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satansphatass · 3 years

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Just like old times - Platonic Tommy x Tubbo

Word count: 1800

Trigger warnings: idk maybe homelessness?

Angst/platonic/fluff

Summary: Tubbo comes to see Tommy in exile.

***

It had been too long since Tubbo had seen his best friend, he still felt bad for exiling him but he had to do what was right for his country. It had been rough the first couple of days, he caught himself turning to tell his right hand man about the animals that he had seen, or a joke that someone had told him, only to be met with silence. It was the hardest decision he had ever made - but it was the right choice, or so he hoped.

He was excited, they would be able to listen to their discs and talk, he could tell Tommy all about his new projects!

He hadn't seen Tommy's new house yet so he didn't really know where he was going but he followed the compass that Wilbur had gifted him: it was his most prized possession, it was in his hand at all times - he couldn't be seen without it. He focused on rowing his little wooden boat, going faster and faster, he couldn't wait to see his best friend - it would be just like old times.

He could see the sillhouette of an island in the distance infront of the beautiful setting sun. He glanced down at his compass, it was pointing in the direction of the island - this must be where Tommy lived!

***

Tommy threw his armour down into the pit, the armour he had worked so hard for, had almost died for - gone. The explosion bought him back to the present, he regretfully looked down into the pit; it had definitely been blown to pieces. The hole was covered in dirt and Tommy looked Dream in his mask eyes.

"Well Tommy, I have errands to run - I'll leave you to it, just follow the rules and nobody will get hurt."

Tommy nodded in understanding having heard this little speech almost everyday since his exile. What he didn't understand was why Dream - his friend, had to leave so soon.

"Can't you stay?" He pleaded "I'm so fucking bored!"

"I've told you Tommy," Dream insisted "I'm busy."

He knew not to disagree, it had caused too many arguments.

He watched as Dream walked off into the distance: going to do god knows what. He walked morosely back to ~tnret~ and pulled out his compass, all he wanted was to see Tubbo - just like old times.

***

Tubbo ran up the shore, only stopping to straighten his tie. He didn't once stop to wonder if Tommy even wanted to see him. He saw a tent on the bank and assumed that was where he lived - it was a bit shabby but he was sure that that was just a temporary home from when he first arrived.

He skipped up to it and opened the flap to see a disheveled looking Tommy laying on his bed, staring up at the top of the tent.

He paused.

"Tommy?"

"Go away," he said "I know you're just in my head - Tubbo doesn't want to see me."

Tubbo stared at him, was that really what Tommy thought? Had he gone insane?

"No big man! I'm right here!"

He just rolled onto his side, ignoring the president. Tubbo pushed his legs to the side and sat on the bed, he placed a hand on his back - feeling him tense up under his touch.

"Is that really you?"

"Yeah man - It's me!"

Tommy looked up at him through blurred eyes, and walked off. Tubbo sat there in confusion, was he not happy to see him? He jumped up and followed the taller boy, he was sat on the beach looking longingly into the water.

"What's your deal dude? I thought you would like to see me."

Tommy looked up with an exasperated look on his face,

"You exiled me!"

"It was best for the country!"

"I thought we were friends." he said in a broken voice.

Tubbo sat down next to him, "We are, Your my best pal!"

He pulled him in for a hug, expecting resistance as usual but he slumped right into him. He was cold to the touch and his skin had a pinkish tone to it.

"Why don't we get somewhere warm?"

Tommy nodded and accepted his hand - following him to Logsteadshire. He entered the little blue house that Wilbur had built and sat down at his table, Tubbo sitting opposite him. He looked up to see Tubbo giving him a concerned look.

"Are you okay man? You're looking kinda rough."

"I'm fine." he snapped.

Tubbo gave him a proper look down, his hair was all grown out and covered in filth. His eyes had lost their blue vibrancy and had dark purple bags under them, his clothes were all ripped and filthy. His shoes had floppy soles and his cheeks were sunken in.

"No, you're not. Let's get you fixed up."

He opened up his bag and pulled out his knife ANd FuCKinG sTabBEd HiM jk, he tugged at strands of Tommy's hair and chopped some of the matted parts off, hoping to tidy it up a bit. He then wiped some of the muck off of his face and attempted to stitch up the rips in his clothes - he always carried a needle and thread, it was in his little emergency bag that he carried everywhere - 'you never know what you might need!' he constantly argued.

By the time he was finished, he did look a little better but still not the Tommy he knew. The Tommy he knew had fluffy blond hair that he loved to place flowers in. The Tommy he knew had bright blue eyes that shone in the dark. The Tommy he knew was always happy.

It was starting to get slightly darker now and he could see some mobs off in the distance, just past the barrier of torches that kept them out. He adjusted his sword, just incase.

"Why don't you put on your armour Tommy? There might be some skeletons hidden in the forest, just waiting for someone."

"Don't be so paranoid all the time."

"I'm not! I just don't want you to get hurt!"

This struck something deep in Tommy, if he didn't want him to get hurt then why did he exile him? Why did he send him away with nothing but a few pieces of 'blue'? Why did nobody come to check on him?

The only person who cared was Dream.

“I don’t have any armour.” he said shortly.

"Why not? You've been here for ages now!"

Ages?! How did he not know how long they had been apart? Had he not been counting? Tommy had been marking down the days - the days he spent all alone. It had been 2 months 3 weeks and 5 days. Almost 3 months since he had seen his best friend. He had been counting down the days, he thought that Tubbo would come to see him every week! every day! That's what best friends did, wasn't it? What could be more important than him?

He swallowed his questions and insecurities.

"Dream takes it."

"Why? He has his own - what does he need it for?!"

"He blows it up, so I can't try anything."

Tubbo stared at him astonished.

"That's not right Tommy, I asked him to escort you and that's it! He shouldn't be doing all- all that!"

"It's fine Tubbo," he insisted "Dream's my friend."

"No he's not! He- he's manipulating you!"

Of course he wasn't, Dream was his friend. He had helped him with everything! He owed it all to Dream. He had helped organise the beach party - the beach party that only he had showed up to. He had even helped him and Ghostbur build Logsteadshire!

Dream wasn't manipulative, was he?

"Dream's my friend." He repeated weakly.

"Can't you see Tommy? That's not what a friend does! I've never done that!"

That was true, Tubbo had never taken his stuff. But had he been with him during the hardest time of his life?

No, instead he had exiled him from his home.

"Then why didn't you come to see me?"

He couldn't really answer that question, why hadn't he? Sure, he had been busy with L'manburg - but there were plenty of other people that could've stepped in for him. He had been laughing and having a good time while Tommy was stuck alone, alone with Dream.

He felt rotten.

"I'm sorry man... I was- busy."

"Busy with what?"

He paused, "L'manburg."

"Oh. I see."

The disappointment in his voice was worse than if he had been angry. He felt like he had done something wrong. He hadn't, had he?

It was for L'manburg.

They stayed in silence for a bit longer, the silence that they used to experience without it being awkward.

He felt as if he barely knew the blond boy next to him.

"What do you want to do?" He asked hesitantly.

Tommy paused and suddenly pulled out a disc - chirp, Tubbo's favourite.

"We can listen to it, just like old times!"

Seeing the sudden glow on Tommy's filthy face made him incapable of saying no - he just wanted his best friend back, happy, outgoing and blunt. None of this closed off and quiet bullshit.

He jumped up and ran off outside. Tubbo quickly followed in pursuit, giggling in excitement.

He found Tommy sat at the back of his beat-up tent next to a jukebox. He quickly flopped to the floor - his formal jacket getting a bit muddy.

He dropped the black and red disc into the box and waited for the music to start up. The upbeat tune suddenly filled his ears - he closed his eyes and reminisced over all times they had sat watching the sunset together on that little bench by L'manburg.

He slowly opened his eyes to see the sunset slowly dipping past the horizon, his mouth quirked up in a smile.

It was just like old times.

#tommyinnit #tommy and tubbo #tubbo myct #tubbo #tubbolive #mcytumblr #tommy mcyt

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directionlessbuthappy · 6 years

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Pagan (Epilogue)

Surprise! pandainfinitely mentioned to me a while ago that it would’ve been cool to see some reactions to Ivar surviving in my last part of Pagan. So I made that sprinkled in with a special moment. Cheers! xo

Warnings: blood, graphic depiction of piercings, intimacy/fluff at the end <3

Droplets of rain leak through a small crack in the roof of the Great Hall. It'll be patched up before nightfall. You stir what appears to be cloudy, milky water over the hearthfire, grinning while you replay the morning of his return.

You'd traveled back to Kattegat without Ivar. Tradition stated only when a man returns to the village with his kill is he able to claim adulthood. Perhaps, though, tradition was already broken. You had already considered what you'd done; it made you smile. The gods wanted it to happen the way it did. Whether Ivar was tracking the beast, or whether you'd attracted the beast near and Ivar found you, it did not matter. It did not matter how strong he was or if his strength he needed to kill the lynx was wrought from the sight of you nearing your death... What mattered is the gods had saved him. The totems had let him live. Long ago when you left home, you knew you'd never be welcome back. Becoming an outsider meant death. So the judgement you feared could come from nowhere so long as you never went home. You savored that idea...being the first of your people ever to leave the sanctuary of home. Being the first to bring your customs to a foreign land, a strange world. Convincing a warrior to bear the mark of your people through his stubborn will, through your teachings...who were you to be shamed for sharing the gods' wild spirits?

When you returned, storming through the Great Hall, Ubbe and Hvitserk were waiting. They refused to speak to you as you went to Ivar's room. The queen was conveniently not present for your return. You didn’t mind, moreso, you wanted to rest. But your things were gone.

"Ubbe!" you shrieked, trudging back to the main hall. "Where are my things? What did you do?"

"We assumed you would be leaving," he spit at you, crossing his legs on the table. "Perhaps you fled when you realized my brother was dead."

Your nostrils flared; you wouldn't tell him. Not yet. Not until you wanted him to choke on his words.

"I do not run."

Ubbe rolled his eyes. Hvitserk finally spoke up.

"Did you at least find him?"

You snorted at him, refusing to answer as you sat down.

"Haven't you asked a seer?"

Ubbe frowns at you. "This is a game to you, isn't it? Funny that you've sent our baby brother to die? Did you spend too much time in his bed and think you had to rid yourself of him?"

You rolled up the sleeve of your concealed arm, showing Hvitserk the black ink twirling around your forearm. A viper with a diamond shaped head opened its jaws to your hand.

"What is that?" Ubbe asked cautiously.

"Hel."

The brothers both glance at your arm. Maybe its just them, but that snake looks like its coiling tighter and tighter into itself. Like its waiting to strike.

"She has showed me how I die. And it is not by you, or your brothers, Ubbe." You shoved your sleeve down, casting Hvitserk a glance while he sat back in disappointment. "Stop asking me dumb questions and act like you believe in your little brother, for once."

"Is that another one of your strange traditions?" Hvitserk asked. He wasn't an interested in an argument like Ubbe was. He never was; he was simpler than that. More kind too.

"Yes," you answered simply. Hvitserk smiled slightly, unsettled by your tattoo that was now concealed. For a second, he kind of understood why you kept that arm covered. It was the same reason people turn away statues at night...their stares can be...

The door to the Great Hall banged against the wall. In came Ivar, dragging a lump of fur that trailed blood across the wooden boards. Ubbe and Hvitserk didn't jump up right away; they were more in shock than they were happy. "Did you think I would come back empty handed?" Ivar mocked them. He knew what they thought...

"Ivar!" Hvitserk cheered. Aslaug emerged from her bedroom with wide eyes. She glared at you for a moment but she didn't care much to look at you; it was her son she was more enthralled with. She embraced him quickly, helping him into his chair.

"The gods have protected you," Aslaug sobbed.

"The gods, the wild...they all favor me, mother. You know this."

Aslaug stopped crying a moment to give a guilty expression. She hadn't believed in her son's return; Ivar knew this too. At least she had the sense to look grateful for his return, and had the sense to be sober for it. Hvitserk gave Ivar a loving headlock. He was proud of his little brother. He had his own doubts, but he was simply glad Ivar was home again.

"You did that?" Ubbe asked, gesturing to the body of the lynx. You had a feeling Ubbe was looking at you; there was a burning sensation along the back of your neck.

"It wasn't the birds or the butterflies, Ubbe. Of course I did. What kind of stupid question is that?”

You snapped out of it and took the iron pot off the fire. Taking a bit of cloth, you gently poured the water through it. The cloth caught the bones you were boiling. Taking a piece of still very hot bone piece, you brought it to your grindstone and swiped it across. It only took a few goes before you set the bone in a pot of cold, slushy water. The material hardened under your fingerpads, the water so cold you were surprised you could still feel it. After the bone chilled, you pulled it out and took it to the soft light, checking for any holes with the firelight to help. No holes. A good needle.

With a deep sigh, you set the needle it your row. This was the last one. You took the row of four you'd made and let them dry, glancing up at Ivar in his chair. He sat in his father's seat whenever his mother wasn't around. The idea of looking through his father's eyes to see what he once saw filled him with pride and stroked his ego.

"You know, if you scream, your brothers will wake up."

"Isn't that usually what I tell you?" Ivar asked in return. You blushed, chuckling under your breath while you took the boiling water over to cool in a clean basin.

"What about your mother?"

"She is my mother. If I tell her to go to bed, she will."

You sighed. Things were very simple in Ivar's head.

"...would you want me to listen that way if I stayed here? In Kattegat, I mean."

Ivar had his elbow rested on the chair, rolling his tongue along his bottom lip. He shrugged, gesturing to your standing figure. The fire roared to the side of you. "Where else would you go little shieldmaiden?"

He grinned at you, lifting his chin slightly. Proudly. You walked over to him and his set his arms down flat against the chair. You could see the nervous look in his eye, hidden behind his blank someone annoyed expression he wore often. Pulling out the needles and the water basin, you climbed into his lap with your supplies on the table to the side. You ran your fingertips across his chest. It was smooth, far from flat...he growled at your initial touch, but softened as your hands traveled across his skin.

"You won't scream?" you ask. He smirked a bit, less cocky now but still pleasantly confident as far as you could see. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and sat back. You sighed, glancing at the rag you'd retrieved just in case...but you believed him. You cleaned his nipples with the boiled water from the basin; it was cool now, but not cold. Still, the air around you was cold enough to keep them perky. You chuckled a bit, teasing him.

"Don't be afraid."

"I am not," he replied angrily. You took your needle and your small metal you'd had fashioned for this; it was an interesting exchange with the native blacksmith here in Kattegat. But with enough gold he didn't ask. You held the needle close to his skin, holding your hand on both sides of his breastbones.

"Ready?"

With a grunted response, you took that as a yes and slid the bone through. Ivar jolted in his seat, gripping his chair so hard you could hear it creak. A groan from the back of his throat made you swallow painfully. You left the bone in and brought the metal close, piercing the fresh hole with the metal ring and gliding out your bone needle. The opening to the ring was small enough that the piercings wouldn't come out easily, but he'd still have to be careful. Ivar didn't jump for the placement of the metal, but he still held tight. You pierced the right one shortly after; this one bled a little, but you cleaned it up quickly. Ivar didn't flinch for the second one. He made hardly a move, but his hands still grew white along the knuckles. When they were finally placed and cleaned up, you gave his shoulders a light massage, letting his grip on the chair release.

"Relax, Ivar..."

He sighed with a loud growl. Coming to peace with pain was not difficult for him. You gave him a kiss once he finally hugged your hips in his hands. The slits in your dress showed off your thighs that lay to the sides of him; the space above your knee to your hip was covered in the portrait of a wolverine, blood covering its viscous muzzle. The Wolverine was the totem of Thor, a guardian and a great warrior comparable to the fighting spirit of such an relentless creature. Ivar never told you, but this one was his favorite... He ran a thumb across the teeth of the beast, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

"Tell me about the Wolverine."

#ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #ivar #hvitserk #ubbe #aslaug #kattegat #vikings #vikings imagine #ivar x reader #writings #pagan #im sleepy but wow i wrote something mostly safe for public reading can i have a cookie

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