zombie, but their mind is that of a human. I came up with this on the spot cause I wanted to make a happier version.)

Zombur walks around in a horde and then hears the music. The rest of the zombies just ignore it and continue going. But Zombur stops walking. He's entranced by the music. He's slowly beginning to remember himself before all of this. The more music that plays, the more he remembers about himself. He snaps out of it once the music stops. He's himself again! He's Wilbur! He runs away from the horde.

Eventually, Zombur reunites with Ranboo and Tommy, who, at first, try to kill him and then are shocked to see he's suddenly no longer trying to attack them. And that he can talk again. Like the virus has no effect on him anymore. It's currently an interesting reunion, but it's a welcome one.

#the sorry boys #sorry boys #sorry #tommyinnit #ranboo #wilbut soot #zombur #one shot idea

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owlwithatypewriter · 11 months

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Flower Bud 🌻

AO3 Link

Warnings: Minor injuries, fae-adoption (aka kidnapping), possessive Wilbur Soot

"You look like a wrong'un."

It probably wasn't the best thing to say, considering the look that was returned, but Tommy didn't care - he didn't have the time or patience for manners, not in the middle of the forest, not when he was reeling with a concussion and cradling his broken fingers to his chest. He glared right back at the brunette beanpole, widening his stance so the soft spring breeze wouldn't topple him.

"Pardon," the beanpole said, chocolate-gold eyes wide in surprise, "I'm a what?"

"A wroh-ung-un," Tommy emphasized the word, giving it an additional syllable to make his point. He really was - looking the man up and down, he could see that his clothes, though appearing to be common (a trench coat in summer, really?) were made of high-quality silks and leathers, and his oddly-large ears hung with silver and gold chains that dangled priceless gems. Something stirred in the back of his mind, something about jewels and unknown people in the forest, but it was quickly squashed by the ache in his skull.

The man tilted his head to the side, earrings jingling like wind chimes as he looked Tommy up and down. His mouth quirked, as though he found the boy's rumpled appearance amusing, and his shoulders relaxed. Folding his arms behind his back, he asked, "And what must one do to be a 'wrong one'?" The phrase fell oddly from his lips, as though he was tasting it as he spoke.

Something - probably self-preservation, or basic street smarts - told Tommy not to answer, to turn around and walk away, but he'd never been one for thinking twice in a situation. "Y'know," he said, waving his unbroken hand about, "like, wrong stuff. Luring kids with candy. Vandalizing public parks. Kidnapping innocent children. Being a - a wrong'un ."

The man - Beanpole, Tommy decided, since despite his posh mannerism he had yet to introduce himself - Beanpole blinked, and there was something amused in his gaze now. "Well, I can assure you, I haven't been luring any children about with candy, or vandalizing any public parks. I don't believe I am one of those 'wrong-ones' you are looking for."

Tommy snorted. "You don't look for wrong'uns, they just find you." He huffed.

"Hmm." Beanpole tapped his chin, looking Tommy up and down as he considered his words of wisdom. "Well, I am not a wrong'un," he stumbled a bit at smooshing the words together the way Tommy had, "and you don't seem to be one either-"

"O'course I ain't!"

"-so, may I have your name?"

A voice screamed in Tommy's head, telling him no-no-no-no-no, blasting past the building migraine. He wavered a bit on his feet, and Beanpole tilted his head but didn't move to touch him. More thoughts crowded his mind, trying to push past the ache, screaming about the significance of pointed ears and mushrooms in fields, but he battered them back.

"Nah." He said, shaking his head (and immediately regretting it). "I don't give my name to randos in the woods." A quick glance around showed they were standing in a clearing, a small babbling brook nearby, and a hawthorn tree twisting behind Beanpole. It was a nice spot - he couldn't remember ever having been here before, despite years exploring the forest while dodging his chores. Beanpole opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off. "What're you doing here anyway? Kind of a weird place for a noble to hang out, innit?"

"A noble?" Beanpole shoved his hands in his coat pocket, rocking back on his heels a bit. Tommy risked a glance down and took note of the fancy and oddly-clean leather boots he was wearing. "What makes you say that?"

The teen snorted. "Nobody dresses like that," he gestured to all of Beanpole with his unbroken hand, "in the woods unless they have money to burn." He took another look around, trying to spot a horse grazing in the surrounding trees, but there was nothing more than a curious squirrel rummaging through the flowers curling around the base of the hawthorn.

There were a lot of flowers, actually, of all kinds, in all colors - some that Tommy had never seen before. They overtook the tall grass, heavy heads bobbing in the gentle breeze. Alliums, tulips, wild roses, lavender, asters, Queen Anne's lace, oxeyes - even some water lilies bobbing near the edge of the brook, and a cluster of sunflowers taller than either of them near a break in the trees, large disc florets reaching towards the sun as it lingered overhead.

"Wait, is this…?" Tommy glanced at his feet and saw a few clutches of mushrooms hiding beneath the grass, sparkling oddly in the sun. His head snapped up and he stared at Beanpole, who looked smug. "Holy shit, are you a fairy trapper?"

Smug was exchanged for shock. "A what?" Beanpole sputtered, eyes wide in disbelief.

"A fairy trapper - y'know, those stupid bastards who go around planting flowers in forests and trying to trick fairies out of their name!" Tommy snorted, kicking at a daisy sprouting by his feet. "Damn, you must have wasted a ton of Magi-grow to get these so big. Fuckin' rich folk…"

Beanpole still looked slightly baffled, but he brought his wits back enough to ask, "Why would anybody think they could trap a fae with flowers?"

"It's what the fuckers like, innit?" Tommy shuffled back a step, nearly knocking over a large toadstool. "They live in 'em and shit."

"Live in - how would a fae fit inside a flower?" Beanpole sounded torn between amusement and exasperation.

"They're tiny, ain't they?" Tommy held up his hand and stretched his thumb and pointer finger apart, showing off a length of about six inches.

"Faeries are, but fae aren't, and a trapper would never find a faerie in the overhill." Beanpole was staring at him as though he had said something incredibly stupid.

"They're the same thing, aren't they? Faeries and fae?" That little niggling in the back of his mind was getting louder, whispering frantically about the mushrooms in the field and how they were planted.

"No, not at all." Beanpole sighed and leaned back against the hawthorn tree, running a hand through his dark curls. He looked oddly exasperated at being questioned on this knowledge. "Faeries are, basically, baby fae. When a faerie reaches maturity, they are considered a true fae."

"Maturity?" Tommy quoted, ignoring the mushrooms at his feet.

Beanpole crossed his arms over his chest as he rolled an answer around in his mind, finger of his left hand tapping against the elbow of his right. "Yes. I believe it would be around…a hundred and eighty years to a mortal, give or take a decade or two."

"Holy shit."

The man snorted as Tommy gaped at him. "Yes, that must seem like a long time to you," he hummed in thought. "How old are you anyway? You don't look to be more than a child."

"Oie, dickhead! I'll have you know I'm a man!"

Beanpole doesn't look convinced. "How old?"

Tommy puffed out his chest as best he could. "I'm fifteen, practically an adult already!"

"Aw!" Beanpole pushed off the tree and beamed at Tommy, taking a step closer and stooping a bit so they were at eye-level. "You're just a kid! A little child. An itty-bitty baby man!" He jeered, bright amusement in his odd eyes.

If his hands were in tip-top condition (and his head wasn't swimming like a fish caught in a whirlpool), Tommy would have lashed out, maybe land a not-quite-serious punch on the man's shoulder in rebuke of his words. Instead, he just took another step back, lips pulled back in a snarl, the familiar rebuke on his tongue. "I'm not a fuckin' child!" He sniffed, tilting his chin up haughtily. "Besides, you're wrong. Baby faeries are called changelings."

Beanpole snorted. "No, they're not." He corrected, though there was amusement coloring his tone. "Changelings are an entirely different thing. The Aos Sí in the northern isles are the only ones near here who use them."

Tommy tilted his head in confusion. "The Is-She?" He copied. "Is she what?" He took a large step forward, past the mushroom clusters, shoving a finger in his face. "You better not be disrespecting women! I'll have you know my many, many wives-"

Beanpole didn't let him finish - he grabbed Tommy's wrist, long, thin fingers wrapping tightly around bruised skin, and tugged him closer. Unsteady on his feet, the boy pitched forward, stumbling against the taller man's chest. He yelped, pain shooting through his broken hand as it was squished between them. Beanpole didn't let up his grip at the sound of pain - instead he wrapped an arm around Tommy's back, forcing him to stand flush with the older man.

"You're not nearly as smart as you make yourself seem, hmm?" The man's voice was taunting, something sharp in it that unsettled Tommy's mind, shaking loose those squashed thoughts from earlier. Mushrooms…pointed ears…unknown forest clearings… "Such a big voice for such a little boy - you're no more than a babe, really." A hand carded through his golden curls, pausing at the crusted blood from where the guard had landed a hit with the butt of her axe. Tommy pressed back against Beanpole's arm, tilting his head back so he could see his face.

The man was looking down at him, but that wasn't right - he wasn't a man. His ears were long and pointed at the tips, dripping with gems and jewels that sparkled with something beyond sunlight. His eyes were a swirling miasma of brown and gold, flecks of otherworldly knowledge embedded deep in the iris. He was smiling widely - too widely, and his teeth were just on the other side of sharp to be human. And there was something in his gaze - something wanting. Something needing. Something dangerous and at the same time soft, sharp but compassionate.

Fairies are territorial, he could hear his teacher reminding them as they sat on wooden benches in the small one-room schoolhouse, you must never allow yourself to get near one. If you happen upon one in the woods, be polite and leave as soon as possible. Never insult a fae. Never question them. They are easily offended and will whisk you away to be their slaves for eternity, if given the chance.

"I-" Tommy croaked, and the fae tilted his head, watching intently as Tommy tried to speak. "I don't know how to clean." He blurted out.

The fae blinked, smile dropping a bit. "What?"

"I'm shit at dusting and - and stuff. Cooking. Burned a salad once." He had - it'd been hilarious in hindsight, but the matron hadn't been pleased. "I'd make a shit slave."

"A slave?" The fae had lost his suave, darkly-mysterious aire and was now staring at Tommy as though he was talking nonsense. "What in the world are you on about?"

"That's what you folk do, innit?" Tommy pressed back against the arm again, but the fae didn't give, keeping him hugged close to his chest. "Y'know, steal humans to be slaves?"

The fae shook his head, expression softening. "Oh - oh no, we don't do that! Not anymore at least," he tacked on in a mutter, then cleared his throat. "Any humans that come to the courts are more like…indentured servants."

"En-den-tur-ed? You take their teeth?!" Tommy didn't know if that was better or worse than just being a slave.

"No!" Beanpole wrinkled his nose at the idea. "No, they work as servants for the court until the magic has embraced them, then they're welcomed into the court as proper fae." He shook his head, pulling Tommy a little closer in a hug. "Honestly, what are they teaching you humans these days?"

Tommy wasn't comforted by the explanation. "So you're gonna indenture me?" He asked cautiously. His teacher had once told them that in order for a fairy - or fae, as Beanpole insisted - to get power over a human, a few different things had to happen. They either needed to know the human's true name, the human had to step into the fairy ring the fae appeared in, or the human had to insult the fae badly enough that the laws of magic required recompense. Tommy knew he hadn't given the fae his name, but he certainly hadn't been holding his tongue while they spoke, and the mushrooms his mushy mind had taken note of earlier had been in a near-circular pattern. He was fairly certain he'd stepped on a few while arguing with the fae.

Beanpole hummed, his hand going back to running through Tommy's curls. "No," he said after a moment, "I don't believe so."

An uncertain hope grew in Tommy's chest. "You're gonna let me go?"

"Oh no," the fae chuckled, and that dark, sharp edge was back. "You're much too precious. I think you would make a perfect faerie."

The hope was snuffed out, replaced with confusion. "You - you said faeries were baby fae," he said. "Hate to tell you king, but I've already grown up."

"That may make the change take longer," the fae sighed, "but I'll be with you every step of the way."

"The change?" Tommy pushed against Beanpole's chest with his good hand and tried to shuffle back, but something was wrapped around his feet. He couldn't look down to see what it was, but when he moved, it tightened.

"Yes." Beanpole finally released him, taking a step back so he could rest his hands on Tommy's shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "Fae aren't born, sunshine. They're made."

Whatever was holding his legs in place had begun to snake up his legs to his back. Tommy glanced down and felt his heart stop at the sight of thick, green vines winding themselves around him, holding him fast. "W-wait, no," he snapped his gaze back to Beanpole, "I don't want this!"

The fae's expression grew soft, and he reached up to cup Tommy's cheeks, paying no attention to the vines snaking their way up his chest, pinning his arms to his sides and chest. "I know it's scary," his voice had grown quiet and it wrapped around Tommy like a blanket of silk. "You'll be alright, I promise. You'll grow up in the Meadow, cherished and treasured as you should be, with all the other little faeries."

In his memory, Tommy would blame his concussion (he did have one, Wilbur would confirm decades later) for the way he leaned forward into Beanpole's palms, for the soft warmth that squeezed his heart at the thought of being cherished , of being wanted . He would blame it for the moment of calm, for the way the gentle magic Beanpole imbued in his voice overtook him, slowing his heart.

The vines curled around his neck, and now there were leaves, sprouting from the greenery, wrapping him up like a cocoon. Beanpole slowly pulled his hands back, grinning when Tommy leaned forward after them. "And then when you're all grown, you'll join me in the court as a prince, with our father and brother."

The panic returned as the fae and his magic stepped back, but before Tommy could open his mouth and insist this was wrong, yell again that he didn't want this, leaves snapped shut over his head, plunging him in darkness. A sweet scent filled the space - he yanked his head back, trying to catch a breath of fresh air, but his head was swimming more than ever. The scent grew stronger, choking him, and then there was nothing but darkness and quiet.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The changing didn't take as long as Wilbur expected, considering the child's feisty attitude. It always took longer when the human was more resistant to the idea. He hummed to himself as the cocoon solidified, slowly turning gold as it drank his magic and began the change. In only a few minutes it began to tremble, before twirling like a tornado and pulling in on itself, shrinking down to a small seed. The fae prince scooped it up and examined it closely, before turning and stepping through the trunk of the Hawthorne. The fairy tree rippled as it carried him through the barrier between Realms, allowing him to step out on the edge of the Meadow.

It was early morning in the Forest, and the young faeries were already flitting about, chasing each other about the blooming flowers or bothering the caretakers for breakfast. He spotted Puffy and Foolish on the other side of the field, chatting quietly as they set down platters of fresh fruits and decanters of nectar for the babies to eat. The latter spotted him and gave a wave, and Wilbur gave a short wave back before wading into the knee-high field and searching for a spot of clear ground.

After a moment of search he spied a spot between a pink tulip and a deep violet allium. Kneeling in the dirt, he carefully dug a small hole and dropped in the seed before carefully covering it with the displaced dirt. A careful drop of his magic soaked the mound, and after only a moment a curl of green appeared. It quickly grew, a long stem shooting up to nearly Wilbur's height, a large bud rapidly grew along the top. The fae jumped to his feet eagerly, watching as the green cover peeled back to reveal bright yellow petals. Wilbur watched expectantly as they fell open, revealing a large sunflower, a small shape curled up on the seeded center. With gentle movements, Wilbur scooped the faerie into his hands.

The boy was still a mess of lanky limbs and blonde curls, but his wounds had been healed, and his clothes were now clean (though his shoes were gone - for some reason, they never survived the change). There was a lump of thinly-furred skin against his back, still wet with fresh magic from the cocoon. Gently, Wilbur stretched out one of the wings, taking in the white crescent-moon shapes and the red highlights among the gray fuzz. A moth, then - Techno could probably tell him exactly what kind, but for now Wilbur was satisfied just seeing his new brother's wings grown and intact. Out of curiosity, he shifted the child to rest in the palm of one hand, and with his other stretched out his thumb and pointer finger.

He'd been right - faeries were no larger than the space between.

Grinning, Wilbur pressed the child to his chest and moved to the edge of the meadow, avoiding Puffy's knowing grin. He settled beneath a tree, leaning against the bark, and hummed to the sleeping boy. It would take a few hours for him to wake, and more for his wings to properly dry. Then he'd be ready to learn how to fly, how to use his magic, how to grow and laugh and enjoy life as all children should. He'd know nothing but love now, and would never stumble about in the woods bleeding and stinking of fear again. He'd be cherished, not only by Wilbur and the caretakers, but by all the fae.

Wilbur had found himself a little bit of sunshine, and he was never letting it go.

Wilbur Soot you are a nightmare to write when I'm tired.

I hope you enjoyed! Had this idea for a while, thought it would make a good little one-shot. I do have a few more ideas for this AU, so if you'd be interested in seeing more, please let me know in a comment!

#dreamsmp #dream smp #mcyt #mcyt g/t #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dark #kidnapping #minor injuries #fae AU #fantasy AU #one-shot #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing

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genevawren38 · 4 months

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Stay With Me, Let's Just Breathe

✨Wilbur Soot & Tommyinnit [Crimeboys]

✨4.2k W.C.

✨Wilbur Soot-centric

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & Zombie Apocalypse

✨An exchange with Bogelinga for SBI Holiday Exchange 2023 (by @ringravity)

🎵Just Breathe by Pearl Jam

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angelscherryblossoms · 6 months

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DSMP one-shot kind of based on TCFSV

(slightly based on Tommyinnit's Clinic for Super Villians. it's not that good I was just bored so decided to write this short one-shot)

L'Manburg. A nation that had been through literal hell. So imagine how much more chaotic it would be if the characters had superpowers

Third person pov:

Tommy was walking back to his apartment after a shift at his job of a multi-million dollar company that helps supply food around the world at affordable prices. That's right, he works at McDonald's. Anyway, Tommy was on his way back to his apartment where he would collapse onto his bed and fall into a peaceful slumber. But he's Tommy, of course this wouldn't happen. He found himself hiding behind a car while the top three villains fought against the top three heroes. Tommy watched from behind the car as the battle went on in the middle of the deserted street. Siren fought against Flame, Blade fought against Dream, and Zephryus fought against 404. Siren was simply using his powers to control Flame and make him attack 404, who now had to hold up against Zephyrus and Flame. Blade was dodging any attacks Dream threw at him. Tommy didn't like the heroes, definitely, but he also didn't agree with some of the things the villains did. This was one of them. Like, if you're going to start a fight, do it somewhere more convenient for Tommy, because he's a big man that wants to go home. Tommy just has to wait for this fight to, either, end or be directed to a different area. Apparently the gods have it out for Tommy, because the fight moves closer to him. So close to the point Zephyrus sees him. Tommy just accepts his fate. He's going to die. He's going to die before he gets to drink, or smoke, or get all the woman. But most importantly, he's going to die before he can tell Tubbo and Ranboo how much they mean to him, he's going to die before he can live. But Zephyrus doesn't kill him. Zephyrus hides him, and gives him a chance to run away. So Tommy does, and he runs like hell. He runs until he can't run any further, and that happens to take him to an alleyway, where he collapses and just lays there, looking at the night sky from the dirty concrete floor.

Zephryus/Phil pov:

I was fighting 404 and jumped back to avoid him touching me. As soon as he touchs someone, it's over and his powers put you to sleep. I happen to glance to my side and see a teen boy with curly blonde hair hiding behind a car. He also sees me, but he doesn't seem terrified. He sort of just stares at me and seems to be thinking to himself. I turn my back to him, spreading my wings and looking at 404. I hope the kid understood and ran, because after a few seconds I took off to the sky's, continueing with the fight.

#dsmp imagine #dsmp au #dsmp #tcfsv #tcfsv fanfic #dsmp tcfsv #tommyinnit #philza minecraft #dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #dsmp one-shot #one-shot #lazy story #bad writing

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abeehiltz1159 · 6 months

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Sleepy Bees Halloween one-shot! Happy Halloween y’all :D

#dsmp #ranboo #tubbo #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #witch au #dream smp #sleepy bees #sleepy bois inc #sbi #dsmp au #halloween one-shot #Explosions & Witches (Abeehiltz1159 AU)

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alliumdykes · 1 year

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I have no plan or outline for this oneshot except for 'Tommyinnit commits Tax evasion (and other fun crimes)' and i can't tell if this will be pure crack or crack treated seriously

I can't wait

#dsmp #fanfic #fanfic authors #dsmp fanfic #tommyinnit #im a great author #i have two unfinished one shots but that doesn't matter #look!!! a crack in some capacity fic!!!

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wyrtt-au · 2 years

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first peice of writing!

I have just posted the first peice of writing for the au!!

It’s a oneshot that is tommyinnit centric and talks about when he first started skating and his life before meeting everyone else!

~~~~~

Summary:

Tommy can’t remember details about his childhood, but he can remember every negative comment that was said to him.

He hates that he can remember it, but he can.

Because people are not the kindest when you’re fourteen and capable and in front of the cameras.

His last memory of skating is from a few months before he turned fourteen.

And while Tommy doesn’t remember a lot of his childhood, he’s making new memories with Phil and Techno and Wilbur and his new best friend Tubbo, and he’s going to be okay.

Because Tommy smiles easier now.

He grins and laughs and lets himself live in the moment and he’s genuinely happy.

Now, finally, Tommy is happy.

~~~~~

The oneshot can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41097918

#wyrtt #ice skating au #dsmp #dsmp au #c!tommyinnit #henry the service dog #c!philza #c!techno #c!wilbur #c!tubbo #one-shot

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

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Hello! Since your requests are open for dsmp and you write for c!tommy, this is probably gonna be really REALLY specific. But how about a c!tommy x caretaker/peace maker!gn!reader (platonic!) like, the reader has this small area away from all the bad stuff young on. And takes care of tommy there? They (reader) take care of Tommy and comfort him, like a parent! Or something. and are very motherly! (But please keep them gender neutral!) this is just a fic idea i got.

-😴☕️

Morning like this were probably Tommy's favorite.

He liked the cold. It reminded him of the few years he had spent in the arctic with Phil and Techno. The sight of his breath spilling from his mouth like smoke was something he used to love bothering Phil with. Showing off as he took a drag from his pretend cigarette, puffing his chest out and calling himself The Biggest Man as Phil just rolled his eyes. Of course Techno was there in the background tending to some froze over garden that still somehow managed to produce crops, letting out the occasional amused bruh at the blonde's childish activity.

But that was just a memory now. A fuzzy one at that. Through all the scars and explosions and long journeys in his life, a lot of things got fuzzy along the way. All Tommy could really remember out of those memories was the feeling of being wanted. Of being enjoyed.

Loved even.

The war had fucked him up. And it had fucked him up good. He would be an ignorant fool to ignore that. In fact he had fantasized many times about building a time machine just to go back and cuss that prick Wilbur out something fierce for letting twelve year olds enlist in a war that would still be causing problems to this day.

Of course, he could go find Wil and do that now, but the blue tinted apperation that the former presedent had become might burst into tears if Tommy all but glared in his direction.

"Hey! Tom's! Shits ready! Better come eat it before I steal your portion bud."

Tommy's head perked up at that. All thoughts were thrown into the crackling fire besides him as a mess of lanky limbs and light blonde curls scrambled to get up. The glass window Tommy had just been staring at now stood vacant, window seat underneath it still warm to the touch with body heat.

Speeding to the brightly lit kitchen in the cabin, Tommy slid to a stop on the tile floor. His red socks riddled with patched up holes provided just enough friction so that he landed right next to a grinning figure, whom of which reached up to flick his nose playfully as he stilled.

"Ow! Bitch! Sorry didn't mean that, but you bitch!!!"

A snort followed his words, (Y/n) staring at him with an expression just as sardonic and playful as his. The two burst out into a fit of laughter as soon as they had made eye contact, as they often did, Tommys half wheeze half yell mingling with the equaly as boisterous cackles from next to him.

Tommy would forever thank XD that he had met (Y/n) that one day. He liked the forest goer a lot more than he cared to admit. Quite a lot more than he cared to admit actually.

This was his safe space. This fucking stupid, horribly decorated cabin (ironically he had helped decorate almost all of it) in the middle of the woods was the safest he had felt since his mom had left.

Maybe it was less of the cabin and more of the person who lived in it though.

But Tommy might need a bit more time before he could admit that.

"Okay seriously though, grab your half of the cake before I eat it all. I've been watching this thing bake and rise for nearly half and hour and I'm about ready to swallow the whole thing."

"You will not! Half of that is mine bitch! Not a bitch sorry, incredibly sorry, but I'll be damned before you eat my cake you arse!"

A fake gasp sounded as (Y/n) placed a hand playfully to their chest, eyes widening with faux sadness.

"Tom's! And here I thought you liked me and my cooking."

"I'm a grown man (Y/n). I need to like nothing but women, money, and Big Drink. Available at any New York store today!"

"Big what now."

"Nothing. NOW GIVE ME MY CAKE YOU BASTARD—"

The ensuing chase around the house was messy, and would eventually result with cake smeared around the surrounding walls (later Tomy would groan as he was forced to scrape the food off the wall, resulting in quite a few jabs in the ribs as he was told to shut the hell up.) But it was fun.

It was comforting.

Tommy had a feeling this memory wouldn't grow fuzzy anytime soon.

#dsmp #dsmp x reader #tommy #tommyinnit #tommy x reader #tommyinnit x reader #platonic tommy x reader #x reader #one shot #mcyt #mcyt x reader #fluff #request

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