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seventeenpins · 10 months

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triptych - pt i

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a shitty day, you go to a shitty bar to decompress. you're not in the mood to chat with anyone, but the man who sits at the bar beside you has other ideas. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.

warnings: okay this part is a little suggestive but not really at all filthy (that'll come in part 2), reader comes off as an asshole but really she's just having a bad day, drinking, weed smoking, lil bit of grinding, intoxication with intention to fuck whilst under the influence but they're all into it, reader gets horny cos tommy has a cool lighter ????, no actual sex (yet), innuendo

a/n: thank you for the input both on my recent poll and in response to nb characters in future fic! i'm working on a couple of pieces but decided i'd first start with the poll winner: joel + tommy + reader threesome. there are so many great threesome fics already out there, so thanks for taking the time to read my humble offering to the genre. additional things -- there's no significant age gap. tommy is 25, reader is 29 and joel is 31 (or thereabouts, with that general spacing). sarah (referenced but not seen) is 8. part two is gonna get freaky af, and i'm always happy to hear about what nasty shit people wanna see in fic.

check out part ii

the lighting is low and the music is loud, the bass pulsing through the dive bar. It’s not a nice place, this bar, the floors and counters perpetually sticky in a way that makes you feel unreasonably grimy, but the drinks are cheap and strong.

you’re nursing a jack and coke, your third of the night, and you’re relaxing into the dizzying buzz when you feel the presence of a body scooting into the barstool next to yours.

please don’t try to talk to me, you silently will, just let me have one night of peace, please universe-

“what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

fuck

you don’t try to hold back your eyeroll at the cliche and make a show of knocking back the rest of your drink before responding, making no effort to look at the person next to you.

“until about thirty seconds ago, I was enjoying my drink,” you pause for emphasis, "by myself."

the bartender picks up your empty and you nod at him when he asks if you want another.

much to your annoyance, your rudeness doesn’t seem to dissuade your unwanted neighbor at all. he just chuckles.

“bad day, huh?” he asks, and you nod.

“yeah, me too,” he agrees, and you can feel his eyes on you as you start sipping. you can feel his hesitation before he speaks again, but you can just feel he's gonna blow right past it. "so, you wanna talk about your bad day? he asks.

"nope," you tell him, "you're not my therapist. you're just some... guy who wants to bother a woman who is very clearly trying to drink alone."

he lets out a sigh.

"look," he says, "i am sorry that i'm bothering you, and if you'd like me to leave, i won't say another word. i guess you just looked, like, genuinely lonely, and that shit fuckin sucks."

you soften at his words, and turn to look at him for the first time as he backs off and starts to get up.

"i'm sorry," you say, "i'm being an asshole."

he snorts, and smiles at you, a little abashed. you take him in. he's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and, much to your chagrin, a really beautiful smile. he's a little freckled, and wearing a button-up that's rolled up his admittedly gorgeous and muscled forearms, and it's open and you can see the shape of his chest through his undershirt, and your stomach does a little flip.

"it's okay," you tell him, "stay. tell me all about your shitty day."

you smile, encouraging, and he sits down again.

it's an hour later, or maybe two, and you're not quite sure how many drinks you've had, nor how many he's had, but you're definitely on some side of drunk. you're leaning into the man, who's introduced himself as tommy and smells very nice (kinda musky and a little sweaty but in the nicest way and you wish there was a not-weird way to sniff his goddamn armpits but that's pretty inarguably weird.)

you find out you went to the same high school, but you were a few years ahead of him. probably caught one or two of the years my brother was there, though he told you, and you wondered if you'd ever met him.

when you asked if he had any weed, he grinned, very kindly insists he cover all of your drinks (for being a nuisance earlier in the night, please let me make it up to you, hon-) and leads you by the hand through the back of the building to the alleyway.

as alleyways go, this one is pretty nice. it's dark by now, but colorful graffiti covers the walls and though it's not an 'official' mural, you love it dearly and consider it a favorite.

tommy digs in a jacket pocket and produces a slightly-smushed-but-still-fat joint, and holds it out to you. you put it between your lips, and draw back, looking him up and down.

he pulls out a lighter--an oddly old fashioned sort of style that you really didn't anticipate from him. you'd expect a plastic gas station lighter, or even a naked lady bic instead of something that looked antique and well-maintained.

the casual way he interacted with this object he'd clearly taken such care of was, strangely, a massive fucking turn on.

when he'd first sat down, you were certain he was some sort of frat boy asshole. but after he'd told you about his shitty day (in which he ended up being 'slightly electrocuted' and received an absolute lambasting from his 'asshole of a boss big brother' about 'safety measures or some such') then he'd listened to you tell him about the promotion you were just passed over for. he reassured you when you went back and forth about whether you were justified in being frustrated because maybe you weren't that good, and isn't that as good a reason to drink as any? he was kind and patient, but also flirty and confident. and that stupid fucking lighter. in a split second you create a whole backstory. the lighter was his grandfathers, from the turn of the century. he took care of it his whole life, and then tommy's dad took care of it, and then tommy, and he keeps it polished and filled and the wick in good condition--

this may not be the weirdest thing you've ever been turned on by before. probably. but a lighter, really?

and with all of that together, you realised it didn't matter if your little backstory wasn't even slightly true, cos it was weirdly stylish and unexpected and it looked really nice in his big, lovely, veiny, calloused hands.

you needed to fuck this man.

"what'cha lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, and you feel a blush rise on your cheeks, but you gather your confidence and tip your chin up, pointing the end of the joint directly towards him, and he sparks the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind.

when the joint's lit you take a deep hit and hold it for a moment, eyes closed, before you exhale. you're about to pass the joint to him before you get another idea. you inhale deeply again, and then grab him by the collar and pull him towards you.

tommy melts instantly, drawing towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss. it's deep and hot and you can feel yourself getting wet, and then you feel a little bit dizzy and pull back and exhale the smoke into his mouth. he breathes you in and practically moans.

he's beautiful, moving from being silhouetted by the light of the street lamps to being hit with an iridescent glow that makes him look angelic.

you pass the joint to him. hits it. passes it back-

it's a minute before you say another word, and then before you can say it, he beats you to the punch-- "wanna come back to my place?"

after what was probably only five minutes (but feels like an hour) of waiting, you're in the back of a cab straddling tommy. you're not usually this brazen, but you're a little bit crossfaded, dizzy and loose, savoring the feeling the motion of the car, tommy pressing kisses down your throat, the windows rolled down, your hair whipping between both of you in a way that would usually annoy you but is now just an additional sensation that you could get lost in. you let out a small moan when you feel his hands grip your hips and rock you towards him, and his cock is hard and thick in his jeans. you don't realise the cab has stopped by the time you get to his place, and the driver coughs loudly and the two of you break apart.

tommy nods at the house on the left of the car and you both hop out and head over to it. tommy fumbles with his keys as you make your way to the porch but before he can find the right one, you press him up against the door and kiss him again. he growls, dropping the keychain altogether, running a hand down your back and feeling the curves of your body, grabbing at your ass, running his hand between your legs and feeling the dampness at the crotch of your pants.

"jesus christ, girlie," he huffs, and you're about to kiss him again, when you see the house illuminated around you, tommy's and your shadows black against the door, and suddenly, two loud honks of a car horn.

you jump a foot in the air, and tommy shouts fuck with a not insignificant amount of frustration. the car that's just pulled into the drive goes silent. the lights go off, and then you see a broad figure getting out of the car and slamming the door.

you turn to tommy, wide-eyed. "are we-" and you're not sure how to ask what you wanna ask, "are we about to get murdered?"

tommy chuckles, but he still looks pissed off. "nah, sweetheart. that's just my asshole big brother. who wasn't meant to be at home tonight!" he shouts the last part as his brother comes into view, clearly trying to start something, and it almost makes you laugh at how immediately this otherwise charming man goes into petty sibling mode.

but then the approaching man is illuminated by the porch light, and your jaw drops.

"joel fucking miller?" you ask, and you're pretty sure he'd be saying your name like that, too, if he hadn't temporarily lost the ability to speak.

"are you-?" he asks.

"i'm-?" you say.

tommy looks between you two, brow furrowed. "i take it y'all know each other?" he asks, and joel makes a strangled sound while you snort out a laugh.

"sure do," you smile, and look at tommy. "but any chance we could go inside? my feet are killing me."

they both nod and joel unlocks the door, while tommy scrambles on the ground to find his keys.

when you're seated, you get to the story.

"i had the biggest crush on him in high school. senior year, he asked me to prom and we had a great time." joel smiles a little, eyes crinkling in a way they never did when he was younger and it makes you hungry in a way you can't articulate. god he's been aging well.

"but then joel graduated, and i had a couple more years of high school. we took a break for a while, i'd moved out of town for a year, but we went on a couple dates after i graduated and moved back."

tommy looks between you two, and you're glad he doesn't look jealous or upset or anything, cos even though he would have no right, you've absolutely dealt with men like that plenty before. instead, though, he doesn't look mad or frustrated. you can't for the life of you parse the expression on his face. at all. more than anything, he looks amused.

"so, what happened?" tommy asks.

"he found out he got his ex pregnant." you shrug.

you'd be lying if you said it hadn't wrecked you for a while when it'd happened. you made more than a couple mix tapes with truly tragic heartbreak songs, and you had been sad that the possibility of trying this with joel after years of teenage heartache had been ripped out from under you, but you honestly hadn't thought about it for a while. more than anything, you reckon it speaks to his character that he made sure to stay with the mother of his child and do the right thing raising her.

"her name's sarah, right? and how's your wife?"

joel makes a pained expression, and tommy winces.

"ah. 'fraid she left years ago. sarah was still a baby." there's an awkward silence, but then he smiles a dazzling smile, "and sarah's doin great. she's turnin' nine this year and she's top of her class. never thought a kid o' mine could turn out so fuckin' bright. thought i was gonna fuck her up only havin' me around, and her uncle tommy o' course, but damn that girl makes me real proud."

you smile, and you're genuinely glad for him.

"speaking of-" tommy says, and you can swear joel preemptively rolls his eyes, "you said you weren't gonna be home tonight."

"i said i'd be gone for some of tonight. it's already two in the morning. sarah's over at mom's, but i've got work early. she's gonna take care of her all day, and now i won't have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to get to the site on time."

"ah-" tommy says, "well shit."

you're all silent for another moment, and then as if a switch has flipped you realise how fuckin weird this entire situation is.

"so, uh-" joel says, cos now he's somehow become the leader of the conversation, "i take it i've interrupted, so let me get out of your hair. and. i'm gonna go crash in sarah's bedroom, tommy, so i'll... be. at the otherendofthehallway"

you had never seen joel miller so awkward and flustered and you can't help but giggle a little, and joel narrows his eyes at you, but then he cracks a smile, too, and then the three of you are laughing so hard you have to wipe a tear from your eye.

you fall into a silence again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. you need a moment to yourself, though. among other things, if you could tell your nineteen year old self that you're at the home of joel miller, after making out with his incredibly hot brother, and now you're just sitting around with them, you'd be baffled.

"mind if i grab a glass of water?" you ask, and tommy stands to get you one, but you stop him. "don't worry, i've got it. are the ones on the dish rack alright? do you boys have beer? can i grab anything for you?"

"thanks, sweetheart," tommy calls, "there's a pitcher for water in the fridge, and we'd both take a beer. help yourself to one too, if ya like."

you fill up your glass full of water, pop a bottle opener into your pocket, and grab three bottles of beer by their necks in your spare hand. you place them down on the coffee table and open each bottle but take a big gulp of your water before you start on your beer.

when you look up, tommy and joel are communicating in what you can only assume is a sibling-specific language of small head shakes and narrowed eyes, and then finally a brief, firm, synchronized nod.

they both turn to face you, and there's a bit of a weird energy but you're not not into it.

"what's up?" you ask, and tommy looks at joel, and joel nods, and then tommy looks back at you.

"now-" tommy starts

joel cuts him off before he can say anything of substance-- "and we don't want you to feel pressured, sweetheart, the choice is yours, and if you'd like- either or both of us to fuck off, just say the word, yeah?"

you nod slowly.

"but we have a proposition for you, honey," tommy finishes.

you look between them. they're both standing sitting there, a bit bashful, and it's fuckin endearing. two men that you'd use confidence as a descriptor for each of them. very different siblings, both in looks and in personality, but their eyes are the same and you can see a delicious darkness burning in each.

"how would ya like to fuck us both?" tommy asks, and your heart skips a beat.

they don't need to ask you twice. you do your best to hold back your grin.

"fuck yes".

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy x joel x reader #tlou fic #tommy miller smut #joel miller smut #(well it will be next chapter ahhhh)

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jonathanbiers · 2 years

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i can't stop thinking about lil teenage tommy hagan and steve harrington doing things that are definitely a bit fruity while they're in the figuring yourself out stages of life. so maybe steve grows up not thinking it's weird at all to want to cuddle or even occasionally kiss boys, or hold their hands, or lean his head on their shoulder while they watch movies. that's just typical friend behavior, he's been doing that with tommy since they were kids and it was never weird.

until it wasn't tommy, it was one of steve's other friends, and they definitely thought it was weird when he instinctively went to snuggle up to them on the couch or whatever. they definitely got very obviously uncomfortable, might have even accused him of being gay or said some vile things to him. so, okay, he gets it in his head that it's not normal, maybe even that it's wrong and bad.

so, he stops being physically affectionate with tommy. he pulls his hand away when tommy reaches for it, shrugs off tommy's arm. pretends not to notice the kinda hurt look he gets in return. when he wakes up after they passed out on the couch during whatever movie it was that week, his head resting comfortably on tommy's chest and the familiar thump of his heartbeat right under his ear, he feels guilty because this isn't supposed to be something guys do but he likes it. but that's wrong, that's what his other friend said, it's bad.

so, he pulls away further. doesn't stop being friends with tommy, but he keeps him at an arms length at best. and tommy gets a girlfriend, and steve is relieved... right? he should be relieved. that's normal, they're guys. they get girlfriends. but tommy's been kind of a dick to him lately, and seeing him with his arm over carol's shoulder, or kissing the top of her head, or her kissing his freckle-covered cheeks, it makes something in his stomach twist. he used to do those things. he wants to do those things still. but those aren't things guys are supposed to do. they're wrong.

they go on double dates sometimes and it's fun. it is! steve doesn't think about the fact that tommy and carol are making out in the movie theater, because he's too busy making out with jennifer, or heather, or christy.

things with tommy are getting weird. he's not being mean to steve, just...vaguely rude all the time. until he starts lashing out, and steve's just confused. doesn't say anything, figures it's probably not his fault, just tommy's own shit. him and carol haven't been doing great.

tommy and carol are on a break, have been off and on for the past year or so. steve doesn't know what fight it was this time. he doesn't really care, past the fact that tommy's upset. they're at steve's house, and they're alone, so they're drinking. to get tommy's mind off of it. steve doesn't know how many beers they've had between them but they're sitting at the edge of the pool, their feet in the water and tommy's leaning on him. he's damn near in steve's lap. would be, if he just moved his leg a little bit. steve doesn't think too hard about why he wants him to. doesn't have time to think about it.

because tommy sets his beer down behind him, tosses it more like, it spills all over the concrete. his hand is on steve's cheek, turns his head, and steve doesn't even try to think. he knows this, it's familiar, it's good. steve's kissed a lot of girls, none of them kiss like tommy. not like they mean it. tommy gets his other hand in steve's hair and steve's arms wrap around his waist, this is normal. tommy is in his lap now, and steve missed that. doesn't get to savor it for long, because tommy pushes him down to his back. tommy's spilled beer soaks through the fabric of his shirt, he doesn't care. this is right.

up until it stops. steve lifts his head off the concrete, tries to chase after tommy's lips, but when something drips onto his cheek, he opens his eyes. tommy is crying, is glancing back and forth between steve's eyes like he's looking for something. he doesn't seem to find it, asks, "why?" steve doesn't know what he means.

when they wake up in the morning, tommy in steve's bed and steve on the floor, he wants to ask. he's got one hell of a hangover but he can't stop replaying that kiss in his mind. he waits to see if tommy says anything. he might not even remember, he was drunker than steve. drunk enough to do things he didn't mean to do, didn't want to do, steve thinks. he wants tommy to have wanted it, though, because something clicked for steve last night.

tommy doesn't mention it. doesn't act like anything happened at all. he's not back to his regular self, but he's back to being the bitchy tommy that steve has known for the past few years, so steve assumes he's right. tommy was blacked out, didn't mean for it to happen. he tries to ignore how his heart aches when tommy steps out the door to go home wearing a change of clothes he'd borrowed from steve.

tommy and carol stay together after that. when they hang out, it's always the three of them, sometimes plus whoever steve is dating that week. steve doesn't get his shirt back, but him and tommy aren't talking nearly as much as they used to, and it's not like he even really wants it back. he kind of hopes tommy will just...wear it one day. like some kind of signal or something. he'll show up to their double date wearing steve's shirt under his jacket and give him one of those looks that says more than words can. says more than steve thinks he's capable of saying in words.

he doesn't. nothing happens at all, until nancy wheeler happens. things are different with nancy. steve wouldn't say they feel right, nothing's ever felt right with any of the girls he's dated, it's still nice. but sometimes out of the corner of his eye he thinks he catches this little look, a little spark of jealousy, but when he meets tommy's eyes directly, it's gone. he must be imagining it.

then jonathan byers happens, and steve says some shit he'd never in a million years actually mean. he's not imagining it then, the way tommy reacts to his words. it's nothing steve's never heard tommy say himself. projecting, he later learns is the term for it.

then it's after jonathan byers happens, and tommy has steve backed up against the door of his car, fists in his shirt, their faces close. it's not like the last time, not like any of the other times they've been this close, but steve can't help it. his eyes fall to tommy's lips, wishes he'd just close the distance. it feels kind of like it's their last chance. he knows tommy won't, and he knows he doesn't have the guts to do it himself. even if he did, carol is right there, they're in public. it's game over for them either way.

#spotify has me in an angsty mood again #im sorry if this is very ''grew up with catholic parents internalized shame and comphet'' of me #every goddamn time i try and make a short little angsty post it turns into a whole ass fic outline #im tired of this grandpa #my spotify algorithm: WELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD #sending a strongly worded letter to bay faction and it looks sad. they're the main culprits #stranger things #stommy #steve x tommy #steve harrington #tommy hagan #why is this longer than any steddie post i've ever written

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angsty-twihardxx · 1 year

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Hi🥀,

I was wondering if you can write Tommy has reader sit in front of a mirror and Tommy is behind reader. He decides to finger reader in front of the mirror while having reader being forced to watch themselves by holding reader by the throat. He makes them come a couple of time and the reader squirts to. Also, he praises reader a lot, does nipple play, a lot of neck kisses, and giving reader hickey’s

A/N: This drove me insaaaane, I just had to do it to em, I’ve added this to a lil series with inexperienced reader. It can be read as its own stand alone fic, bit it also works as a sequel to the first, Riding Lessons.

Anyway I hope this tames you horny beasts, plz feel free to send me some more smut ideas/requests for this sexy Texan. No use of y/n. My apologies if this is crap, I’m just built that way ig *shrugs

Warnings: 18+ (minors go play Fortnite or sm) smut obvi, fingering, reader squirts good for her. Idk if this is deserves a warning but reader is very new to sex, but its okay because Tommy is very reassuring. Mentions of body issues, talk of not feeling good enough that kinda jazz. But again don’t worry Tommy makes ya feel good. Ya‘lol are beautiful and ily

P.S: My computer decided to die so we have to do this on mobile so wish me luck x

EYES ON ME | T.MILLER

*his lil smirk*

You thought that maybe you were having a panic attack by how tight your chest felt, your heart was beating way faster than you usually would first thing in the morning. Sitting up you wiped the thin layer of precipitation off your head, which usually only ever happened when you had a nightmare, which you definitely did not have.

Your thighs vibrated at the memory of your dream from before, Tommy’s warm grip that scratched against the soft doughy skin of your hips. His touch on you was hard, the polar opposite to what he had been the entirety of your relationship.

You didn’t realise how much you missed it, his thick fingers digging into you as he rocked your hips along his clothed thigh. Even though it had been nearly a week since the night of your first orgasm, it was all that you could think about. The way that your entire body shook as you were completely overwhelmed with pleasure, you wanted Tommy to make you feel like that again.

After stretching you rolled around to see his beautiful freckled face, but instead you were met with his cold pillow. The frown that began forming on your forehead weakened at the small crinkled piece of paper with his handwriting on it. ‘In town for breakfast, see you there.’

. . .

The morning air was still frosty despite the warm glow from the sun on your face and shoulders. Even though you were wrapped up in thick jackets, including one of Tommy’s very own button downs, you were still freezing. You found Tommy sitting on an old bench in front of large dining hall as he waited for you, his hands sat in his pockets as he turned to see you walking towards him. His moustache tipping upwards, returning your curt wave with a wide smile.

Everything just felt easier with him now, there was no sexual tension that was always weighing heavy on your shoulders every time he was around you. Not that there was any pressure ever with him, it was only ever pressure that you placed. On yourself out of fear.

There was no longer a voice in your head that pressured you into doing anything out of fear of being left for someone more experienced. None of that mattered now because the two of you were happy, you were happy. Even though you hadnt ‘gone all the way’, you still felt comfortable knowing that he would guide you.

His arm moved to wrap around your shoulders as you dropped down in the empty spot beside him, using his arm to pull you into his chest he pressed a soft kiss in your hair. “Here, managed to get one extra for you.” Tommy nudged your shoulder as he handed you the sandwich, still warm wrapped neatly in wax paper. Food came in plentifuls in Jackson, but if you wanted one of Maria’s freshly made sandwiches you’d had to get in early.

“Startin’ to think you might love her more than me.” Tommy chuckled to himself as he watched you devour the food like it was the first meal you’ve eaten in weeks, which was definitely not true. “Well I guess it comes down to your sandwich making abilities.” You quipped back in between bites.

“Looks like I don’t stand a chance.” Tommy pretended to pout before dropping his head into the crook of your neck. His moustache ticked the soft skin of your neck as he peppered you with kisses. “Oh baby, that reminds me, how did you sleep last night?” Tommy teased, knowing fully well how you slept. Only imagining what it was doing to you, when you sent stiff in his arms.

The main reason Tommy was up so early was due to the wet dream you seemed to be having. If neither of you had work today he would’ve done something about it.

Tommy adjusted himself, just the memory of your sleepy voice moaning his name had his blood rushing down to his dick. You were driving him insane, and you didn’t even have a clue. He cooed playfully as he watched your cheeks warm up, you simply nodded in response knowing that if you spoke your words would fail you.

“I sure hope so because I got a little plan for us tonight. How’s that sound baby? You up for another lesson?”

Your body stiffened as you felt his hand grasp tightly onto your thigh, darting your eyes around you checked to see if anyone was watching. Was he really doing this in the middle of town? “It’s alright darlin’ no one’s payin’ attention to us, what’d’ya say?” All you could concentrate on was how his breathe fanned against your ear as his rough hand tightened on your soft skin. All of it made your body crave him more, you couldn’t think of anything better. “I think that sounds perfect Tommy.” His grip on your leg softened, clapping against your denim jeans before standing up with a groan.

“Well in that case, I’ll see you tonight.” He sent a wink your way before turning to walk away, leaving you turned on to the max. He was going to be the death of you.

. . .

Your fingers rapped on top of the hardwood table as your eyes impatiently hovered by your front door, which remained unopened. As the hours ticked by, the more restless you were becoming. The second plate of food beside you had long gone cold, as did the arousal you had been harbouring onto all day.

You had now grown tired, after a long day working in the stables all you wanted to do was cuddle up with Tommy till you fell asleep.

You knew better than to be upset with him, he worked hard in Jackson. He made an effort to earn his keep, whether it was helping with patrols or assisting in construction. It made you happy knowing that he was finding his purpose in his new life, but it just felt at times that you were moved to the back burner.

It definitely didn’t help when you went upstairs to shower, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. To say it was a kick in the guts was an understatement. Even though looks wasn’t a priority in the post-apocalyptic world, you couldn’t help feeling inadequate. Your skin was flushed after standing under the hot water. Your hair was always messy, you wondered what Tommy saw cause it surely couldn’t have been what you were currently looking at. Could it?

It was a dangerous rope you were balancing on, you knew you had better things to be worrying about than your own appearance. You wish you could stop.

That was how you ended up in your bed, wrapped up in blankets with a book in your lap. Reading the small print you tried to keep your mind busy, so you didn’t get yourself again. You were so enthralled by your book that you didn’t even hear your front door open.

Tommy leant against the door frame as he watched you. He noticed the frown forming on your forehead, and the way your bottom lip stuck out. He felt so bad being late home again, Tommy was never good at time management, or maybe it was the fact that he could never so no.

Right when he was finishing up the barn he was constructing, Maria had come by and asked to see if someone could come and fix the light in the projector at the cinema. He knew he should’ve just left it and gone home to you, but he knew the guilt would’ve eaten away at him.

You were alerted of his presence when he cleared his throat, you saw him propped against the doorframe. He sent an apologetic smile your way, his brows tipping upwards when your eyes met. “M’sorry I’m late baby, I got caught up with some work.”

“It’s alright. Dinners in the oven by the way.” You murmured with a tight lipped smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice your teary eyes. “Thanks darlin’ I’ll pack it up for tomorrow. Maria made us some food as a thank you— which reminds me. They got some pretty good movies they salvaged, some space one I reckon you’ll enjoy.” Tommy smiled like a happy child before retreating to the kitchen, which was pretty perfect timing because he missed the way your smile dropped.

‘It’s just Maria, you have nothing to worry about.’ You tried convincing yourself but it was no use. Your eyes already began to water, Maria was nice— you liked Maria.

Like a cruel monologue your mind gave you a list of reasons why she was better than you. To start she was confident, being in charge of an entire commune she was smart and well liked by literally everyone. So it would make sense that Tommy would like her too right?

“Hey everythin’ alright in here?” Tommy startled you as he was suddenly behind you on the bed. You quietly tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Y-yeah I’m alright. M’sorry just tired.”

Tommy tilted his head in a frown, he knew you better than to believe you. “C’mon talk to me darlin’” His hand fell to give your thigh a gentle squeeze, contrasting his grip on you this morning. You would do anything to be in that moment with him again, not like now where his sad eyes watched you intensely.

“I- it’s nothin’ Tommy.” You tried to shrug him off again, but of course it didn’t work. He cocked a sceptical brow your way, you hated how well he knew you.

“It’s so stupid.” You groaned into your palms, so embarrassed of your own stupid brain working against you. “I just- I don’t know what it is you even like about me, I mean let’s be real I’m nothing like half the girls in Jackson and I—“

Tommy’s lips muted the worrying in your mind, his lips danced with yours. You pressed back on his lips, when you kissed him it felt like nothing else mattered to you. Not some teenage insecurities, Tommy was a man not a stupid teenage boy— and even better he was your man.

“Now where’s all this coming from, hm?” He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his soft brown eyes peered up at you like you could tell him everything. You could tell him everything, but that could wait, right now you just wanted him.

“It doesn’t matter, can you just kiss me?”

“That I can do.” He chuckled before bringing his lips back onto yours. You pushed hard with a fever, the fire being ignited inside you again as a moan escaped your lips. His hands grasped your cheeks, pushing you even closer to him if that was even possible. Tommy lifted you to straddle on his lap, as instinct your hips grinder on his crotch. God you wanted him so badly.

“Didn’t you say you had a little lesson planned for me?” You breathed into him between hunger-filled kisses. Tommy looked up at you in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and excitement, never did he see you so confident, he loved it.

The glint of mischief in his eyes returned, he took your clothes off in a fever. Your eyes fell to the ground out of instinct, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You suddenly became hyper aware of how vulnerable you were, Tommy had never seen you completely naked before. He offered to sit in between his lap on the edge of your bed. “Y’know I think you're beautiful right? I mean can you blame me?”

His large hands softly climbed up your side till his fingers danced along your shoulders as he moved the strand of hair that exposed the nape of your neck. You felt like a lightning bolt struck through your core as his lips sucked onto you softly.

You let out a moan as his free hand moved to grasp your entire breast in one hand, he kneaded the soft skin and the familiar feeling of arousal pooled in between your legs. Tommy noticed how your legs clenched when he flicked your now budded nipples. Soft moans mewled from your open mouth as your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Nu-huh baby, I want your eyes on me.” Tommy tapped your cheek, bringing your attention back to the room. You looked at him confused, “But I- I am—“

“‘Not at me, me.” Tommy nodded his head towards the mirror in front of you- “‘Oh.”

“Can I try somethin’ else with you baby?” You felt a shiver down your spine as he whispered into your ear, his eyes met yours in the mirror. “What is it?”

Without answering Tommy pushed your knees to the side, exposing your eager pussy. “D’you trust me baby?”

“‘Yes.” You murmured as you felt your body tremble in nerves but also as much eagerness. There wasn’t anything you wanted more right now than Tommy’s hands on you.

Your skin burned as his rough fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, you followed his fingers in the mirror as he moved painfully slowly to where you needed him the most. Your hips bucked against his touch, showing him exactly where you wanted those fingers.

“So eager darlin’”

“Tommy please.” You whined as your back curving instinctively, rocking your hips against where his dormant fingers laid dangerously close to your exposed cunt.

You let out a surprised gasp, his thick fingers filled you up perfectly. He started off soft, slowly easing in his middle finger as he let you adjust to him. “H-holy shit Tommy.” You breathed as his free hand moved to slowly massage your aching clit. “Yeah? That feel good baby?” He smiled wickedly into your hair as you nodded frantically, pleasure already filling you up as your head dropped back onto his shoulder, but snapping your head up as you remembered his instructions. “Tell me how good it feels darlin’” Tommy’s voice was at least an octave lower, sending more chills down your spine.

“S’really fucken good Tommy.” You gasped as you felt his finger stretching you open, if this was how good it felt to have his fingers in you you could only imagine what his dick would feel like.

Pressure in your stomach began to build as his pace quickened. You felt your orgasm coming quicker then last time, you welcomed it as you rocked your hips involuntary pushing his finger in deeper.

“That’s it baby, y’doing so fucken good.” He brought his mouth down to suck at the soft skin on your neck, while his hand pumped into you relentlessly. “Tommy!” You screamed as you felt your orgasm unravel throughout your entire body, your pussy clenching around his finger as he kept going.

You were a shivering mess, only a mixture of whines and ‘oh my gods’ falling from your already parted mouth.

Your legs still trembled as Tommy soothed you, his hand brushing back the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead. “Good job baby, you did so good for me.” He cooed into your hair, pressing gentle kisses as your chest heaved.

That was when you realised, nothing else mattered. Tommy was the one making you feel this good, no one else. He cemented that as he repeated in your ear how much he loved you, his facial hair tickling your already sensitive skin as he did so. God you really did love this man, huh?

“Y’reckon you could go again for me?”

All you could was nod in response, your mind feeling like it was going a million miles a minute. He didn’t start straight away though, he was patient with you. He waited for your heart to start beating at a normal pace before bringing his fingers back to your aching hole, you watched as he added another finger.

Filthy moans filled the air as you adjusted to his extra finger inside you, you felt like you were being stretched open. Already your hips were shaking, his thick fingers felt like they were hitting your cervix. It was almost hypnotic, watching the way his fingers would disappear in between your folds before pulling back out just as swiftly.

His free hand remained glued to your now swollen clit, as he menacingly taunted it with his rough fingers. Only egging on your climax more and more.

No words fell from your lips anymore, Tommy had basically turned you into a writhing mess as your stomach tightened.

For a very brief moment it felt like you weren’t a world where you had to survive with Cordyceps and people that hunted and killed, it was simply you and Tommy in this room. That was how you wanted it.

The feeling was getting so intense you shut your eyes out of instinct. With your eyes closed you could concentrate on the way your hips rocked with each thrust of his hand, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Eyes up, I want you to watch.” Tommy growled as his free hand moved up to envelope your neck, not hard but enough to bring your head up to catch a glimpse of your position in the mirror. His thick fingers around you shouldn’t make you even more aroused, should it?

“Good girl.” He was going to be the death of you.

“Fuck!” Your eyes squinted shut as you felt the tight knot in your stomach unravelled again, but this time it was so much better. Almost like a gush erupted from you. Your ears rang as your eyes squinted shut, suddenly overly aware of the bright light that overhang your bed.

Your second orgasm in a row felt like a hundred times more intense, it felt like your whole body was vibrating. Like you were going a million miles a minute, or maybe it was the room that was spinning.

“You okay baby? You did so good for me.” His voice was soft as he turned to face you properly now, his eyes checked you over one last time. He looked at you with nothing short of amazement and you wish that he never stopped.

After a few seconds you came back to, your eyes just stuck to the ceiling as your chest heaved while you tried to catch your breath. Then you noticed the warmth pooling on your bedsheets, Tommy noticed your confusion and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“You fucken squirted baby.” He breathed out in amazement.

“Bet you never knew you could do that.” Tommy hummed in amusement as he looked down to where he held you. Your cheeks were rosy as your half-lidded eyes connected with his, a dopey smile grew on his lips.

“If I did I would’ve brought a towel.” You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips, amusement filling the room as the two of you chuckled together. You loved how easy it was for the two of you, even after he stole a second orgasm from you he could make you laugh. It was his Texan charm, according to Tommy but you knew it was just him.

“C’mon darlin’ let’s get you cleaned up.” He pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek before standing up with you in front of him, your legs quivered as you stood up for the first time in what felt like forever. “Tommy? I don’t think I can walk.” You looked up at him with worry, was this normal?

“It’s okay baby, it means I’m doing my job right.”

He thought about what you were saying when he found you crying in your bed, how you didn’t know what he saw in you. There was never just one singular thing, a multitude of reasons that he loved you. And the fact you didn’t see a reason why he would love you dumbfounded him. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew.

#tommy miller #Tommy miller tlou hbo #Tommy miller smut #Tommy miller x reader #Tommy miller x y/n #Tommy miller x you #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic smut #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller x female reader #tommy miller fluff #tommy miller fic #Gabriel Luna #gabriel luna x reader #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou hbo fic

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call-sign-shark · 5 months

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no pressure! I was wondering if you are going to continue the Hey Bunny story. I love your writing and always look forward to your updates. Hope you are well :)

Hey Nonny! I hope you’re doing fine! Thank you so much for your interest in Hey Bunny. This is by far one of my favorite works, and I enjoy writing Yandere!Arthur so yes, I’m going to continue it. Still figuring out if I should make a short series out of this or more like a collection of works but in any case, Hey Bunny is going to have more parts. I’m currently working on it so below you’ll find a snippet of part 3. Nevertheless I’m also trying to focus on my hidden series Tangled Desires so one must need to be patient! Hope you’ll enjoy it, little bunny. 🐇 thank you again for your adorable ask and your support.

TW: dubcon or even noncon, kidnapping, sexual assault, age gap, no proofreading. MDNI!!

A pathetic whimper fell from your lips as Arthur held you down, painfully pinned to his bed right under him “Please Bunny, just stay still.” He started, the gravel in his voice rendered ever raspier by his ragged breath and lustful groans that resounded in your ear. The mix of whisky scents and his cologne had started to make your head spin.

“Arthur stop! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t do it again!” You begged between two sobs, your tears caught in your long soaked lashes like shiny pearls of despair. Since the very beginning of your captivity you had always managed to protect your dignity but you knew it was a matter of time before he decided to bed you. Panic kicked in as he pressed inside of you without the slightest hint of softness, leading you to wiggle under his weight in a vain attempt to pull your hips back. It didn’t work. Displeased by the fact you were fighting back, the gangster’s strong hand grabbed your throat, his thumb then pushing slightly on your artery to feel your erratic pulse against his skin.

If so afraid why were you so wet for him? He thought.

“I don’t want to have to hurt ye, me lil’ Bunny,” Maddening pleasure crashed in his lower belly like a rogue wave as he felt your virgin core stretch around his thick erection. Restrained in your movements, all you could do was hide your face in the crook of his neck, your cheeks burning with shame and your tears rolling on his freckled skin, “I fookin’ need this so please, let me have you ay.” His words were loving, so genuine with love and affection, and spoken with the low rumble of his baritone voice… And yet his thrusts were rough, devoid of care not to say sadistic — Either he wasn’t aware he was hurting your or he didn’t care. “I know it hurts, I know… But you’re going to be a good bunny for me ay. And good bunnies hop on their man’s cock.”

“N-No please, I’m not ready…” You sobbed, nuzzling your face in his neck even more and kissing his flesh to try moving him. Caught in a whirlwind of torments, your shattering mind had reached its breaking point: there will be no Prince Charming nor Hunter for your first time, but a starving wolf ready to eat you whole.

“Keep ‘em legs spread.” Arthur was close, so close to fill you entirely but, all of sudden, someone knocked at the door of his house and snatched him from his trance.

“Arthur! For fuck’ sake! Open that bloody door, Tommy wanna talk to ya.” John roared from outside.

#arthur shelby #peaky blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Yandere!Arthur Shelby #Peaky blinders smut #Hey Bunny #Shark talks

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 2 months

Text

Snip from a lil something in the edit pile

He frowns when he finds Billy Hargrove standing in the doorway with his own frown but no sign of an emergency to be seen. "Where's the fire?" Steve asks around the cookie, swallowing and licking the crumbs that have escaped coating lips.

Billy looks behind him, eyes on the sky looking for smoke. When he finds none, he turns back to Steve confused, "What are you talking about?"

Steve leans against the door frame hands on his hips, "with all of that banging I thought maybe someone was dying, you always knock so dramatically?"

Billy's nose scrunches up, making the freckles on his cheeks stand out a little more. "Oh shut up, let me in."

Steve stretches an arm to the other side of the frame, barring entrance, "so why are you here?" They certainly do not have plans, at least as far as he knows, but Tommy could have made them. He used to make plans for Steve all the time without telling him, folks would just show up, and he would only find out why once Tommy showed up.

Billy raises an eyebrow as a smirk curls over his lips, "you lost the bet, remember? you're mine for a day and I've come to collect."

There's that heat again, flushing through him as Billy easily pushes his arm out of the way and lets himself in. Right, Steve was kind of hoping that had not actually been real, or that Billy would forget. He should have known that would not happen.

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #fanfiction #st fic #wip #figure theres no reason not to share a lil snip. it'll jist get buried under other posts.#just have to lower any expectations thse days as the numbers ever dwindle and have a good time just writing for me instead

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bowiebond · 2 years

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He’s drunk when he says it. He doesn’t always have to be drunk to say stupid shit, but he definitely is this time. He knows because any previous knowledge of personal space is gone, pressed against Steve’s front, or half of it at least, because he’s kind of hanging off him as he tries to speak over the music. He’d probably fall on his ass right now if Steve wasn’t resting against the wall all cool and shit. Like this party wasn’t the best one of the year. Nah. Stevie didn’t care about that shit. He was cool. He didn’t have to get shitfaced to be the star of the party.

Tommy fucking loves how above it all Steve is. Kind of wants Steve above him. Thinks about it most nights when he’s supposed to be thinking about Carol who’s currently grinding up on another guy because they’re on a break and Tommy doesn’t really care because Steve is so warm through his outfit. Looks good in white and red. So good. Would look better without, Tommy thinks. Tommy knows.

“I’d let you fuck me.” He slurs it out, half mumbled, but he knows Stevie heard it. He’s got his hand on his waist, steadying him, and his grip gets tighter when he says it. “Like, as friends, you know?” Cause that makes it less gay, somehow. Tommy’s not like that. He has a girlfriend, has always had a girlfriend, and these are just drunk words he can forget about tomorrow.

“…Yeah?” Steve’s voice is like the expensive coffee he drinks from his fancy little machine at home. Dark and smooth, and Tommy kind of wants to stick his tongue down his throat and taste that Frank Press or whatever.

Steve’s hand slips further around his waist and now there’s no space between them, none at all, and Tommy’s dick has never been harder as Steve’s lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

“How would you want it, Tommy?” Tommy likes how Steve says his name when they’re alone. It’s so different to at school. There’s a formality to it that Tommy can’t escape until they’re hanging in his pool and Steve’s charming speech-like voice softens to something low and near lazy. Tommy likes it a whole damn lot.

Tommy thinks about it a lot. How Steve would fuck him. He shouldn’t think about it as much as he does, but he’s hard and his dick is pressed against Stevie’s hip and he’s not doing anything to stop the little grinds Tommy can’t even think to stop.

“Mm…wanna do it on your bed.”

“My bed?” He hums and Tommy nods.

“Yeah. Like your bed. Smells like you.” Steve laughs in his ear, soft and airy.

“You like the way I smell, Tommy?”

“Mhm. Smell good. Real good.” Even now, surrounded by cheap beer and sweaty teens, Steve smells like cologne, tobacco and hairspray. Tommy loves all those smells. Probably cause they’re Steve smells.

“We can do it on my bed, Tommy.” He says his name like he says ‘baby’, and it makes Tommy weak at the knees, muffling a moan against his shoulder as he drunkenly rutted against his side. Stevie’s hand is in his hair and it feels heavenly, feeling those fingers thread into the short strands at the back of his head. Scraping his nails against his scalp.

“You wanna be fucked, yeah?” Steve curled his hand into a fist and Tommy’s eyes rolled back when he tugged ever so slightly. “How should I take you, hm? Sweetly like a girl? Or should I be rough with you?”

A low moan vibrated through his throat.

“Rough. Hard. Maybe- maybe be a lil nice? ‘M sensitive, y’know?” He mumbled, unable to focus though the hazy warmth burning through his body. Alcohol or arousal, he couldn’t tell. Very likely both.

“Oh, I know.” He tugged again and Tommy whimpered. “I know you pretty well, Tommy.”

“Fuck.” He was practically humping him like a dog now, panting against his shoulder. “Fuck.”

“I think I’ll take you slow.” He whined as Steve spoke. “Work you up, treat you nice. Open you up on my sheets while I kiss every freckle I see…Then I’ll fuck you. Hard, just like you want. Leave you aching and wanting more. You’ll wanna come back for more. Won’t want anyone else. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

He can’t mistake that as his name, not this time, and it’s like molten magma in his stomach, pawing at Steve’s shirt as he gasps and moans, so close he could taste it.

“Steve, Stevie, fuck.”

Steve reared his head back with one strong pull and Tommy looked up at him, lips parted and cheeks flushed red, eyes glossy. Steve stared down at him, seemingly unaffected, and that made it so much better somehow.

“If you ruin my outfit, Tommy, I’ll strip you right here and fuck you.”

Tommy came with a mortifyingly unmanly squeak, spilling into his jeans at the threat as his eyes widened. Steve looked down at his bucking hips, the wet patch on his jeans, and laughed.

“Gross.” He let go of Tommy’s hair, and he fall on his ass, looking up at Steve in a daze. “Go sober up, will you, man? I don’t need you puking on my sheets.” He walked away with that, rounding his staircase and disappearing from the party below. Tommy stared at the space he had occupied and felt humiliation burn through him.

He was sticky, hot and bothered. And Steve went upstairs. Without him.

…He went upstairs.

Where his bedroom was.

With his bed.

His bed with sheets.

Tommy scrambled up to his feet and followed after, not entirely sober but mind weirdly clearer after his embarrassing orgasm.

Fuck what sober Tommy though, tipsy Tommy decided getting his back blown out on Stevie’s flannel sheets was an amazing idea.

#stommy #Steve harrington #Tommy hagan #lemon #ficlet

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chronicas · 28 days

Note

i’m sure you’re sick of hearing about chelsea but it’s on my mind so i’m gonna talk about the boys from it (since chelsea doesn’t rlly have any “lore” of her own to speak of) and just talk about a couple lil fun facts for each of the boys

charlie: name is short for charles, the nickname for his nickname (that only logan ever called him when they were kids) was “lee”, considers smoking gross but would partake if offered, is a film major bc film majors are pretentious assholes, and he actually cares more about leigh than he lets on, but due to the nature of their relationship, he’s reluctant to really be friends with her

logan: ran track in high school because he didn’t have the hand-eye coordination for basketball and he had to put his height to good use somewhere, isn’t the only guy in the friend group to have a car, but due to being a pushover he drives his friends most places, he and charlie have been friends the longest in the friend group, but the second guy to join their little posse, steve, joined bc logan befriended him cuz they went to the same church, logan also plays guitar

steve: picked up his smoking habit from his mother, got his suicidal tendencies from his father, but only really shows anger towards his biological dad and expresses it by making fun of his bio dad for being gay, says he likes hunting and is actually pretty decent with a gun, but he feels uncomfortable taking the lives of any animals, would probably be the best swimmer out of all the guys due to being on a swimming team when he was younger, but his need for glasses and refusal to get contacts led him to slowly stop swimming professionally and now he’s just kinda average, can also play guitar like logan, and some keyboard

Thomas: has a twin sister named Perdita, when they were young he gave her the nickname “Perry” and she gave him the nickname “Tommy”, may be kind of quiet but often does more of the hard drugs and is really capable of holding his alcohol, both he and his sister have freckles, partially because they lived in florida when they were small and got a lot of sun there, moved around a lot for the first couple of years of his life before they finally settled in [INSERT STATE THE MOVIE TAKES PLACE IN I RLLY DON’T KNOW EXCEPT IT’S SOMEWHERE ON THE EAST COAST] when he was just entering middle school, so his sister was his best and at times only friend for many years

isaac: last to join the friend group and therefore is most worried about losing it, bonded with steve due to also having separated parents, is the embodiment of “the saddest people smile the brightest” because he’s the comic relief friend and is also the only one in the group diagnosed with depression (that he doesn’t tell the others about) would love to make a short film with his friends one day, but every time he pitches an idea to mr. film major charlie he gets ignored or rejected, knows how to play bass guitar

das it das all i got

I ALWAYS LOVE HEARING ABOUT THESE JACKASSES!!!!! Shakes them around like a dog toy.

#asks #ophidian lore #mutuals #c:tgitw

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trenchcoatsbi · 4 months

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heyyyyyy bigman !! er , if it's alright , mind if i get a lil doodle for a qsmp ! tommy ?

i was a dragon hybrid ( so were the rest of the eggs ) , with red wings and a tail that had like a pale orange underside ? also had red horns that were closer to being on my forehead , and the left one had a crack on it .

i had short curly-ish blonde hair with a brown streak through it , nd also very very bright blue eyes . had tan skin that had a lot of freckles on it , also had a few small scars across the face .

i usually wore a red hoodie that was stained with grass , and khaki shorts . also white socks that were always bunched up for some reason , and red sneakers .

uhm , if you could , do you think you could draw me with wilbur ? if not , that's perfectly fine , it's just missing dad hours ™️ for me right now . he looked pretty much like his minecraft skin , though with longer hair and yellow eyes .

thank you very very very very much mate !!

~ 🧸🥚

Howdy! I uh yeah idk i just had fun working on this one! You look pretty cool and raghgh I love excuses to use my freckle brushes and also just any of my textured brushes n stuff pretty much… anyway idk why i decided drawing grass for like twenty minutes was fun but i am silly like that

Anyway uh drawing uhhh… Something, something… Love can be singing somethin random at someone and them repeating it back to you :] -phil

#phil posts #art request #🧸🥚 anon #qsmp kin #tommy kin #qsmp!tommy kin #q!tommy kin

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grabmyboner · 2 years

Text

All this tommy h spam is making me want to finish my tommy ft harringrove wip. here’s a lil peeeeeky peek

Angry Jock gets Pounded by Preppy Twink (Boy with Freckles Watches from the Distance)

Tommy has his biology exam in exactly 13 hours and 27 minutes. He needs to sleep. He needs to be well-rested, to get a good mark on this exam that is going to count for 30 percent of his final grade.

This means he can’t go to the party at the Alpha Sigma Phi. The biggest party of the semester.

He needs to sleep.

But he can’t.

He’s been trying for 53 minutes.

And he knows why.

He’s had this incessant hard-on for over a week. Carol broke up with him—for the third time this term—so, he hasn’t had sex since their post-break-up sex. A week ago. He knows she’ll come knocking on his door in a few days. She always does.

But no matter how many times he jacks off under the covers in his dorm while Steve is asleep a few feet away from him, he can’t get this aching frustration curling in his gut to fuck off.

What makes it worse is he’s kind of pissed off at Steve. Steve promised he would stay in with Tommy tonight, to help him study for the exam. But Billy fucking Hargrove came knocking at their dorm door, asking why they aren’t heading to the party.

And like, yeah, Billy is hot. Tommy has eyes. He knows how attractive the douchebag is. He may or may not have had some particular thoughts about getting the Californian to shut up using his cock—But Steve is his best friend. They’ve been best friends forever. And he just ditched him for some guy he hasn’t even known a whole year.

#tommy hagan #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #stranger things #my fic #mine

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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just what i needed | stranger things ; t.hagan

A/N ; This uh.. it may or may not have been a true labor of love for me -as is the one I have going for Billy, tbh. I started this telling myself that I probably wouldn't ever do anything with it and then an insane lack of reader fics for this goofy freckled bastard -and a burning desire to at very least fix friendships and meddle around with what could've been (in the case of tommy and billy and friendship) and yeah.. Here we are. I go into this fully aware that literally nobody asked for this and most likely, this will not be one of the series that a lot of people read, but.. I can't just not post it. I can't.

So, if you've been looking for a short lil Tommy x reader thing, here we are, babes.Sorry it's a reader insert, this just worked for me, idk.

Pairing ; Tommy Hagan x Good girl!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; this one is set around the point in season 2 when Tommy and Steve have their falling out. It's written under the pretense that Carol dumps Tommy for whatever reason and there will be so much billy and tommy friendship fuckery (Despite me own personal belief that Tommy loved both Steve and Billy but also wanting to like.. let other tommy fans insert themselves into the picture anyway..) There will be no upside down + it's unholy terrors here. Just the same as allll the others, this is a teen rom com / slice of life thing so there won't be anything but the normal here.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars is the only person on my stranger things tag list. I throw a tag out to @rampagewriting -bae, if this is not your cup of tea, you can totally skip this, it's fiiine. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including fandom piece in question is for, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; Tommy coming to a lot of huge realizations. Underage drinking (and yes, a short drive bc this is the 80's) and a no parents house party situation. Lots of sexual tension, mentions of fuck marry kill being played, a very very drunk reader and a slightly less cocky version of Tommy bc he's going through a lot here and he's getting his head around it. Huuuge potential that Billy and Tommy are more than a little OOC here. I've been dying to write them but i miiight not be the best at it.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters and I'm not accepting wrestling / wrestlers in my ask box. Any other fandom/character but wrestling that I happen to write for is fine and I beg of you -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

“I think we need a break, Tommy.”

– when she said it, the first thing he thought was that she was just bored. She wanted to fool around with other guys and she’d come crawling back. That had been almost a month ago.

And so far?

Carol Perkins hadn’t looked back a single time.

Tommy just wasn’t sure what exactly to do with himself. With Steve preoccupied with the situation with himself, Nance and Byers, Steve wasn’t in the right frame of mind to give him any real advice and they weren't talking anyway because they'd gotten into it for those exact reasons. Billy Hargrove turned out to be the one to notice his internal struggle.

Billy had taken him aside.

“Be dressed and ready at 8. You’re goin to Tina’s party with me tonight.”

Billy’s tone indicated clearly that he wasn’t fucking around.

So with the firm order, Tommy threw together a last ditch effort Halloween costume. A red bandana rolled and tied around his forehead. A sleeveless white tank top and some old oil-stained jeans he had lying around that had clearly seen better days. To give the outfit a little more realism, he even offered himself up to mow the lawn for his old man.

Around 7:45, he found himself standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, the plastic Bowie knife strapped to his bicep. He laughed at how ridiculous it was, the idea that a stupid Halloween party was somehow going to fix the place his head was at lately. He knew it wouldn't, obviously. The problem was that this time, he just didn't know what the fuck to do to even begin fixing at least some of the problem.

He almost called Billy to call the whole thing off but right around the time he picked up the phone downstairs in the hall to do it, the loud rumble of the Camaro driven by Billy Hargrove came roaring up the street, an abrupt halt at the curb in front of the Hagan house.

Billy laid on the horn, half out the window, yelling out to him. “Get your ass in, Hagan. C’mon, we got shit to do.”

Tommy made his way down to the Camaro and got in on the passenger side. The drive was quiet at first. But Billy shattered the silence. “Remember my talk with Harrington? I’m gonna tell you the same thing so just fuckin listen, alright? Carol’s not worth it, man. Look, she was screwing around on you over the summer. You know it, I know it because you told me a thousand times. You weren’t really that happy either and she kinda treated you like shit, Hagan.”

“Yeah,yeah.” -but it’s hard to let go of an old habit and essentially, that was the perfect description of his relationship with Carol Perkins since as far back as 7th grade. The more he thought about it lately, the harder it was to remember why he’d even liked her in the first place.

She was blunt, rude, definitely spoiled. And while he always took up for her, she never seemed willing to do the same for him. They spent nearly all their time arguing -that is when they weren’t fucking at his house or hers or in his backseat.

Steve might have been onto something when he broke away from their usual girls.

Granted, he’d picked the worst one possible to experiment breaking away with, but the fact remained… Steve did seem more at ease now that he wasn’t just amassing himself a body count.

“There are other girls out there, man. There’s other fish in the sea.” Billy said it with a shrug as he exhaled smoke and took the last drag of his cigarette. “Tonight, you’re gonna see that. You’re gonna see I’m right.”

Tommy laughed. “Doubtful, but whatever.”

Billy rolled his eyes. For whatever reason, Tommy felt the need to elaborate. “Girls don’t date the sidekick, Hargrove. They date, well… You or Steve. Not me.” Tommy said it with absolutely none of the bitterness or the jealousy this fact made him feel, just flat. As if it were something he’d come to accept.

“I’m gonna smash your fuckin head against a wall, idiot.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Look. You’re not just the fuckin sidekick. You’re probably one of few actual friends I’ve got here. This is for your own good, man.” Billy’s Camaro pulls to a stop behind a red Mustang fastback that Tommy’s seen around the Hawkins High parking lot a time or two but never really bothered to pay attention to. When he caught sight of the license plate, he snickered to himself and nudged Billy, nodding to it. “TOOFAST, huh?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Please. It’s Ford. The only thing it’s too much of is a pain in the ass when it breaks down on the side of the road. Ya know,” he rubs his chin and chuckles, “The driver’s this real cute little thing. Shy as hell, man. Her brother gave her the car.”

Billy could have told him that the driver in question was the same girl that had him stopping midsentence when he popped into the class BIlly just happened to have with her, but Billy wasn't about to do that, oh no. Where was the fun in doing that?

Tommy’s brow quirked. “A girl drives that.”

“Mhm. Like a little old lady out for Sunday brunch, but she drives it.” Billy laughs from the front step of Tina’s house as he looks back at Tommy who is still admiring the car. Tommy shrugs. “Not bad.. For a Ford, I mean. It’s red.”

Inside the crowded house party, you dangled your keys in your hands while nursing a heavily spiked cup of punch and somehow, wishing it was stronger. Parties were not your thing. People -especially the viper pit known as the cool kids at Hawkins High, were even less your thing. You only tolerated Hargrove because he wasn’t fake like the rest of the ‘cool kids’. And he knew your older brother, so you kind of had to tolerate him at this point. And maybe at some point, tolerance turned to an odd sort of friendship, and that odd friendship was the reason you were even here tonight. Sneaking out to a party which was not something you'd normally do. Neither was drinking but.. It was taking the edge off.

It was Billy’s idea to talk you into coming out to this alcohol fuelled open grope fest.

But you were annoyed. It was too loud. Too cramped. Just too much.

And Billy, the asshole responsible for talking you into sneaking out tonight, well.. He was running late as usual.

“Five more minutes. If he’s not here in five more minutes, I’m out.” you say it to yourself as you slam back the contents of the red plastic cup in your hand. You make your way into the kitchen. There are a few people in there but not as many as the living room or out back where the keg is set up, waiting to be tapped.

Madonna gives way to Ballroom Blitz and you bounce around on your feet a little, grinning.

At least this isn’t more of that shitty pop music Tina and Carol have been playing on a heavy rotation all night. At least it’s… something.

You’re swaying your hips to the music as you dance around the kitchen, opening cabinets and just being nosey overall. When your eyes light on the bottle of vodka, you raise a hand and giggle. “This oughta numb the stupidity my eyes are beholden right now.” you muse as you scramble up onto the counter and grab for the bottle.

You’ve just uncapped it and taken a huge sip when your best friend Layla wanders in and gapes. Not only are you at Tina’s stupid party, you’re drinking vodka straight from the bottle. She nods to the bottle in your hand. “Pace yourself, lightweight.”

“Oh my god, fuck off, Lay.” you laugh a little. Your eyes flit around, taking in the drunken mass of teenagers at varying stages of drink or fuck. All that’s missing is a brawl. And you laugh as soon as that thought comes because with Billy supposedly coming out tonight, that’s a very real possibility.

“Is he here?”

“Who?” you answer, taking another sip. The burn of the vodka is starting to lessen. It’s starting to go down a lot smoother now.

This probably should’ve been your warning to stop but sadly, it won’t be.

“Billy! You’re the one who’s friends with him, God knows how that one got started..” Layla has that dreamy look. The one she always gets right before she does something so stupid it’s almost incomprehensible. It usually ends with her, crying in her room -or yours, while she talks about boys being dogs and insisting they don’t want anything but sex.

“Hey!” you pout and you find yourself glancing around. Billy isn’t here. But to be fair, Billy isn’t exactly the person you’re looking for right now, either. No, the guy you’re looking for is Tommy Hagan and the fact that you can’t seem to stop yourself from searching for him in a crowd frustrates you to no end.

Layla’s still going on and on about how neat it must be to be partially in-crowd when you zone back into the present and out of your daze. You laugh hysterically because it’s just not true.

They’re royalty -supposedly, and you’re just.. Not.

You’re the quiet one. The awkward one. The girl who doesn’t really do well with others. People always assume you’re a sweetheart -and you are, but.. This comes with the nifty little annoyance that they also feel like they can just plow right over anything you say or any boundaries you set. And if it weren’t so damned hard to just speak up, to just let yourself get good and angry like you want to sometimes, if you had the spine to stand up for yourself, they’d find out real quick that you’re not the girl to mess with.

“Oh my god, did you see who Carol is here with?” Layla finally changes the subject. At the mention of Carol Perkins, you roll your eyes. “Nope.” the p lingers as you say it. Calmly raising the bottle of vodka to your lips to take another long pull. “Don’t really care, either.”

“Ben! She’s here with Ben.”

“So?” you shrug. It did sting a little, knowing the queen bitch of Hawkins High was at Tina’s Halloween party with your latest ex, the one who dumped you because you were “too boring.” Which was bullshit, it was guy code for “won’t just crawl into my backseat willingly.”.

But then the stray thought crept in. Tit for tat.

You are real quick to shove this out. As if Tommy Hagan, with beautiful eyes and goofy smile -and admittedly, not a working brain cell in his head, bless his heart, and those goddamn freckles and that fucking dry sense of humor.. As if Tommy Hagan would ever look twice at you.

“So? You’re not upset?”

“She can fuckin have him, honestly.” you shrug and laugh as you take another sip, “And he can take a flying fuck on a rolling donut.” your words slur just a little and at the two times you say fuck in the same sentence, Layla glances from you to the bottle in your hand and she just laughs.

“Hey… Let’s get Isla and Dot… Maybe we can play a little Kill,Fuck,Marry or somethin.. Maybe make this bullshit party at least a little fun for us, the peasants.”

You shrug.

On cue, Isla rushes in and she’s all laughter and trying to grab you both to kiss your cheeks. She absolutely reeks of alcohol and she’s probably a good two of three sheets to the wind. Dot wanders in behind her, a cup of punch raised to her lips.

“Did you see who your ex is here with? He downgraded, girl. He downgraded so bad.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head no while shrugging. “Layla already told me and honestly, I don’t fucking care. Ben can go fuck himself.”

Dot blinks. Then she sees the bottle in your hand and she giggles. “Oh.” she laughs out. “Oh… so you’re actually letting the sassy side out to play tonight, hm? This can be fun.”

“Or it’ll be a complete fucking disaster, either way. I’m here. So.. are we playin or not?” you hop up to sit on the counter. There’s a radio sitting beside you and mostly to combat the pop bullshit in the living room, you turn it on and flip through the stations until you find your preferred one.

After a little tuning -and a giggly smack to the back of the radio, Steveie Nicks just barely picks up and you hum along with Dreams as you work the heeled boot off of one of your feet with the other. It’s just now that Isla seems to notice your lack of a costume.

“This is a costume party. I thought you were the living embodiment of spooky, bitch?”

You shrug. And with a roll of your eyes, you brandish the stupid cat headband you’d picked up last minute at the general store in town. “I wasn’t planning on coming here but somebody insisted.” you drawl out, laughing. “And then, naturally, the asshole is late.”

Isla and Dot share a look and Layla fills them in. “Billy.”

Their eyes light up and you roll your eyes. “Oh no. Nope. Absolutely fuckin not, alright? Look. he’s my friend and all but I can tell you with absolute certainty that he is… Not lookin.”

They all pout in unison. Layla slips up onto the kitchen island to sit and Isla hops up onto the counter next to you. Dot grabs a dining chair and drags it over, turning it so the back of the chair is pushing up her tits because of course she is, she’s also wearing a low cut pirate dress.

“Okay, when we left off last weekend in Kasey’s treehouse, it was your turn.” Layla smirks at you as she makes grabby hands at the bottle of vodka. You take a few sips and grimace. The burn is dull, but every other sip or two it sneaks back around to surprise you. You can feel it working, you’re lightheaded. Lightheaded and you can’t stop laughing.

Or saying wildly inappropriate things, as you’re just about to find out.

“Okay,” Layla is glancing at you with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “Kill, Fuck Marry… Steve Harrington, Ben or…” she glances around and rubs her chin thoughtfully as her eyes settle on someone just outside the room. “Tommy Hagan.”

You scowl and flip her off, laughing.

“Oh god.. Ben’s dead. And I’m reversing the damn car to make sure he doesn’t come back. Steve is.. Out entirely because honestly, he’s so…” you rub the bridge of your nose as you try to think of a word to fit the way you feel, your eyes brightening when you come up with the perfect one, “over-rated. Yeah.. yeah, that’s the word I’m lookin for.”

“You can’t–” Isla and Dot are about to argue that you can’t place one person into two categories but Layla shushes them. You don’t notice it, you’re swinging your bare legs against the cabinet below the counter you sit atop as you stare at the red polish on your toes, but Layla nods to Tommy, who just happens to be standing right outside the kitchen with an almost comical look of shock and awe on his face, at least a little invested with this little game of hypotheticals.

After all, how can he not be? His name was mentioned.

He’s hanging around because his name is the only one left. And the realization that this means for once, he’s been chosen.. Noticed.

And the fact that it’s you, well..

The poor guy is struggling heavily inside himself right now. But he’s listening because he just needs to hear you say it. There has to be a reason.

“We’re waiting.” Layla clears her throat.

You shotgun a generous sip from the bottle in your hand and pass it to Isla when she nudges you and nods to it. You burp and then you laugh, a snort coming that makes your three friends double over.

“Wait, whoa.. Let me get this right.. You can pick between Steve Harrington and Tommy Hagan and you’re picking.. Him..” Isla wrinkles her nose as it sinks in. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” she hands the bottle back to you. Dot reaches for it and you lean out and nearly faceplant the damned kitchen floor in the process and you would have if Isla hadn’t grabbed you by the arm to pull you back. You’re laughing as you lean your head back against the cabinet behind you. “Y-you asked for it.”

“Well?” Layla taps her wrist and she’s barely hiding a smirk. Tommy is frozen in the doorway, watching you like a hawk. Like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you before and he’s absolutely fucking… smitten. And Layla knows he’s standing there, she could easily tell you he’s standing there but honestly, she’s figured out a long time ago that you might or might not have just the teeniest crush on the guy. And she knows you’ll never say it without a little push. And a lot of liquid courage.

“Ugh, fiiine.” you raise the bottle to your lips. When the radio at your side starts playing Careless Whisper, you glare at it and flip it off. “Ew, fuck.” you grumble.

You’re stalling, of course.

“First of all,” you speak up after things have settled down a little. “Carol Perkins was fuckin lucky to have him, okay? Lucky. All the shit he put up with outta her and he protected her and stood up for her? Marriage material, bitches. Like seriously, just ugh…. Watching him stand up to somebody for her used to get me so damn hot. He deserves better, y’know. I mean, shiiiit.. Anybody is better than Carol no tits to speak of Perkins…” you turn the cat ears over in your hand thoughtfully. Then after a second or two, you slip it onto your head. Crooked, but of course it is.

You’re laughing again, that same dreamlike look on your own face that you were taunting Layla for when it came to Billy Hargrove earlier. You sigh. “As far as the fuck verdict. Listen, if I’m going to..” you’re hiccupping and as you do it, you frown at yourself and a hand raises to your lips as if to stop the soft sounds. You’re not a drinker, not by any stretch.

Outside the kitchen, Billy’s noticed Tommy lingering. Watching you. He smirks to himself. He’d known it the second he got to know you somehow. Tommy Hagan would absolutely eat up the whole cute and quiet little thing you normally have going on. And when he got to really know you and realized that you have this sass, this fire that you keep hidden… Oh god.

It was the whole reason he dragged Tommy out to this party. Well, that and the fact that Tommy had to come into the class you have with Billy earlier in the afternoon before he asked you to come and when Tommy walked in, Billy couldn’t help but notice the goofy little smile. Or the way you were flushed and flustered to a point where you dropped your pen at least three damn times while staring and trying to make it seem as if you weren’t.

Oh and, he’d also noticed Tommy doing his own fair bit of sharing when you weren’t looking, when you had your nose buried in the magazine you’d stashed inside your textbook while you pretended to pay attention.

This needed to happen.

So when he hears the topic being discussed, he can’t help but chuckle and nudge Tommy. “I’m gonna go make my rounds, Hagan. Kegstands later, right?”

Tommy nods.

Fixes his focus back on you. Waiting. His heart is beating so loud he can feel and hear it in his ears.

And inside the kitchen, you speak up, digging the hole for yourself even deeper when you do it.

“Have you seen his hands? Y’know what they say about a boy with big hands or big feet…” you’re especially giggly at the thought, your skin burning hot all over, but you’re only going to keep talking. Keep digging yourself down deeper into a hole you don’t even realize you’re digging yourself currently. “All I’m saying is if I’m actually going to give up my virginity, I wanna be with somebody who knows what the fuck he’s doing. I just.. Look, you three can stop fuckin lookin at me like that, “ you pout, your voice a soft and lazy drawl because the combination of the alcohol coursing your system at the moment and just the… Thought.. Of the things you’d let Tommy Hagan do to you that you’ve kept hidden all this time, well.

You’re in a daze.

“I’m not like you, damn it. I can’t just hop in a backseat and just get it over with. I kinda..” you’re fidgeting with the sleeve of the flannel shirt you were wearing over the thin little dress you’d thrown on to wear for the night, “I want it to mean something and like.. I’ve liked him forever now, oh my god. The short answer here is Tommy fucking Hagan can absolutely wreck me, alright? Just.. yes.. Yes..”

“Wait..” Isla gazes at you. “Was he?” she trails off, shaking her head. A little stunned because for some strange reason, she’d had the feeling it was somebody else entirely.

Dot laughs and asks quietly, “So the guy you wrote all that stuff about for creative writing. The little shorts and the poems that had the goddamn teacher so flushed she couldn’t even read it out loud like she said she planned on doing to all of us last year…” Dot swings her feet and reaches out for the bottle as The Chain comes on the radio and you start to sing along, sighing as you shrug. “Yeah. They were about him, alright? Don’t start your shit with me, damn it. I know it’s stupid and I know I’m a sap. I don’t care.” you take the bottle back from Dot, leaning out too far again and laughing about it through a wild mess of hair as it swings down in front of you, your palms flat against the countertop to catch yourself.

When you sit back up and at least make an attempt to do something with your hair and the headband, you’re still hiccupping, laughing and your hand raises to your mouth.

“She’s soooo fucking drunk right now.” Layla laughs when she says it, giving you a little grimace.

“Girl? Are you gonna be okay?” Dot asks, snickering quietly.

“Oh sweetie.” Isla winces as she thinks about the headache you’re going to have in the morning and slips an arm around your shoulders to pull you into her side, “Your hair is gonna hurt. That’s how bad your hangover is gonna be.”

Your eyes widen, you’re starting to realize that you are well beyond the level of tipsy you set out for and you are now blitzed. Blitzed as in you’re suddenly not entirely sure if you’re walking out of the party later or you’ll wind up finding some way to con your older brother’s best friend Billy to carry you.

Layla clears her throat. “I’m going for a smoke.”

“Me too.” Dot and Isla chorus. You almost say you’ll go too because shit, why not… you’re trying out the drinking and the stupid cliche house party, the sneaking out of your house bullshit that nearly got your ass broken when you underestimated exactly how much weight the trellis by your window could hold safely.

You almost go bopping right outside with your three best friends, but.. You’re not about to try to get off the counter and fall straight down to the floor and kiss the tiles.

“The floor is lava?” you question, palming your face and leaning your head back against the cabinet behind it as Layla, Dot and Isla leave the room. When the local pop station starts to dominate the airwaves and your chosen channel is nothing but a faint ghost in the background, you scowl at the radio and reach out, snatching the cord from the plug in.

Billy makes his way in. His brow raised at you. “Are you drunk right now, pint size?” he’s barely hiding laughter in the teasing accusatory tone he takes. You’re laughing to yourself and you hold a finger up to your lips. “Shhhhhhhhh!” you look around as if any second, somebody will pop out and you’ll be in trouble for drinking.

Billy plugs the radio back in but you glare at him. You shake your head. “Too loud.”

He chuckles to himself. “Why are you sitting on the counter when there are chairs, hm?”

“The floor is lava. It’s lava, Billy.”

“The floor is lava.” Billy’s trying not to howl in laughter and in effort to hold back, he’s nearly shaking.

Sweet Caroline comes on the radio and if Billy only suspected you were totally off the tits drunk before, he gets his biggest confirmation when instead of ba ba ba you find it hilarious to yell out fuck fuck fuck.

Loud. Louder than he’s ever heard you be before. And this includes all the times he was present at your place when you’ve chased your older brother down while yelling at him about eating your ice cream or leaving the toilet seat up or using your fancy conditioner because he likes the way it makes his hair soft. Billy wasn’t entirely sure you possessed the vocal range you’ve just demonstrated until now, truth be told. And that thought has him laughing. Grinning in amusement.

Tommy is going to eat this shit right up. Guy has a bit of a protector kind of bend to him and Billy knows with no doubt that he has to go through with his plan now.

“Jesus christ.” he rubs his forehead. Then he catches sight of the bottle of vodka sitting at your side and he yanks it away. “Give me that shit! No wonder you’re fuckin drunk. How in the hell did you find vodka?”

You reach up and tap the cabinet door while snickering. “Climbed my ass up and got it, duh.” you stick out your tongue.

“I can’t right now, I fucking can’t. I’m gonna.. Let me go find you a babysitter, alright?” Billy gazes at you in concern. You’re one of the few people aside from Tommy he actually considers a friend and given that your older brother is one of the few best friends he has in this pissant little town he’s been plopped into, he feels like it’s kind of his duty to look after you.

It’s a task he’s about to relegate to Hagan’s quietly lurking ass. Because you’ve just gift wrapped yourself with a shiny red bow and suddenly, Billy Hargrove knows exactly how he’ll go about casually nudging you and Tommy Hagan together.

“Hagan! Yo! Tommy! C’mere, man!” Billy’s whistle draws Tommy out of hiding where he’d been sitting in the hallway just replaying your confession over and over again because his brain wouldn’t let him let go of it.

Tommy can’t help but laugh when he sees you, swinging bare feet off the edge of the counter and the cat ears perched on your head are crooked, sagging as if at any second they’ll just fall right off.

“Yeah?” he finally manages to say something but he can’t stop staring at you and he hasn’t yet.

“Pint size says the floor is lava and she won’t get down, buddy.” Billy nods to your perch on the counter. Tommy drags a hand over his hair. When you hiccup a few times and you start giggling, Tommy feels a smile start to creep to his lips. It’s something he hasn’t really done a lot lately.

“The floor is lava, huh?” Tommy eyes you in concern. Swallowing hard when you’re staring right back at him. Everything you said about him comes rushing back and he tries to pull himself together. But he knows beyond all doubt that tonight only ends one way. He’s determined to get closer to you. Actually get to know you.

Because somehow, he knows that he’s fucked. If he tries to ignore what he knows it’s just going to keep popping up. And hearing you say everything you did earlier, everything he’s always wanted to hear, it’s just… He can’t just let you -or whatever this could turn into, slip through his fingers.

For as mouthy and vocal as you were when it was just you and the girls a few minutes before, you’ve clammed up again. It always happens around him and you feel like maybe it comes out as you being indifferent to him when the truth is, the way he makes you feel overwhelms you most of the time.

You manage a nod though, and Billy clears his throat. “ You’ve got this, right, Hagan?”

Tommy laughs quietly. “Yeah.”

“Awesome. I told some of the guys I’d go pick up some more alcohol. While I”m out I’ll find that one’s brother and let ‘im know he's gotta pick up his car.. Got it?” Billy is firm when he says it but Tommy agrees with no hesitation and then Billy is gone in the blink of an eye and this leaves you in the kitchen of Tina’s parents house all alone with Tommy.

“C’mere.” Tommy steps closer. Your heart does that stupid lazy little flip. The one you always get annoyed with yourself over when it happens. Your filter is gone right now though, so when he beckons you closer, you lean in. Against him a little because you don’t trust your sense of balance and the room is spinning all around you.

“You’re not a drinker, huh?” Tommy questions.

You shake your head. Laughter bubbling out. You’re not sure what to do with your hands and he’s so fucking close to you that for some odd reason, the idea that comes first is to grab hold of the front of the dingy white tank top he’s wearing and just kind of melt against him. “Too much potato juice.” your voice is muffled and soft and Tommy barely manages to make out what you’ve said but then he spots the half empty bottle of vodka you’ve been slamming most of the night that Billy put out of your reach on the space between the top cabinets and the ceiling and he grimaces.

“Ouch. Yeah, that’ll hurt in the morning, princess.” Tommy’s staring again. First your eyes but then his gaze shifts down. Settles on your lips. They look so fucking soft. And you smell like apples and cinnamon candy, the realization comes when he finally just can’t fucking take it anymore and winds up putting his nose against the top of your head. The tension in the taller boy’s frame just kind of melts away, all the anger and the stress he’s been carrying around because Steve’s awol lately and then Carol decided to abandon ship too, it all just kind of vanishes.

Your legs wind up around his waist and you breathe in deep. Because he smells like cologne and cigarettes, the cheap beer he’s been nursing all night and for some reason, fresh mown grass. It’s a combination that’s odd and somehow, it’s relaxing. “Oh man,” you hiccup out as you take a deep breath or two, “I-I’m g-gonna be i-in s-serious shit, for sure. Deeeep shit.”

Tommy gingerly grips your chin to make you look up at him. “Yeah?” he questions softly. “Why’s that, hm?”

Your hand goes to your mouth and you giggle. He reaches up to lower your hand and you answer, explaining that not only have you never really been a big drinker, you also snuck out of your parents house tonight to even come to this stupid party. And then Tommy realizes that when Billy tore off earlier it's because Billy had a plan in mind. You tell him that Billy conned him into coming to the stupid party in the first place.

At first, Tommy’s a little jealous. But then he thinks about the whole ‘other fish’ speech in the car on the way over. Billy’s not the most subtle. He kind of hinted around about you at one point, bringing up the fact that he caught you staring when he had to come into the class you’re in with Billy earlier in the day to get something he’d left in Billy’s Camaro.

And it hits him. Billy dragged him out to the party tonight because the shithead was going to play cupid. Or try to. And Tommy’s laughing to himself because it’s in that moment, something clicks for him further.

Billy, a Camaro driving badass that everybody’s scared shitless to cross.. Billy actually does really consider him a friend. He’s not just a sidekick.

He’s not a sidekick and he was chosen. Noticed by a girl. You didn’t notice Billy or Steve, you noticed him. You wanted him. And Billy actually valued his friendship because Billy tended to keep a distance and not get personally involved in other people’s shit otherwise, he knew Billy Hargrove well enough at this point to know that. And yet, Tommy thinks with a genuine smile, he’s getting involved right now.

The shock of it all fades away and he locks eyes with you. “You wanna come outside with me?”

You nod quietly. “Not s’ sure I’m gonna be the best walker..” you give this cute little sheepish shrug when you say it. He laughs and shrugs too. “I gotcha.” he scoops you up to carry you out the back door and your arms wind up around his neck and you’re laughing because you can’t stop thinking about what you admitted to your friends during your little stupid game earlier.

Parts of you are tempted to just let it all slip out but the other parts of you, the parts of you that know better and know it’ll be a disaster, they override the overwhelming urge, thankfully.

You’re just kind of quiet, kind of content to take what you can get -fully aware that you’ll pretend this went further than it did later on when you’re all alone. The thought elicits a soft purr that tickles this one spot on Tommy’s neck that’s the quickest way to drive him crazy.

He has to tighten his grip because when he hears -and feels, the sound, it’s all he can do not to drop you because it goes straight to his cock. And the inner turmoil grows. Because now, he’s not only dealing with whether to sit on what he’s overheard or bring it up somehow but in addition, he’s dealing with the fact that it’s been quite a dry spell, this is the longest he’s gone without some kind of physical affection, even if it’s just a heated kiss to shut his former girlfriend the hell up.

So every little noise, every little shift your body makes against his, all of it… It’s really driving him crazy right now. He’s real riled up but… He’s determined to behave himself.

This needs time. You’re not in the shape right now and Tommy’s honestly just enjoying the night for what it’s turned into for once. He hasn’t felt this happy in a really long time.

Since 7th grade when Carol just sort of drifted into his life and Steve stood up for him with some asshole in their class who constantly tormented him about any number of things, from his teeth, to his freckles or the way he dressed back then.

He’s forgotten what it feels like and now that he’s being reminded, he just isn’t in a hurry for the feeling to end.

He digs around in the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a lighter and you’re clinging to him. “I’ve gotta be getting heavy to hold.” you gaze at him in concern and Tommy’s brow raises. “Are you kiddin me?”

“Well, I mean..” you laugh softly. “I’m not a feather, y’know.”

“You’re not a cow either, holy shit.” Tommy laughs and the laughter dies away. You don’t feel right clinging to him the way you are or making him hold you so you slip out of his arms. Tommy pouts a little to himself, the pout fading when you compromise by leaning against him. He lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. “Hey..” he nods to a lounge chair on the deck, “C’mon. Let’s get you sitting. Pretty sure everything is spinnin right now, huh?”

You giggle. Hold up your fingers and drawl that it is.

He situates himself in the lounge chair and pulls you down so that you’re sitting between his legs. You lean yourself back against him and before he can stop himself, an arm is slipping around your waist. He tells himself it’s just so your ex boyfriend will fuck off and leave you alone tonight, because he happens to be lurking outside and watching the two of you intently,

But deep down he knows that isn’t the only reason.

You spot a cluster of stars. And you glance back at him. “I think that’s Cassiopeia.”

Tommy’s blank look prompts an explanation and about halfway through, you feel like maybe you’re boring him to death because you have to be, this isn’t gossip and that’s what he’s used to because he’s one of them, after all. You trail off and go quiet.

Tommy leans into you a little from behind. “What were you gonna say?”

You finish telling him about Cassiopeia and the way she was elevated to the sky along with Cephus and Princess Andromeda as a star but her punishment for boasting came in the form of embarrassment, she was forced to wheel around the North celestial pole and spend half her time clinging to her throne just so she doesn’t fall off.

Tommy chuckles quietly. “There’s uh.. One problem, princess. We’re probably a little too far away from the North celestial Pole for that to be Cassiopeia.” he tries not to but he winds up resting his chin on your shoulder and you laugh softly. “You’re probably right.”

The wind picks up a little and he rubs your arms. “Cold?” he asks the question with a laugh.

“Kinda. But it’s okay.” your teeth are chattering. His jacket winds up around your shoulders and despite telling himself not to do it, he winds up positioning himself even closer so that his chest is pressed completely against his back and both of his legs cage in both of yours on the side. You gulp and when you take a few deep breaths after, they all come out shaky.

You huddle into the jacket over your shoulders for warmth and all you can smell is Tommy. All the little things that make up his scent have you smiling like an idiot. And the warmth of the jacket, you make yourself laugh quietly when you have the thought that he’s an actual human furnace.

Across the patio, Ben is watching. Seething and fuming.

Furious because you barely let him touch you and yet you’re sharing a lounge chair with that idiot Tommy Hagan. Carol notices his attention’s drifted from her and when she happens to glance over to see why, she’s flooded with hurt and jealousy.

And anger because how dare him. He wasn’t supposed to get over her like this. It’s only been a few weeks.

Tommy happens to glance up just in time to catch both Ben and Carol watching you both and he tenses. Grumbles to himself about it quietly but decides right then and there that he’s not worried about either of them. If Ben wants to try something, he’ll start and finish whatever Ben attempts.

Tommy isn’t the only one whose noticed the latest happy couple of Hawkins High as their gazes burn into the two of you.

“What the hell are no tits and no brains lookin at right now?” you mutter mostly to yourself. Maybe it’s the vodka or something else that leads you to do it, but you stare right back at Carol, sticking out your tongue as you roll your eyes.

“Take a picture, holy shit.” you grumble and this makes Tommy laugh. Then he remembers that Carol used to tease you a lot when you were all kids. And he cringes at the mental replay because thinking about it now, it’s clear to him that she had to have been doing it because she was jealous, same as when she constantly gave Nancy hell last year when Steve started dating her.

When Tommy catches Ben glaring at him all he does is raise his middle finger. Unlike you, he’s loud. With a razor sharp tongue and sarcasm that knows no bounds. And he’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind.

“Keep lookin over here, Thompson. It’ll be your last fuckin mistake.” Tommy calls out to Ben.

“Have fun with your downgrade, Tommy.” Carol cozies up to Ben and smirks. Tommy is hurt a little, it does sting because you don’t just spend the largest part of your life with somebody and suddenly you can just turn off everything you felt at once, but.. The anger he feels at her comment overshadows it briefly and he comes to the realization that Carol Perkins has always been this exact brand of miserable bitch.

And he’s starting to see that maybe he was getting tired of the misery and the fighting or the way that the only time they seemed to click was whenever they were making everyone around them miserable too. This leads to his final realization.

While Steve missed his point about Nancy Wheeler entirely, Steve hadn’t been wrong to say some of the shit he said to the two of them the last time they spoke. And he knows it’s gotta be tense for Billy because they were slowly starting to be friends and then the fight happened and the rift started. They’re all on the same basketball team and this rift has definitely caused chaos in the dynamic on the court.

Maybe if he was ready to cut ties and move on, maybe he needed to try. To offer some kind of olive branch to Steve, at least tell the guy he was right, that he had been an asshole.

He decides that he’ll go over to Steve’s in the morning and he’ll try to talk to him. In honor of turning over what he hopes will be a new leaf.

You decide to turn so that you’re facing Tommy and when you do, this causes you to put your legs over his thighs with your feet dangling off the chair. Tommy’s eyes catch on your lips again. He licks his lips and you swallow hard, your eyes following the way his tongue drags over his lips.

When you blurt it out before you can stop yourself, you want to disappear, melt away through the the patio straight into another dimension never to return.

“You uh.. You have really pretty eyes.” you mumble quietly, your gaze settling on the way your bare legs top Tommy’s jean clad thighs. Tommy swallows hard and chuckles. And there’s this little rush, the slightest lazy flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“You do too.” he answers after taking another drag of the cigarette he’s nearly smoked to the butt end. He flicks the cigarette at a bucket nearby full of glass bottles, ice cream wrappers, other food wrappers and a few other cigarette butts.

Then he turns his attention back to you.

Across the way a little, Ben and Carol are both fuming about their respective losses. Carol smirks to herself as she decides that if she can’t have Tommy some little nobody like you is getting him either. She fully intends to make your life a living hell from Monday onward.

Maybe if she pushes hard enough, you’ll back off and Tommy won’t move on, leaving her behind.

And Ben agrees to go along with it simply because he’s an asshole and he genuinely can’t stand Tommy Hagan.

Billy arrives back at the party with an armload of beer that he dragged your older brother out of bed to get and you cringe when you ask, “So.. uh.. How much trouble am I in?”

“You’re good, pint size.” Billy shrugs and grins.

You raise a brow. Billy laughs. “Relax, woman. Just fucking like.. Enjoy tonight.”

You nod.

Tommy takes one of the cans for himself and gets one of the other guys on their team who’s heading back inside to see if Tina’s still got Sprite or something in the house.

“My girl’s kind of toasted, buddy.” Tommy explains to Eric with a chuckle. Eric gives him a thumbs up and glances from you back to Tommy. “Your girl, huh?” Eric chuckles again. “Sprite. Comin up, man.”

You blink a little but you don’t try to correct Tommy when he says it because deep down, you wish it was true.

Eric comes back out a minute or two later and he tosses the Sprite to Tommy. Tommy pulls the tab and hands it to you. “I don’t think you need to mix vodka with this shit, " he holds up the beer he's drinking and continues, "princess. Hangover’s already gonna be hell tomorrow, I think.”

Billy winces but he laughs. “And I’m going to come over bright and early just to be loud.”

“You, sir, are a dick.” you pout and stick your tongue out at Billy.

Billy shrugs. But he laughs. “Nah.”

You stick out your tongue at him.

Tommy chuckles quietly.

“I’m gonna talk to Harrington tomorrow. Try to clear the air, man. We’ve got that big practice game next week.”

Billy nurses the beer in his hand and nods. “Yep. We all need to be on the same page, Hagan. Guy needs to get his head in the game. So do you. But I think you’re gonna be okay… Right?”

Tommy laughs and nods in agreement.

Billy chuckles. “It’s about damn time, Hagan.” he tosses him another cold one after Tommy’s crushed the can of the one he’s just finished in his hand. “Chug, Hagan.”

Tommy laughs, but he starts to chug down the beer Billy’s just given him.

The party is coming to a quiet conclusion inside. Billy stands and stretches, giving a lazy yawn. “I think this party is dead now.”

“Totally dead.” Tommy agrees and all you do is yawn sleepily and give a thumbs up. Tommy snickers and then his gaze settles on you. Billy speaks up. “Pint size… You comin with us or what?”

“The car.” you start to speak up and remind Billy that you did drive your Mustang to the party tonight, but Billy shakes his head, shutting it down with a shrug.

“Your brother said he’d get it in the morning if there wasn’t a dependable DD to drive it. You realize you’re gonna owe him one though… Right?”

“Yeah.” you grumble about owing your brother one but you’re happy that he’s actually not going to rat you out to your mother because she’d have a small farm if she knew that you not only snuck out tonight to come in the first place, but you were also too drunk to really function for most of the night.

And the lecture you’d get, oh my god.

Tommy stands and this puts you wrapped around him. His arms caged underneath your ass and he’s holding onto you nice and tight so he doesn’t drop you. “I got the back seat, man.”

“Neither of you were gettin shotgun anyway.” Billy states, glancing from Tommy to you as he holds up the half of the case he’s got left. “Where else am I sittin my drinks, hm?”

Tommy laughs. The three of you make your way out to Billy’s Camaro and as it pulls to a stop a few houses down from your house, Tommy slips out and holds out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll help you get in.”

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to though.” he insists. You can only nod and let him grab your hand and pull you out of the backseat. Then you’re being carried again, deposited on the steps by the back door.

Tommy’s hesitant to leave, so he’s lingering. Stepping closer to you as he leans in and one of his hands catches in the hair at the back of your head. Your noses bump clumsily and you both laugh. The kiss is sweet but awkward, your hand gripping the front of his shirt as you raise up onto your toes to close the distance between your mouths. When your brother finally drags himself down to open the door, he chuckles and sizes Tommy up.

As you’re about to disappear into your house, Tommy runs back up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” he wants to kick himself because he meant to ask you if you wanted to do something the next day. Not tell you he’d see you. “Fuck.” he grumbles, annoyed with himself. “I meant to ask if you wanted to go to the Hawk with me tomorrow night. That uh.. The Terminator is playing, I think.” and again, he wants to kick himself because this is not something he’s used to at all. He laughs. “Or we can see something different.”

You giggle. Raise up to tiptoe to brush your lips against his as you place your hand against his shirt. “The Terminator is fine… Rambo.” you give him a little wink before vanishing into your parents house because you just can’t resist the urge.

Tommy grins like an idiot and as he bolts back down to Billy’s idling Camaro, he pumps his fist in victory.

Billy’s laughing as he watches Tommy race towards him. The Camaro speeds off and Billy smirks when he glances over at Tommy out of the corner of his eye as he drives away and casually repeats what he told him hours ago when they were sitting at the curb outside Tina’s party. “I told you, man. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Yeah you did.”

#tommy hagan #tommy hagan fanfiction #tommy hagan x fem!reader #tommy hagan imagine #tommy hagan oneshot #tommy hagan x fem!reader imagine #// if i go beyond part 1 there is going to be so much steve/tommy/billy friendship and shenanigans i s2g #// bc lowkey i kinda liked any of the three with each other #// but to write it oh god. i'd never fucking do it justice bc just trust me.#// so yeah.#// this is out there now.#// idk if there will be more or not. i left room to add if i choose.#// i just had to give my two babies ... something.#// so why not indulge everyone else too hm?#// so if you've been looking for an x reader thing with Tommy H... here ya go i guess.

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yikesharringrove · 2 years

Text

Steve and his moles. Headcanons from a spotted bitch

Steve goes to the dermatologist to get his moles mapped every few years or so

But that boy is in there every three months bc ‘I think this one is new and it’s kinda weird and should I get it removed???????’

He’s had at least six removed bc they were oddly shaped and they made him anxious

When he’s bored he plays connect the dots on his arms and legs

When he was little he called them his ‘chocolate chips’

He has over 300 on his right arm alone

He has one on his thigh that’s shaped like a tiny heart and only Billy and his doctor have seen it

Billy sometimes gives it lil kisses

Once he and tommy got made fun of for their respective freckles and moles and they stole some makeup from their moms and tried to cover them up

It didn’t work

Steve has two next to his bellybutton that make it look like a little surprised face :o

For how many he has he only has two elevated ones that he’s SUPER self conscious about

One is on the back of his neck and it’s like 99% of the reason he keeps his hair long

#yikes headcanons #almost all of these are based on my moles #my sister and i used to call them chocolate chips and my mom would count them when we were young #and i have to get them mapped out because i get new ones all the fucking time #anyway #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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trashyslashers · 2 years

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could u do a :3c a lil fic where tommy takes a liking to one of the victims hoyt brings him so he keeps her in his room and dresses her up and like brings her food and she hates him at first obviously because he killed her friends and kidnapped her but eventually she warms up to him

Conversion | Thomas Hewitt x reader | Part I

// AN: Anon I am SO sorry this took so long; I completely scrapped multiple drafts I had and rewrote this several times because I was unhappy with how it was going.

I want to just bring up a few things: I'm trying to be a bit more accurate in regards to how I portray slashers when I write for them; I've been... really unhappy with my own writing and portrayals lately, so with that I want to note that in the beginning of their encounter, though I don't go into it a ton in the first part, Thomas does treat the reader like he would any other victim - but obviously that changes once things progress. This is a bit after that.

Also, reflecting her scared state of mind, reader is a bit mean about Tommy in the beginning - not to him (i.e... what she's thinking, her feelings, lmao) but obviously this also changes. I think anyone would be at least a little angry if they were being held captive after witnessing their friends get murdered, haha.

Gave names to side characters just to save any confusion.

This is PART ONE. It's coming out... much longer than I intended for it to, and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so I decided to break it into parts. I'd apologize but I mean, hey, it's more Thomas content. And that's never a bad thing.

Words: 4,293

TWs: General violence and angst; reader's friends are murdered, and she's held captive and very obviously afraid. Mentions of Hoyt being a creep. Mentions of vomiting (though not described), and implications of reader going extended periods of time without eating due to fear.

----

It was the drawl of the old radio that you heard, first; static from the old thing so harsh that the voice on it sounded almost alien with how warped it was, the country song playing on it so incomprehensible that your first thought was how could anyone listen to this shit?

The heat of the sun beating through the window was the second thing you felt, accompanied by the nauseatingly strong, sweetly metallic scent that filled your nose and saturated your mouth. You would’ve vomited from the overwhelming scent if you hadn’t already done so before. Your bodyinstead settled for retching, and your legs were sore as you moved them, bringing your hand down to shield your eyes from the blinding sun, the simple motion jerking you with a start as you realized your hands were no longer tied up. That, and the question of how - and why - you weren’t dead yet.

You felt ill, and you wanted quiet, but the girl next to you - Piper, you think her name was - would not stop wailing. Her boyfriend was dead, and she had not stopped screaming and crying since then, degradation and insults thrown from her mouth every chance she got. You had been in and out of consciousness since then, your time spent in the basement feeling as if it were years ago, rather than only probably about an hour, at most, ago. You did not know why you were brought up to the kitchen and didn’t end up on the table like her boyfriend had, gut with a saw while alive, or on a hook - but you knew why Piper didn’t. She was pretty; a busty redhead, a bit taller than yourself, and a bit of an anomaly to look at; pixie cut auburn hair and soft blue eyes, skin lightly tanned and freckled. The Sheriff liked her. He liked her, and he had demanded that she better get left, and that’s the reason she wasn’t dead - the yet silent, but nonetheless tacked on.

She was tied up, but she had been since she was essentially dragged into what looked to be the kitchen of the house, her bare legs bound at the ankles and wrists above her head to a doorknob. You felt bad for her. You wanted to help her - but your head hurt far too much, the thought of even sitting up making bile bubble up in your throat. You whimpered, knowing that if you sat up yet, you’d go right back down.

“Fucking - help me,” She sputtered when she heard you, doing her best to nudge you with her legs. “This is your fucking fault - we’re all dying because of you -”

You, who’d suggested taking a shortcut, pointing out a smaller turn off of the main road you’d been traveling on. Your fault because you suggested it - but ultimately it was the driver, her boyfriend, who got your lot lost, nearly out of gas resulting in you guys having to push the van up the street to the small store. The woman inside hadn’t heard of the town you guys were heading to, and so she called the Sheriff to see if he could help while you tried to fight the feeling that something was going wrong. You busied yourself, fiddling with some of the various knick knacks that were up around the shop, half tempted to actually buy something, but stopped yourself when you figured your friends would’ve chewed into you for wasting your money on some old crap, as you heard them say. You liked the four of them, really - though you hardly knew two of them. Piper and her boyfriend were the newest additions, mutual friends of the other two. You’d just met them that day.

The Sheriff had arrived not too long after that. He was an angry looking, blunt older man who looked out of place in the uniform he wore - but despite this, though, he was cordial; the drawl of his accent and the way he so graciously offered to drive your lot back to the station to ring for a tow truck pulling everyone into a false sense of Southern safety. He actually let you sit up front, and your friends piled in the back. From the corner of your eye you swore you could see his lip twitch in irritation as he watched through the rear view mirror as Piper practically straddled her boyfriend. "Only three seats, sorry" was their excuse, spoken through bit lips. "Not enough room."

Hours passed like minutes after that. Once you guys realized you weren't being taken to the station and rather to a large plantation house far out of the way, nerves rose in the car, the tension palpable. Your two closest friends - Sonya and Holly, the ones the trip itself was supposed to be for as they were celebrating their anniversary - were the ones who asked just where the Sheriff was taking you.

"To mama's house," He’d said, his voice low and more foreboding than it was anything else. He didn't even try to sound reassuring. He spoke as if you were supposed to know what that meant.

That's when you realized that there were no handles on the interior of the car - only on the driver's side. Not even the passenger's seat. You didn’t want to question it, assuming that it was normal for a cop car to have none - but the lack of any on the passenger’s door only made the feeling of unease sink deeper into your stomach, until you couldn’t sit still or keep quiet.

“Why not the station?”

The Sheriff shot you a side eye, though he didn’t move beyond that. “Don’t you worry, honey. Things’ll be just fine.”

- Fine, with three of your four friends dead, and you knew that you and the remaining were soon to follow. Piper knew this too, and you knew her anger at you wasn’t personal.

You huffed, your throat tight as you shifted your weight as best as you could towards her and pulled yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the way your temple throbbed where you’d banged your head off the doorframe when you were hauled to the basement before. Piper hushed when she saw you moving to help her, her sobs dropping into sniffling whimpers. Whoever had bound her wrists and ankles knew what they were doing; the knots were tight enough that you almost had to search for a knife to pick at them, but you ultimately were able to free her without any help. Her hands trembled, her movements jerky as she stood up - and bolted for the nearby exit without you.

A single gunshot echoed through the yard not long after that. You didn’t hear her scream.

----

Thomas, as you learned his name to be soon after that, had shown an almost admirable amount of self restraint and gentleness towards you for the past week.

You could see it in the tremble of his hands; the way his fingers would flex and unflex so subtly that you might've been imagining it as he stood in front of you as he did from time to time; the look on what you could see of his face made you think he wasn't quite sure what to do with you. Like he hadn't expected to make it this far with you. The Sheriff - Hoyt, as who you presumed to be the matriarch of the household would call him -, nearly went ballistic when he saw that you were still alive later that day, questioning "The hell are you doin', Tommy?" when he saw you, alive but not quite well, with your arms tied behind your back and fastened to the banister at the foot of the stairs, not far from the basement.

Truth be told, you had no idea what Thomas was doing, either. You were half expecting the Sheriff to shoot you right there in the house, or for Thomas to change his mind and comply with the Sheriff's apparent desire for you to be killed like the others, but he didn't. Instead, he'd stood between the Sheriff and yourself, and from your spot on the floor could you see him shake his head - the action a subtle, yet clearly firm, no. He wasn’t going to kill you.

Or at least, not yet anyway.

You were exhausted, and you made no attempt at hiding it or kidding yourself - you were terrified, too. You’d been holed up in the room Thomas had brought you up to later that night, either tucked off in the corner or pacing whenever your anxiety was too high to sit. You felt like an animal in a cage; a half-dead mouse that the cat had dragged in, kept as a pet by the family from then on for reasons you could not determine. Thomas was at least trying to be hospitable, as befuddling as it was to you, and trying to apparently take care of you. Not a day went by that he didn’t visit you at least once, more often than not with some sort of food item in his hands that you aways, always refused to eat; the look of silent, but subtle frenzy growing on what was visible of his face as the days went on and you wouldn’t even touch what he brought you. The only thing you ever accepted were the glasses of water he brought you. You figured it was self preservation kicking in, or something - with the heat of Texas, even in the technically cooler months, you didn’t want to risk dehydration. You’d risk being poisoned, sure - though you figured that he would opt for a quicker method of death if he really wanted you dead, seeing as you were still alive nearly a week later. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was intent on keeping you around.

Either that, or he had impeccable patience and wanted to gain your trust before doing anything.

You weren’t sure which was the worse scenario.

What you were sure of, though, was that no amount of time was ever going to make you trust him fully. Your friends were all dead (Piper joined them in the basement, not long after her attempted escape. You had a feeling that the fact that you didn’t flee - despite being because you couldn’t, not because you didn’t want to - played a role in your survival), and if they weren’t killed by him, their bodies most certainly were handled by him post mortem. You saw how he picked them up - even Piper’s boyfriend - hauling the bodies of nearly grown adults around with ease, down to the basement, never to be seen again.

Thomas, both in size and strength, was terrifying.

Yet that was what astounded you. When he was around you, though, it was like this strength and brutality that seemed to come so naturally to him was gone. He seemed shy - dare you even say timid, almost - when he was around you; his eyes looking nervously at your face, up and down your body in a way that didn’t feel like he was giving you the same once over that a handful of people have given you in the past that always left you feeling exposed and uncomfortable. It was more like he was observing you; watching for any hint you might try to run, yet careful and hesitant as if he was calculating his next move in a deliberate attempt at not scaring you anymore than you already were. It left you frightened and confused, especially since Thomas never spoke. You hadn’t heard him speak to any of his family, either; whether or not it was a choice he made to remain mute or if he couldn’t speak you were not sure, but at times it only served as a point of frustration of sorts as he couldn’t, wouldn't, answer your questions of why, nor reply to your begging.

Despite this, he was apparently trying his damndest to make you feel comfortable. The occasions he wasn't coming to visit you in an attempt to get you to eat, he remained in the threshold of the doorway, not daring to set foot in the room. Instead, he would just stare at you - a look that you couldn't quite decipher on his face; his thick eyebrows knit tightly as he watched you, like he was desperately trying to, somehow, communicate something you couldn't quite grasp. It bothered you, to the degree that you found yourself questioning if you weren't doing enough to try and get yourself out of there. You had a feeling Thomas was the only thing that stood between you and a death at the hands of the Sheriff, and you feared that an escape attempt might potentially anger him. You weren’t sure if such a risk was even worth it.

And even then, if you did manage to escape, where would you go? What help was there? Was there even any?

The weight of hopelessness settled deep in the pit of your stomach once again, and you couldn’t stop the hiccup that crawled up your throat as tears returned to your dried out eyes. This entire situation was absurd; it was scary, intense like a fever dream you were desperately begging your mind to wake you up from - it was hopeless. There was no escaping. You keeled over, your spot on the ground in the corner serving you well as you probably would’ve crumbled to the ground if you were standing. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed, and ignored the commotion from the floor below you. You figured it was Hoyt bitching about your noise, again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tune in. It would only add fuel to the fire of your upset, and that was the last thing you needed as you already felt like you were going to be ill from how harshly your body retched from your crying. It wasn’t the first time in your days there that this happened, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

You were too focused on trying to control your breathing to notice the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, but your breath hitched in your throat when you heard the floor of the hallway creak, though you were at least mildly relieved when you realized it wasn’t the Sheriff. In your time spent in your room, you learned, even through separate floors, to tell apart the footsteps of the inhabitants of the house. Thomas’ footsteps were never hard to tell apart from those of the others; loud, almost unintentionally angry sounding - but not quite stomping. They always softened the closer he, the only one so far who had come to see you, got to your room, but never fell entirely silent - it seemed he was aware of his own size and strength enough to control it, but it wasn’t something that could be entirely suppressed. Some part of you appreciated the thought of him at least trying.

The slip of the latch on the other side made you flinch, and you sniffled harshly when the door began to creak open, the dim light from the hallway flooding into the mostly dark room (the moon shone through the bare window at the far end, but barely. It was cloudy out - ) and casting Thomas’ shadow across the floor. You didn’t look up at him, not wanting to see that damned look he always gave you. It was almost like he pitied you, or as if he felt bad for you; something akin to softness in his eyes as he looked you over, as if the knowledge of how sad and scared you must be upset him. It was a concept that just seemed so utterly bizarre to you that you felt like an idiot for even considering the possibility. Your refusal to look at him didn’t seem to put him off, though, as after a moment of what you figured was contemplation he crossed the threshold into the bedroom towards you. You wiggled yourself as far back into the corner as you could as he neared you, and kept your eyes glued to the floor between the two of you. He stopped just short of you, and you tensed harshly under his gaze as he shifted and dropped down to his knees in front of you.

The soft rustle of fabric made your heart skip a beat, not unlike a palpitation, and briefly did the idea that Thomas was different from what you thought skit across your mind, but it was hushed when a bundle of fabric was dropped onto the dusty floor in front of you. It just so happened to be a slightly faded [your favorite color], and before you could really think it through did you reach for it, your fingers brushing the fabric as you took in how soft it surprisingly was, and after a moment you pulled it open, blinking the remaining tears from your eyes as you realized it was a dress. Its surface was dotted with tiny, delicately printed flowers, and a size that seemed to fit you - the sleeves reaching just above your elbows and the hem of the skirt just above your knees. You weren’t sure how to feel about it, let alone react, and you had a feeling you already knew the answer to the question that pressed your mind more than anything else did.

Was this for you to wear?

You thought about how hot it was during the day; how your own clothes stuck to your skin which was slick with sweat in a way that made you itch for a shower to wash all the blood and dirt from your body. You felt heavy and damp all of the time, and the thought of how much better any change of clothes would be compared to your current well worn, filthy outfit made you shudder and you squeezed the dress in your hands as you thumbed the slightly pilled fabric.

The dress was nice - pretty, even - or at least it was, until your eyes landed on what you tried to tell yourself wasn’t a small, now browned stain of blood along the hem of one of the sleeves.

This came from a body.

Suddenly the dress felt dirty and cold in your hands. Your breath hitched in your throat and you shifted in your spot awkwardly and held your breath, your train of thought long off the rails as you weren’t sure what to do. You couldn’t help but wonder about the life of the previous owner of the dress, and what their final moments were like. You wondered how they’d feel knowing it was being given away like this.

You hoped they didn’t haunt you.

After a moment you realized Thomas was staring down at you, and you felt yourself shrink under him. Something about the fact that he must’ve gone out of his way to bring you what appeared to be, apart from the blood, a clean dress made your heart feel fluttery. Did he regularly just… save clothing from their victims? It would make sense, to a degree; the area of Texas was poor, and in your travels the only store you’d passed in about two hours had been the roadside shop you ultimately were taken from. You didn’t doubt that some of those who’ve traveled through had items of value on them, and so keeping items - no matter how much you wanted to argue the morality of - made sense more than it didn’t. You weren’t sure if you should take his gift as a sort of olive branch - an offering to show that he wasn’t going to harm you, that he wanted you to feel better because he knew you had to feel stuffy, dirty, and uncomfortable in your clothes - or if you should view it as more of a "you were good, you didn’t try to fight or run away, he’s your reward for behaving."

But then again, he brought it to you in the midst of your sobbing which you did not doubt was audible from downstairs.

You glanced through the window at the far side of the room. The moon was brighter, higher in the sky, and the glow of it made you realize how heavy with sleep your eyes were. The thought of slipping into something clean and dozing off was entirely too alluring.

Your voice was quiet, raw, and gentle; so very evident that you had only been using it for crying for some time, as you asked “Is this for me?” You found the courage to look him in the eyes, and your own met the soft concern of his as he looked down at you. He looked upset, as if knowing how uncomfortable and distressed you were was in turn upsetting him, but nonetheless he nodded.

“Thank you,” It was even quieter than your question, and you looked back down at the dress. Your naturally polite nature shown through, and you thought for a second you’d been too quiet for him to hear, but you could see his hands (which had been resting neatly on the tops of his thighs as he knelt in front of you) twitch ever so slightly before he slowly - slowly - brought his right one up. You weren’t sure what it was - let it be fear, anxiety, or perhaps adrenaline was still pumping through you - but the simple motion of his hand reaching for you sent you jumping back reflexively into the corner, your own startle seeming to give Thomas his own as he very quickly yanked his hand back. Had this been any other circumstance you would’ve laughed at your own skittishness over such a simple thing, but you found yourself feeling almost bad for frightening him as well. It was with an almost crushing sense more of confusion than anything else that you realized that Thomas did not seem intent on harming you. He’s had countless opportunities to do so, more than you could even count; you, asleep in the room at night on the rare occasion you were able to doze off; when you were left alone in the house with just him after the other occupants seemed to have left to go tend to their own out-of-the-house duties, the splintering door that kept you shut in being the only thing that kept the two of you separate; to times like now, when the others were home, and he had you practically backed into a corner like you were, still absolutely towering over your huddled form despite being on his knees in front of you in what you assumed was an attempt at not overwhelming you by standing over you. It confused you, it frightened you, but it also made you feel, in a very strange way, safe.

Swallowing your fear, your desire to placate the tension overpowering your hesitation, you moved before you could think enough to stop yourself and gently reached for him, your palm turned inward as if you were going for a handshake. You couldn’t get yourself to look him in the face, but watched instead as he, after taking a moment of what you assumed to be contemplation, brought his hand up to your own, albeit notably much slower than before. The feeling of touch after everything that’s happened was almost too much, but you ignored how your arm tensed up at the contact as you pressed your hand against his much larger one (oh god, how he could so easily crush your skull if he wanted to, being your first thought) before taking a deep breath and holding his hand with your own, your other hand releasing the dress and gripping the back of his hand, essentially enclosing his hand between your own.

It was a very strange feeling, and an even stranger moment; you weren’t entirely sure what compelled you to initiate contact with him, nor did you have an idea what it was meant to accomplish, but what it did do was at least establish, or at least the very beginnings of, one thing:

“You won’t hurt me?”

Thomas shook his head.

The two of you sat in silence like that for several minutes; neither of you sure what to do or say, but rather just trying to take each other in and make sense of everything. He left the room not too long after that, giving you the privacy you needed to finally discard the soiled clothing you’d been wearing, and without a second to spare slip into the dress. The last thing you needed was for the Sheriff to catch on that Thomas had left you alone while you changed.

Now able to really see yourself, the damage from the past few days was apparent; the now bare skin of your arms and legs was patterned with bruises, cuts, and scrapes; dotted with goosebumps as the slightly cooler air of the night time gave you a chill and left you shivering. But it was comfortable, and it was, after you pushed the knowledge that the dress you were in came from a dead body, clean, and you were, to a degree, arguably, safe. Or, at least, as safe as you could be in such a situation, and you had a feeling that your own sense of what safety was wasn’t going to really be quite the same anymore after everything that’s happened. You weren’t sure where you were going to end up after this, or what was going to happen, and you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know. At least, not yet. You were too tired to think anymore.

Not wanting to risk another upset, you debated between the bed and floor; the latter absolutely much less comfortable, but the former didn’t feel right - like you were getting too comfortable. You settled for pulling the blanket from the bed and curling up in the corner, allowing yourself to sleep after days fighting off anything that wasn’t just light dozing.

Thomas didn’t come back for the rest of the night.

#request #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher fandom #slasher x you #slasher imagines #slasher scenarios #slasher scenario #slasher imagine #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #leatherface x reader

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cartoonsaint · 2 years

Text

been busy (but in decent health yay!) the past month so writing’s been slow; figured that for now i’d offer a lil sth i wrote about a year ago and never finished, mostly bc it required me to maintain too high a suspension of disbelief about how hot and/or how much effort mr gordos feetman would put into his appearance. the guy canonically uses head & shoulders. and he's proud about it. man wouldn't know a mousse from a moisturizer.

a lot of the beats and central tensions i had planned for this story have been folded into a different project i like more, so this little bit is all that remains. Not A Game AU, might actually be rated G (wow!), contains eating and some talk of weight and appearances. enjoy an oblivious gordon learning that many people think he’s hot, including at least one person at the dinner table. surely he’d use that information wisely and not be a big dumb smug bastard about it, right?

That night at dinner, Joshua sets aside his drink (root beer cut with seltzer, a treat he only gets when they eat with the NeoScience Team), a thoughtful look on his freckled face, and asks, “Daddy, why do all the other parents always wanna talk to you?”

“What?” Gordon says, chuckling. He nudges some of the mystery root vegetable he’s just cut up towards his son, who studiously avoids it to fork another bit of meat. Venison of some kind, he thinks? Tommy and Sunkist caught it today, they said. “The other parents don’t always wanna talk to me. I’m hardly ever even there, bud.”

Joshua frowns and opens his mouth to rebut, but Coomer advises, “We don’t talk with our mouths full at the table, Joshua!” Obediently, Joshua closes his mouth and begins to chew quickly, the better to ask his question sooner, but the rest of the table has already had its attention caught.

“Why would anyone ever want to talk to your father?” scoffs a voice in Sylfaen, though Gordon can hear that Bubby’s smirking around the straw of his protein shake. “He’s so boring. He can’t even set anything on fire.”

“Don-don’t say that!” Tommy interjects. Under the table he’s clearly offering a bite from his plate to Sunkist, who is in the form of a large hound today. The Perfect Dog does not beg, of course — though with Tommy’s big heart around, she doesn’t need to. “I, I’m sure Mr. Freeman could light, could set anything on fire if he really wanted to.”

“And since he doesn’t, he’s boring,” Bubby snarks back.

“Oh, are we setting things on fire?” Coomer asks brightly, pushing his chair back from the table as though to leap into action.

“No! We, we have to let Mr. Freeman do it!” Tommy protests, already half-standing.

“Why, so he can f— screw it up?”

“We’re not setting anything on fire,” Gordon says loudly before an argument (or a fire) can erupt. “Everyone sit down! Besides, Joshie, Bubby’s… well, kind of right. The other parents are just being friendly.”

“Of course I’m right,” Bubby mutters from across the table, but at least he settles some. The others retake their seats and for a moment it seems like they’ll be able to continue their nice, (relatively) calm dinner together without any more fuss.

But Joshua shakes his head furiously, swallowing at last. “Nuh-uh! When Daddy comes pick me up, all the other moms and dads always wanna talk to him. Benrey knows,” he adds stubbornly. “Benrey thinks it’s weird, too.”

As one, the table turns to Benrey.

Benrey, who is sitting on Josh’s other side cutting up his meat while Gordon cuts up his vegetables, doesn’t appear to notice. He reaches across Joshua’s plate to nudge the sweet potato (?) closer to him once more, sets his utensils down, and picks up his glass of Powerade. He’s mid-sip by the time he realizes he’s being stared at.

“Huh?” Benrey says.

Bubby mutters something under his breath that could be “slap him on the ass” for all Gordon can tell, but Coomer pipes up with, “Welcome back to the conversation, Benrey! We were just discussing whether or not the parents at Joshua’s elementary school go out of their way to talk to Gordon more than is typical. Since you work there, we figured you would know best!”

It’s still a mystery to Gordon how Benrey managed to land a job as a security guard at a children’s school in such a safe town, but at this point he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth (especially when that gift horse is Benrey). And anyway, Joshua and Benrey being in the same place kills several birds with one stone: Benrey’s out of Gordon’s hair, Gordon has the house to himself during the day, Joshua is under the constant protection of a non-human monster who is absolutely devoted to him, and if Gordon has a panic attack about living with a non-human monster who has access to his son, then he gets several hours alone to deal with it himself without anyone being the wiser.

It also means that Gordon rarely picks Joshua up from school. Benrey brings him home most days, except for when Gordon goes to collect them both so they can all go directly to a NeoScience Team Dinner together. So if there is a difference in the way the other parents treat Gordon, Benrey would know.

Despite himself, Gordon finds his attention on the other man, curious. What, if anything, has Benrey noticed?

“...Oh,” Benrey says slowly in response to Dr. Coomer. He sets his glass down slowly, as though his thoughts are elsewhere, and then he glances sideways at Josh so obviously that even Gordon notices.

“What are you—?” Gordon starts, but Bubby hushes him. Gordon glances around the table to find all eyes focused on his son and his roommate, whose own eyes are locked as they silently have what must be a ferocious, facial expression-based argument. Gordon huffs in frustration. “Come on, at least—”

Joshua interrupts him. “Benny, pleeeeease?”

At that Benrey throws his head back; his hands come up to tug at the strings of his chullo. “Ugh,” he groans, which transforms into a bout of sweet voice in bright blue and green with pink shot throughout.

“Watermelon slice by the pool: I love you, but you make me act a fool,” Tommy translates dutifully, but Gordon had already gotten the gist. He stares at Benrey as the guy slumps forward, face in hands. Joshua, apparently satisfied, picks up his fork and starts eating again.

“...Yeah,” Benrey finally says, voice as unreadable as always. “They all always wanna talk to him. Won’t leave him alone… sometimes me n’ Josh can’t even reach him.”

“Wait, really?” Gordon says, eyebrows shooting up. He’d noticed that the other parents did tend to clump together when waiting for their kids to come out, and they did always include him in conversations, but surely that was just them being friendly? “But they always — Isn’t that just… like, normal?”

Joshie actually giggles. Benrey, face still in his hands, shakes his head.

Gordon tugs on his bangs, uncertainty rising. “Really? But I don’t, I don’t even — why?”

“Muh, maybe it’s because you’re fun to talk to?” Tommy offers.

“O-oh. Well, I — thank you, Tommy,” Gordon says. “I mean, I guess I sort of am? Like, like I can talk about science all day, I guess, and — well, I am very funny. But I don’t, uh, don’t usually—”

“Perhaps it’s because you’re the main character, Gordon!” Coomer says boisterously.

“What? Dr. Coomer—”

“Oh my god,” Bubby mutters before raising his voice. “You’re all morons. It’s because he’s a DILF.”

Gordon sputters some high-pitched, disbelieving laughter that fails to resolve into words because, immediately, Benrey growls.

Gordon jumps. He recovers quickly, though — at least this is a distraction from that totally absurd conjecture that would likely end in his mockery — and puts his hands over Joshie’s ears, protective. “Benrey,” Gordon says warningly, but the guy doesn’t even look at him. He just goes silent, pulling his hat even lower and again covering the rest of his face with sharp-clawed hands.

“Oh, relax, I’m happily taken,” Bubby says waspishly, which has Gordon doubletaking as Joshua wiggles out of his hands. What? Since when? Who—?

“That would make sense, though,” Tommy says, thoughtful. “The, the DILF thing. Humans — uh, people do like to be close to attractive people, and, and talk to them, too. And Mr. Freeman is pretty hot.”

Gordon sputters, heat rising to his face. “W-wait, what??” Bubby spouting nonsense is one thing, but it hits different coming from the most put-together adult of their group. “Tommy—”

“What’s a DILF?” Joshua asks loudly.

“Excellent question, Joshua! The term DILF is based on the slang acronym ‘MILF.’ It stands for ‘Daddy I’d Like to—’”

Sunkist barks sharply in time with Gordon’s quick, “Woah woah hey!”

“It means they think he’s attractive, and would like to, to maybe date him,” Tommy explains kindly. Joshua ohhhs and stabs his last bite of meat, watching the conversation continue ping-ponging around the table without Gordon’s control.

“Subjectively, you’re too tall and your teeth are too white. Objectively, euh… some people like that.”

“Your face is very symmetrical, Mr. Freeman, and the, the gray streak and scars are — they’re distinctive and appealing!”

“Gordon, you often wear t-shirts that show off your arms, and your work-out regimen is clearly paying off,” Dr. Coomer says matter-of-factly.

“W-well, I had to be able to carry the HEV suit, and then exercising helped with stress,” Gordon admits. “But it’s not like I’m losing weight—”

“But you, you carry it well, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy says earnestly. “You look healthy.”

“Your skin is, hm, pretty good, too,” Bubby adds stiffly. “Keeps all your blood in. And your hair is…” He slurps at his near-empty protein shake, the sound somehow judgmental. “...fine.”

“Those are high compliments from the perfect organism, Gordon!”

“Uh, thanks, I moisturize. And use conditioner. But — but that doesn’t make me — those things don’t make a person hot.”

“No, but the effort certainly helps!” Tommy chirps. “You don’t seem to notice, but when we go out people sometimes — people stare. Plus you’re a, a single dad who loves kids. From the outside, you’re kind of a, kind of the total package, Mr. Freeman.”

“...Wait, ‘from the outside’ — what’s that supposed to—?”

“How did you think you got so many followers on JustinTV so fast? It obviously wasn’t your sparkling wit.”

“He’s right, Gordon! Attractiveness likely accounts for a large portion of the viewers on your channel!”

“No, hey, my wit is plenty sparkling! And, and, my filming set-up is kind of crap and you know it. Viewers probably wouldn’t even notice if I was, was—” For some reason, Gordon looks past Joshua (who appears to be attentively cataloging the facial expressions of everyone at the table) towards Benrey — but the guy is holding his hat to his face and singing a series of muffled chords into it, the colors of his sweet voice muted by the fabric, and doesn’t appear to even notice. Why isn’t he—?

“It’s four against one. You’re hot, get over it,” Bubby says, swapping his shake for a glass of bug juice.

“You really haven’t noticed, Mr. Freeman? People even, they treat you differently, even. Don’t you remember the other day when you, when that clerk gave you a discount for no good reason?”

“Hm! Gordon’s obliviousness would explain why he never uses his good looks to his advantage,” Coomer says thoughtfully.

“Wait, you can use being pretty to get stuff?” Joshua asks quickly. “Can I be pretty??”

“Of, of course you can, Joshua,” Tommy says indulgently.

For Gordon, this dumb hotness hypothesis is all too quickly developing into an unexpectedly supportable thesis. But he still has the evidence of twenty-seven years of being himself and looking in the mirror; while physical attractiveness isn’t necessarily the kind of thing to which he pays that much attention, surely he wouldn’t have missed it if he were hot.

“Guys, none of this matters because the premise of this conversation doesn’t make any sense. I’m not — I look okay, but I’m just regular. I’m nothing special. And I’m a smart guy, I graduated from MIT, I think I’d know, or notice, if I was, was — hot, or whatever.”

The table goes silent, all eyes on Gordon, and he can practically see the ellipses floating around his friends’ heads. A flush starts to build, heating his face and chest. “I would! You —” he tsks, annoyed — “you know, sometimes you guys act like I’m completely oblivious, but I’m not.”

The hum of sweet voice suddenly cuts off. Gordon barely has time to blink before it’s replaced with a hoarse, incredulous cackle, the kind that he only rarely hears, even living with the guy. He jerks his head round to find Benrey staring directly at him, sharp teeth flashing as he sucks in a breath to laugh again.

“What??” Gordon demands, the heat of his embarrassment and confusion easily flipping towards anger.

...

“Must we… really. Discuss this at — hhh — the dinner. Table?” the G-Man finally interrupts, gliding from the open plan kitchen into the dining room and setting down a basket of oven-fresh rolls with an exasperated thump. For a moment the weird air breaks; Gordon seizes on it, never more grateful for the G-Man’s disarming presence.

“I agree with Mr. Coolatta,” Gordon says quickly. “Let’s just — here, Joshie, why don’t you finish up your plate? You’ve still got these, um. These… white carrots? Left to eat.”

“That. Is a turnip… Mr. Freeman,” the G-Man says, disapproval frosting the air between them.

On Joshie’s other side, Benrey carefully spears one of the turnips with a fork, bringing it to his nose to sniff. It must pass muster, because he puts it in his mouth, chewing slowly — and then makes a noise of interest and spears another.

Joshua, seeing this, immediately picks up his fork and goes for one of the turnips as well. Gordon blinks and looks with renewed interest at his own plate; maybe he ought to try one as well.

and... that's it, sorry! onto better things etc. hope u enjoyed this behind the scenes peek, & thanks for reading! :)

#hlvrai #hlvrbtaiisa #saint writes #gordos feetman #nothing against head&shoulders. or people who interpret him as hot #i love to see pictures of pretty people and i enjoy writing from benrey's perspective which comes w some Strong feelings about gord so.#like i get it u kno

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calehenituseappreciation · 3 years

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Ive seen a lot of Dream (and usually Techno and Phil too) as gods au (i have one too dw) but all of you are sleeping on the funniest option.

Tommy is the god.

Tommy.

hes the only one in that galaxy (other than drista ofc)

Just imagine how fucking funny it is like

it would be so fucking hilarious

and tommy just doesnt tell them

so techno is just there making all these blood god jokes and jokingly telling tommy to serve him and tommys just laughing

imagine a god in the form of a chaotic 16 year old racoon gremlin just walts into your land commits arson and gets banned, only to come back with another person who he helps start a nation for drugs?

imagine how fucking funny it is

just

imagine tubbo banning a literal god from his lands and he just doesnt come back? he just plays by the rules? then goes and like sits in the corner all sad because some humans/dreamons told him to leave

ranboo, just joining the server: hi- a chaotic gremlin god: wanna commit arson with me? ranboo, just trying to vibe and maybe not disturb this god: sure

Phil and Ranboo recongnize Tommy as a god on sight.

Everyone else just refuses to believe it. hes Tommy. Tommyinnit. hes just weird lol

And Drista being a fucking chaotic blood god?

drista is open about her godhood and does not hesitate to spawn blocks

Drista finds Dream and decides she likes this small human, and dream just has to deal with it lmao.

drista and tommy are both born at the same time.

Tommy is a god of music, chaos, war and theivery (the last one bc he is a BITCH)

Drista is the blood god, chaos, deception, and theatre

okay but imagine the sbi interactions... like ig in this au tommy joins at like 12/13 years of age (in their minds) so he doesnt really grow much

and like tommy, a literal god, just claiming phil as his father???

phil, in his house making eggs, assuming one of his sons woke up and came to the kitchen, not looking: hey son tommy, from their couch, already deciding hes phils son now: whats up dad? phil: looks up at tommy who are you tommy: idk dad, who am i phil: *stares at tommy for a second* eh i made extra eggs you can stay

ASJIDGASUIOG IMAGINE TOMMY TELLING THEM HES A GOD BUT THEY THINK HES JOKING AND IGNORE HIM

everyone on the server: tommy is the youngest! tommy, as old as the universe: no im not!!!! im not a child!!!! he doesnt pout because pouting is for children and hes not a child but hes pouting tubbo: lol im older than you by a month tommy dont try to hide it tommy: im not a child!!!! techno: laughs

tommy doesn't try to hide that hes a god just its tommy

thats all the evedince anyone needs to think tommy isnt a god or powerful its like mcc hes good but only when he doesnt throw for content

quackity: sees drista written in bedrock lmao drista visited? tommy: yeah! i wrote that for her! quackity: snorts yeahhhh sureee tommy

imagine like how fucking funny it is jsut like

a fucking chaotic god breaks into your house androbs you makes a room under your house and decides to live in your floorboards

imagine dream like trying to manipulate tommy, and tommy a fucking anchient diety immeditly recongnizes what hes doing

but decides to play along for the angst and giggles and then actually gets mad when no one fucking cares for his theatrics

tommy, storming off to technos base to rob and build under: >:///// cant believe none of them acknoledged my deppression

i love that tommy stills robs everyone, he doesnt need to he can spawn in anything he wants

he just does it for the sport of robbery

JAKOGFSDOH

THE HOLY LAND

dream: im god actually tommy: thats so fucking funny lets make a cult about that :) dream: see! look! im god! and jesus! tommy: wheezing

imagine tommy getting stressed and letting go of his mortal form

Tommy, his human form peeling away, showing his actual form a bit: WH̸͘A͠T̷ ̶̢T͞H͢E ̡͘F̴̵͘Ù̧C͜K҉ ̶T͘͜͞E͟CHǸ͏Ǫ Techno: HAH?

tommy just saw tubbo and got emotionally attached

Tommy, a literal god: hello Tubbo: oh hi do you like my pet bee? Tommy: you’re mine now Tubbo: im okay with this

tommy, a bored god: gives techno shapeshifting powers techno, not even caring: changes into more human to pig-ishg forms as he wishes this is my life now ig

phil lets tommy do fuck all in exile bc he knows hes a god hes fine

phil: IDC IF YOURE A GOD! YOU WILL DO THE DISHES NOW YOUNG MAN! tommy: grumbles but does them

phil is the only one who can control tommy

god... tommy... with star freckles... on his human form... (as well as his god one)

tommy: f̷͛͠a̵̋t̵̒̑h̸̚e̶̓͝r̸͊ ̸̐̒i̴ ̸̅̿d̷̉͆o̵͂͋ ̵̛̆ñ̸̾ő̶́t̸̎́ w̶͆͘i̴͠s̵̓̈́h̸͗́ ̵̯͗f̶͋́ő̴͑r̷̐̌ ̶͝é̵̽g̸͊͂g̵̒s̷͂̃ phil: idc, eat your goddamn eggs tommy: pouts

tommy, despite being able to get supplies himself by fucking spawning them in: hey tubbo? we need supplies

In this au ig like if a god claims you you get a mark on your skin showing that. Drista’s would be like a green crown, Tommys would be a red and white disk (white as the outer ring and red as the center) (its different enough that if you don’t realise tommy is a god you wouldnt realise whos it is) (schlatt is the only one who never had one which shoulda been a sign dude :/)

Dream has two from the beginning, everyone else has only one, well until they meet drista. (sbi have had one since they met tommy, though they dont remember the first time they met tommy)

wait what if tommy like found them all as children one by one and later kinda pulled some strings to get them all in one kingdom. (he still joined sbi through forcing phil to adopt him)

OKAY BUT IMAGINE IF TOMMY MET TECHNO WHEN TECHNO WAS YOUNG ENOUGH TO NOT REMEMBER

tommy would hang out with baby techno and tell him stories

once he told him the story of a man named thesus

another time he told him the story of a blood god

like for example tommys first time meeting techno would be like

(for context techno lived in a shitty village and was an orphan and it was kinda a dog eat dog place, he learned how to be strong because of it)(he was young enough that he doesn’t remember this well, just like learning about the blood god and someone giving him gold)

baby techno: sighs tommy, appearing out of nowhere: oh heyyy whyre you sad? techno: jumps turning around with a knife up ready for a fight who are you tommy: im tommy! :) techno: what do you want from me! you dont scare me! tommy: whats your name! techno: i have a knife! i'll use it! tommy: of course, thats a given, but its rude not to tell people your name techno, confused: t-technoblade? tommy: smiles thats a nice name techno: so. tommy: hm? techno: why're you here tommy: i don't have a reason. im just a traveller! techno: then why hole to this terrible village! theres nothing nice here! everyone is terrible and so are you! tommy: hmmmm i dont agree techno: what are you? a child? i thought adults were supposed to know that everyone is mean tommy: mmhmm looks at the bruise on technos face where'd you get that? techno: fight. i won. i'll win against you too! so don't try anything. tommy: of course. i would never win in a fight against a blood god techno, putting down his knife a bit, stars in his eyes: blood god? tommy: grins blood. god. i think she'd like you. techno, muttering: maybe i can give the blood god some of your blood tommy: laughs yeah, she'd defenitly find you intresting tommy: here tosses techno a golden crown at techno, he spawned it in in the moment techno: whats this? tommy: a crown, thought it suit you screams in the distance tommy: huh. i need to go. have fun lil piglin. ruffles technos hair before running off towards the screaming unbeknownst to the pig the blood god was actually the one waiting for the god he met. techno: stares at the crown

Techno found a pouch of gold in his ‘house’ later that day. he didnt know who left it but it helped him get food for that night. (he kept the crown)

okay but imagine tommy not taking the war seriously at all, and only seeing it as a squabble between mortals, Like toddlers fighting

dream: SURENDER BY TOMMOROW OR WE'LL DECLARE WAR! wilbur: FUCK YOU WE'LL NEVER SURENDER AND JOIN YOUR SMP! Tommy: how cute

tommy doesnt realise that theyre serious until wilbur dies

tommy would usually go apeshit against anyone who dares messes with his humans, but what is he supposed to do when his humans are fighting Eachother?

wilbur: fucking goes insane and dies tommy: hey- hey can you guys let me talk to wil for a sec? everyone else leaves tommy, unsually somber: sorry i didnt help you i forgot how easily breakable mortals are tommy: this time you wont die, and i'll make it so that you dont break again, okay? tommy: brings wilburs soul out of its body and enters his mindscape ghostbur: wakes up what- where am i? tommy: hi there ghostbur: who are you tommy: i go by a lot of names all, one, you, the world, the universe, god, but you can just call me tommy ghostbur: oh okay. who am i? tommy: you're name was wilbur soot. you were the son of philza minecraft and brother to Technoblade, Tubbo and myself. ghostbur: was? tommy: well you see, you died. ghostbur: oh... well what am i then? tommy: a ghost! well actually its your choice. would you like to continue your existance or fade away with your body? ghostbur: i dont want to fade away! tommy: smiles thats what i thought you'd say stretches his hand to wilbur ghostbur: grabs tommy hand tommy: lets go home

ghostbur doesnt remember that though

he only remembers the good

tommy wont let him remember the bad, what if he breaks again? mortals are so fragile

phil realises what tommy did as soon as he sees ghostbur

drista, painting tommys nails (there both in god form btw) (after wilburs death btw): tommy shouldn't you of all gods realise how fragile they are? tommy: i know just... forgot drista: sighs and nods i get what you mean, especially with the ones we found... they act a lot like gods sometimes i forgot they arent tommy: ikr? wait- drista here gets drista's hair out of her face you were gonna get it on my nails, anyways, don't judge me. we all know if dream died you would turn him into a ghost too drista: smirks not if you do it first, we all know you would tommy: you say that as if you wouldn't fight me to do it first drista: .... tommy: ... drista: both of us when he dies? tommy: nods tommy: anyways my turn to do your nails

or like tommy with ghostbur like

ghostbur: i don't like this :( tommy, a worried brother and god: whats wrong? ghostbur: everyone is mad at me and i d-dont know why- why are they mad at me tommy: theyre mad at something alivebur did ghostbur: b-but im not alivebur sniffs it hurts. i dont like it. tommy: spawns in some blue here ghostbur: whats that? tommy: its some blue! it'll help you not hurt anymore! ghostbur: how does it work? tommy: see how its blue? ghostbur: nods tommy: well its blue because it sucks up all the bad feelings! it'll help ghostbur: !!!!! ghostbur: presses the blue into his chest ghostbur: !!!!its working!!!! :D tommy: smiles good

wilbur fucking died and tommy went from annoying little brother to caring older brother

tommy just wants to help his brother :) though he doesnt realise that not letting ghostbur remember bad memories isnt good

*at logsted shire btw* ghostbur: who are you? tommy, chuckling: did you forget me already ghostbur? ghostbur: i didnt forget you! i think! you're tommy! i just... you're different tommy, looks over at ghostbur: different how? ghostbur: you're not normal are you? tommy: grins whaaaaat? you think im weirdddd? how heartbreaking... my own brother thinks im weird, this is terrible ghostbur: giggles tommy: but really, don't worry about it bur. ghostbur: you sure? tommy: yeah, dont worry about me ghostbur: smiles okay! do you want some blue anyways? tommy: giggles sure! ghostbur: grins

ghostbur isnt worried about tommy

he knows hes strong

phil having to tell tommy that he cant just not let wilbur remember the bad memories

and tommys like "what if he breaks again!" and phil hugs him and tells him to at least ask ghostbur if he wants to remember and tommys like ‘fine’

tommy: hey bur? ghostbur: yeah? tommy: do you like you're memories? ghostbur: i mean, yeah its hard not to when you only remember the good tommy, quietly: would you want to remember the bad? ghostbur: w-what brought this question on tommy: answer the question ghostbur: no- alivebur was badi shouldn't want to- tommy: but what do you want bur? wilbur, silent for a moment: yeah- yeah i do. not that i like the bad memories! they hurt... but i wish i could remember tommy: ... ghostbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? ghostbur, with tears in his eyes: do you think they'd be less mad at me if i could remember, maybe then i could repair my relationships, what the hell am i supposed to do when i dont even remember hurting them? tommy: what if they dont? what if you break again? ghostbur, saltily: we'll maybe i'll be able at least be able to say i know why everyone hates me tommy: i know how to get all of your memories back ghostbur, looks towards tommy in shock: you do??? tommy: nods ghostbur, voice wavering: for how long tommy: since the beginning ghostbur: and you didnt tell me tommy: i did what i thought was best. i just didnt want you to hurt anymore. ghostbur, angrily: WELL THAT CLEARLY WORKED DIDNT IT? tommy: sorry wilbur, sometimes i forget how to handle humans ghostbur: what- tommy: sighs and taps ghostbur on the forehead and ghostbur does the ghost equivilent of passing out tommy: wont hide any memories this time

ghostbur doesnt wake up, instead wilbur wakes up weither thats good or bad we'll see

wilbur, waking up with all his memories: HOLY SHIT TOMMY WASN'T KIDDING phil, who was reading beside the bed tommy placed wilbur into, which was in technos house. yes he broke into technos house with a passed out wilbur. move on.: hm? wilbur: holy shit phil: huh? yeah. wilbur: wait you knew? phil: yeah i recongnized him as soon as i saw him about 5 years ago now? wilbur: excuse me while i freak out because my little brother is an actual god

it really hits wilbur that tommy is a god later

wilbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? wilbur: how fucking old are you? tommy: snorts of course thats the first thing you ask wilbur: well? tommy: i dont really know the exact years since years are kind of a human thing that were invented recently wilbur: they were invented thousands of years ago- tommy: but it was around the beginning of this galaxy wilbur, softly: what the fuck

tommy telling wilbur stories about different heros and villains and different humans he met during his life.

Adsjbffsg what if Tommy made himself blonde and blue eyed and white bc thats hyow the first human he met looked like asjfhsd

and just didnt change that, despite meeting new humans, its just his defult settings.

he would totally do this tho im crying.

drista just based her human form off dream because she is his sister now. he must deal with this. trying disowning me when i look like you BITCH.

thats my take anyways later might continue this

#tommyinnit #dsmp #dream smp #drista #god au #technoblade #wilbur soot #ghostbur #dreamwastaken #tubbo #philza minecraft #long post #just needed to say this

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