#tommy!centric | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babygirl-diaz · 9 days

Text

Lookin' Good Good Looking

Kinda inspired by Ryan's new IG story

***

Eddie would deny if ever asked, but he liked to dress up and make himself look good. He especially loved to make himself look good for his boyfriends. Now that they had their daughter, Eddie temporarily took time away from firefighting to work at dispatch, he had a lot more time on hand. So he put that time to good use by learning new recipes for his boyfriends and son and learning new ways to make himself look good. Tonight was one of those rare nights when Chris was away at his friend's place and both Tommy and Buck were going to be at home since their shifts ended early. So the three of them decided to make a date night out of it.

After getting off work, Eddie picked Lily up from daycare and took her home. He let her nap while getting everything ready for dinner.

It was a movie and dinner in the backyard kinda night. The three of them bought a house with a big backyard with the sole purpose of holding movie nights in the back with their friends, but tonight it was just the three of them.

Dinner was all movie theater themed food. He got everything ready for the build-your-own nachos bar, as well as the mini sliders and hot dogs. By the time he finished snacks and dessert, Lily was awake. He brought her to the kitchen and fed her some mashed veggies which she always ate with little fuss.

"You like that huh?" Eddie cooed to the 6-month-old and leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

Lily made gurgled noises in return, making Eddie laugh.

"After this, you're gonna help Daddy pick out his clothes for tonight."

Lily giggled at that and clapped her hands together.

"You're so cute," Eddie said in awe and picked her up from her high chair. He took her to the sink and had her wash her hands and face before taking her to his room, where had one of her playpens. He put her in it and then started looking for what to wear. He found a white shirt with small flowers on it, picked up a pair of blue chinos, and showed it to Lily. "What do you think, Lily?"

He didn't get any reaction from her and she instead just blinked up at him with her big brown eyes.

"Yeah, I didn't think so either." Eddie frowned at the clothes in his hands like they had offended him personally. He threw them aside and picked up the next pair.

After seven tries, he finally got a reaction from Lily when he picked out a light pink shirt and paired it with white pants. This was a new set he had just bought but never worn because he wasn't sure he could pull it off.

But Lily seemed to love it as she made happy noises and clapped her hands together again.

"I like this too, but I don't know if I can pull it off," Eddie told her.

Lily just tilted her head to the side and blinked at him.

"You're right, I should try it, anyway."

After that, Eddie left to take a shower, letting Lily continue to play in her playpen.

After showering, he got ready and looked at himself in the mirror, letting out a deep breath. He looked good if he said so himself. The pink brought out the color in his cheeks and the tight white pants accentuated his thighs and even his ass when he turned to look at it.

Eddie put all the products in his hair and spiked it but he didn't like how it looked so after several tries, he finally just put it back like he usually did and left it at that.

"What do you think, Lily?" He asked his daughter who just giggled in return.

"I'll take that as a good sign," Eddie replied and picked her up.

He put sunglasses and a hat on her and took her to the backyard in her stroller where he set everything for movie night. Once the chairs were lined up and the projector was set, Eddie sat down on the chair with Lily and looked up at the sky as the day started changing to night.

He bounced Lily in his lap and cooed to her, making her cheer happily in return.

When Eddie looked at his watch, he realized it was close to 8 and Buck and Tommy still weren't home. He sent them both a text and got a quick reply from Buck telling him they were still on a call. Tommy, however, did not reply. Eddie tried not to let that concern him as he figured Tommy was probably flying.

Eddie's stomach growled at some point but he ignored it and instead played with his daughter. He doesn't know when, but sleep soon took over him and he fell asleep on the chair with Lily protectively held against his chest.

"Eddie."

Eddie heard his name being called and slowly opened his eyes. Buck's face came into view and Eddie couldn't help but smile softly, "Hey."

"Hey," Buck replied stroking the back of Eddie's cheek with his hand. "Looks like you and Lily took a nice long nap."

Eddie felt something heavy on his chest and looked down to see Lily fast asleep. "What time is it?"

"10," Buck replied.

"Sorry, we got home late."

Eddie looked over to his other side and saw Tommy giving him a remorseful smile.

"It's okay." Eddie sat up slowly, making sure not to wake Lily up. "I'll put her to bed."

"I got it," Buck offered and took Lily from him.

Once Buck left, Tommy squeezed into the seat with Eddie, making Eddie chuckle as the lounge chair wasn't big enough for two men their size. Tommy pulled Eddie into his lap and kissed him. "You look beautiful," he told him.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked as he got up and straddled Tommy's lap instead.

"Mhmm," Tommy hummed, slipping his hands inside Eddie's shirt. "You made yourself look pretty for us?"

"I made myself look pretty for me," Eddie replied, smirking. "And maybe you two too."

"Feeling a little left out here, fellas," Buck said coming over to them and pulling another chair close. "Damn, you look really nice by the way, babygirl."

Eddie blushed at that. "Thank you," he said.

"That's what I said," Tommy added. "I feel worse now for coming home late."

Eddie shook his head, "Hey, don't be. Work is important."

"Not as important as you," Buck replied. "Either one of you or our family."

"I agree," Tommy replied and kissed Eddie before leaning in to kiss Buck as well.

Eddie also kissed Buck before laying his head down on Tommy's chest and reaching out to take Buck's hand. "So do we still wanna do movie night?" He asked them.

"Hell yeah, we do," Buck replied. "We promised each other a movie and dinner date and that's what we're going to do. Besides, I think I saw nacho toppings in the kitchen."

"And I saw some chocolate strawberries in the freezer," Tommy told him, smirking.

"Were you two snooping?" Eddie playfully narrowed his eyes at them.

"Of course we were," Buck replied and kissed the tip of Eddie's nose.

"Thanks for doing this, Eddie," Tommy told him and brought Eddie’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles.

Eddie chuckled and tried hard not to blush again but failed.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buddie #bucktommy #teddie #bucktommyeddie #911 abc #fanfiction #drabble #eddie centric

37 notes · View notes

anarchy-and-piglins · 6 months

Text

The 'Technoblade & Tommyinnit' relationship tag on AO3 is a hostile place for a bedrockbros bitch who does not enjoy Tommy angst or caretaker Techno (<- I am that bitch)

#like with emduo and twinduo i feel like there's a better 50/50 balance #so it's relatively easy to find fics with hurt!Techno or where he's the proper focus and in character and not just 'protective big brother'#but the bedrockbros tag is really just the 'tommy-centric angst with OOC Techno' tag half the time

72 notes · View notes

wrath-beyond-reckoning · 7 months

Text

Fan Fiction Rec / Tracking

Chance Encounters (are what keep us going) by Viokaea

Dream SMP - Technoblade-Centric - Space Fic

Summary:

Techno slammed his fists against the transparent wall of his prison, trying his best to break it down. His captors backed up, whistling anxiously to each other. He gave the barrier another loud crack, delightedly watching as they scrambled away in abject terror. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned around to meet the eyes of two other prisoners that had been thrown into his cell. He froze. Right. There were now aliens in his cell. And he probably just scared the hell out of them. Or: Humans are a dangerous race feared by all on an intergalactic scale. Techno, a human ex-soldier that was abducted by aliens 18 months ago, is biding his time in captivity. This changes when two young aliens are sent into his cell to die.

Published: 2023-06-01 Completed:2023-08-01 Words: 70,785 Chapters: 13/13

Read: 2023-09-23

Notes: Really enjoyed this one lots of effort and lots of fun! The action scenes are enticing and well paced loved the descriptors used in this one

#dsmp #sbi fanfic #technoblade-centric #rec: tommy innit #rec: wilbur soot #rec: niki nihachu #rec: philza #rec: tubbo #rec: ranboo #fanfic rec #dark sbi #space fic #humans are space orcs #completed

81 notes · View notes

bonesandthebees · 11 months

Text

life is so hard I’m just a girl who wants to read about wilbur but every fic tagged wilbur soot centric is either 99% about tommy with like one tiny thing about wilbur or it’s my own fic

#this is an exaggeration obviously there are some great fics out there about wilbur not by me #but SO many fics tagged wilbur centric are just about Tommy like guys PLEASE #ramblings

85 notes · View notes

twentytworoses · 2 years

Text

COMMON TROPES IN SBI SUPERHERO/VILLAINS AU FICS THAT I ABSOLUTELY LOVE

The trope where Tommy is the sidekick to the Number One Hero, Dream, and they have a close-knitted bond, plus points if their relationship is unhealthily co-dependent. Reading Tommy struggle as he's torn between the loyalty for Dream or Wilbur and maintaining his duty as a hero never gets old.

Villain Siren Wilbur Soot is my favorite. I know it's been overdone in many, many fics—but having the power to brainwash people through voice and words just fits his character so much, it's like butter and bread, it just works perfectly.

The trope where Tommy is simply minding his own business but finds a wounded, passed out villain on the street— usually its Wilbur, sometimes its Techno— and going on a mental struggle on whether he should save them or call the cops. Bonus points if Tommy has healing powers.

Where Las Nevadas is a neutral ground away from normal laws; your status as vigilante, superhero or villain doesn't matter, Quackity is in charge once you step foot to his domain.

CLASSIC SUPER POWER FIGHTS. VILLAINS AND HEROES DUKING IT OUT.

The dramatic secret identity reveal. Either it's anticlimactic and sort of meh or holy fuck, i need a breather. The latter I'd like to put in example that scene in Everything Costs by AmberRunnel. If you read it, you guys know what I mean.

Where Tommy is an underage minimum wage worker and one of the SBI supervillain/heroes takes an interest on him. Later on the story, They'll persuade him into adoption— illegally, and maybe forcibly— and shower him with affection, Tommy's response to it would depend on how shitty his past and self-esteem are.

Tommy getting kidnapped. I don't need to explain this one lmao.

#im going to come clean and say i only read tommy-centric fics where phil/wil/tech are the villains #i dont know how common these are tbh #dsmp #mcyt #sleepy bois inc #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #superhero/villains au #sbi

514 notes · View notes

waddei · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER 12 of my arginnit fic is out!!

after odd calls from 'Wilbur' become part of his daily routine tommy begins to notice a decline in his Energy and memory, chalking it up to an illness he hadn't heard off he tries to go on with his day to day battling the exhaustion that washed over him for seemingly no reason.

when bodies start being found In his area the near supernatural lack of clues surrounding the murders has the city throwing into a paranoid state.still,he doesn't turn on the tv to find out more, the news making his stomach twist.

even after and he finds himself waking up with dirt on his shoes he doesnt think much of it

meanwhile Wilbur realizes that there might be more to tommys break than what he's advertising

#the fic is tommy centric btw this is just one of the wilbur chapters #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanart #fanfic fanart #<- i mean its my ifc but whatever #latenight phonecalls #dsmp fanfic #wadds art

101 notes · View notes

watermelonfrog2 · 3 months

Text

I want attention so fuck were doing this.

ATTENTION DSMP PEOPLE OR LIKE ANYONE WHO CARES. My fic got updated. go check it out :3

#dsmp #timetravel #mcyt #writing #c!tommy-centric #dsmpblr #fanfiction #my fics

10 notes · View notes

mysticalsoot · 1 year

Text

this is reality

sort of sbi au and autistic!wilbur centric fic

A/N; this took me like four days and it was simply bc I wanted to write autistic will stimming. like the whole concept was the last scene, I just got carried away with james and wilbur bestie moments

Summary; Wilbur Soot also known as Wil Gold is the lead of an up-and-coming indie rock band named Lovejoy. They've only released two EPs in 2021 and are preparing to release their next single Call Me What You Like, but Wilbur is concerned his contribution to the song is what will be their downfall.

OR; Wilbur is autistic, insecure, and anxious so he's surprised when the UK charts are released that maybe he makes good art that people love

TW; anxiety, panic, swearing and I think that's it

Characters; Wilbur, James, Ash, Tommy

Words; 5.4k

dedicated to; @loverboy-soot bc i sent him sneak peeks constantly and I have been meaning to finish and post this every day I've written on it

masterlist

my ao3

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

Wilbur had always dreamed of having his own band, people who loved music just as he did and put as much passion and care into the music they made.

He had that now. Joe, Mark, and Ash were the best friends and bandmates he could ask for. They were passionate and creative—they put their all into their art and their dedication was beginning to pay off. There was a manageable amount of non Dream SMP or MCYT Lovenjoyers, but they were getting recognized in mainstream media more often. They’d been on the radio a few times, and they’ve trended on youtube before and they appeared on at least two Spotify-curated playlists. They weren’t big but they were becoming less and less of a silly little indie band by the day.

And Wilbur knew their next single was their big break. It would jumpstart their career further into the industry, he just knew it. Or, well, he hoped it would. There was a gnawing at his brain and his heart that their new song wasn’t all that, that he was fooling himself by believing it was their best yet. The man couldn't get his hopes up, but he also couldn't really help himself in doing so. He loved it so much, he had poured his heart into the lyrics for years, the instrumentals and melodies for the past year—it was his baby. And Call Me What You Like was the song to make or break Lovejoy’s future.

It was a few days to premiering. Wilbur stood in his bedroom pacing back and forth, gnawing at the skin around his nails which nearly drew blood. He pulled his hands away when he began tasting copper.

He tried rocking back and forth on his feet, standing on his toes, lifting himself up and then dropping to stand on his heels. Back and forth, back and forth. Over and over.

That didn't help either.

He tried flapping his hands and pacing. Squeezing his eyes open and closed.

He did everything he could to ease the anxiety that ate him from the inside out.

He rubbed his eyes with the corner of his palms until stars shown in the black of his eyes and a stinging pain appeared with it.

He groans as he kicks the corner of his bed, hissing and reaching down to grab his foot when the pain shoots up from his stubbed toes to his brain where he registers the sensation.

A silent fuck is muttered under his breath.

"Jesus, fuck!" He yells into the void of his room and throws himself down into his desk chair. He quickly clicks on the discord icon. The usual starting pop-up appears and the wumpus logo spins on the window as it loads the program.

He selects the last dm he's opened and goes to type a message; to James.

WilburSoot 7:35 PM, Today

wanna come over?

The question was simple and open-ended and it didn't require an explanation from Wilbur as the reason was probably clear. But not entirely.

James started typing moments later, he wasn't even online when Wilbur initially messaged him, but the moment the message went through, James' name shown as online. He began typing shortly after.

James 7:37, Today

yea sure. you ok tho?

Wilbur hesitated over the keyboard, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplated an answer.

WilburSoot 7:38, Today

oh yeah, I'm fine man. just missed ya.

He hoped he could easily pass James' bullshit detectors, at least until he saw him face to face. It was easier to fib through a screen rather than in person. He didn't have great control over his facial expressions, he was terrible at hiding anything he felt and sometimes he wasn't even sure what he felt so expressing that was difficult. It's easier to lie anyways.

Wilbur sat in silence, opting to chew on his cuticles again as he patiently waited for a response. James began typing just before stopping again, he'd start and then stop over and over. This went on for quite a few moments and Wilbur grew more and more anxious. He wasn't sure why—James had already given his answer but watching as those three dots appeared and disappeared became just one more creature that ate at the flesh inside him.

James 7:40, Today

alright, I'll be over in 10

Wilbur sighed in relief, his hands dropping to his lap and his head hitting the back of his chair as he leans on it. He runs his hands down his face and he lets out a sound close to a laugh but it's more like a strained huff of air.

He uses his hands to push on his desk, his chair rolling backward and he stands up in a rush, hissing at the creaking sound the chair makes as it spins behind him.

I need to fix that, he notes, before hastily grabbing his phone off his bed and shuffling out of his bedroom. His overhead light was already turned off due to the horrendous sound it made. It was like a static clicking, unlike most lights and it was beyond painful. Part of him was quite thankful it was his apartment. That way he could have whatever lights he wanted off, off, and whichever ones he wanted on, on. It was a wonderful thing.

He found himself walking over to his sofa and carefully sitting on the far left side, pulling his legs to rest underneath him. He quickly unlocked his phone and began scrolling tiktok as he awaited James’ arrival.

It was what felt like much less than ten minutes later when there came a knock on wilbur’s flat door and he hopped up. Wilbur shuffled over to the door, quietly but quickly turning the door knob before opening the door to let James in.

“How are you, Wil?” The question catches Wilbur off guard and James stands in front of Wilbur, hands in his jeans pockets and eyes trained up on Wilbur.

The man shrugs, walking away from his friend but gesturing for the other man to join him on the sofa. He finds his previous spot, legs still tucked under himself. James joins him on the other side, shuffling his shoes off his feet before bringing his own legs to rest under him.

“Okay, Wilbur. Why did you ask me over?” James crosses his arms, a stern glare trained on Wilbur and he tries to meet his friend's eyes but panics and diverts his gaze on the wall behind him.

“As I said, I missed you.” He speaks plainly, doing his best to give a soft smile but seemingly failing given the breathy chuckle James gives in response.

“Hmm, like I believe that. I’m not gonna push but I know something more is going on.” James is flat with his delivery, but sincere nonetheless. Wilbur is, surprisingly, able to read the concern stitched into the expression James wears, his eyes soft as he gazes at his friend.

A comfortable silence falls upon the two and Wilbur leans his head against the back of the sofa, his own arms crossing over his chest.

“Mario Kart?” Wilbur’s question breaks the silence and James scoots off his spot on the sofa and hurries over to the tv stand, turning on Wilbur’s old Wii console and slipping in the old Mario Kart cd.

After the TV boots up, James walks back over to sit next to Wil, throwing him a Wii remote steering wheel. “I’m going to beat your ass, William.” The use of Wilbur's legal name earns a laugh from the anxious man and his friend huffs.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smiles, what he thinks is a genuine smile and he clicks through the various introduction screens. He lets James choose his character first—Wario, as always—before he chooses his own, which is always Mario. He likes it simple and predictable, Mario is just that.

The two play a game on the coconut mall map, Wilbur ahead of James—but not for long before his friend catches up to him, knocking him off course and taking his spot in first.

Wilbur grunts at his friend, using various power up's to gather momentum in order to steal his spot back. His attempts return to fruition and he yells in triumph when he passes the finish line, coming in first.

"Fucking told you!" Wilbur laughs in giddy, shaking his hands in pure joy, his eyes closed tightly and a smile wide as can be—one he knows is genuine.

"Jeez man, why are you so good at this game?" James puts his controller on the coffee table, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and resting them in front of him.

"I'm just that good." Wilbur's snarky remark earns a scoff from his friend and he rests his hands behind his head in triumph.

"You need to work on that ego of yours."

"I do *not* have an ego!" Wilbur counters, dropping his arms to cross against his chest and he exaggeratingly huffs.

"Oh like anyone would believe that!" James laughs, a soft, considerate laugh despite the joke thrown at his friend.

"Wow, such little faith." Wilbur smiles and lets a silence fall on the two, the only sound heard is James readjusting his spot on the couch, and a few sighs let out occasionally before going to scroll Twitter on his phone.

Wilbur fiddles with his hands, looking over at James before going to stand and pace again, he tries to be subtle about it, avoiding the attention of his friend. He tries all of his common coping stims, handshakes, bouncing on his feet, rolling on his feet, tapping his fingers, etc. Doing anything he can to cope with the anxiety that was deciding to reappear again. He keeps his eyes on the carpet below him, spinning on his heels to walk the other way when he gets too close to the wall.

James watches Wilbur, eyeing him and his pacing. Wilbur doesnt notice the eyes on him, and James is thankful for that as he sifts his mind for any reason for Wilbur’s current panicked state. He knows something is up and wrong but he’s sure he won’t get an answer out of the man no matter how hard he tries. He would love to be able to guess Wilbur’s reasoning for his panic, but he isn’t telepathic and he can barely understand his own reasoning, let alone another person’s reasoning. James hesitates, he opens his mouth to speak but shuts it closed a moment later. He averts his gaze back down to the phone in hand, mindlessly going through whatever fiery chaos that was his timeline.

He tries his best to keep his gaze off Wilbur, and it worked for the most part but it eventually got to the point his worry outweighed his desire to stay unnoticed. James watched as his friend continued pacing, tapping his fingers or shaking his hands. Wilbur was nervous but James couldn't pinpoint why.

He makes an attempt, "Wil, are you alright?"

Wilbur's head shoots up and his eyes dart to James focused on his forehead but giving the impression he's making eye contact. He's not.

Wilbur hesitates, going to say something when the words lodge themselves in his throat. He nods.

James goes to stand, walking to where Wilbur is frozen in place. He rests his hands on his friend's shoulders. "You can tell me, I know you're not."

"I'm- I'm fine." Wilbur manages to stutter out, wiggling his fingers in another attempt at calming himself. It doesn't work either.

James looks at him with a stern glare, not one of any malice but one of intense care for the other.

"Wilbur." He warns, unwavering in his attempts at calming the other.

Wilbur shakes his head, eyes focused on the fibers of his carpet, and he's glad it's soft.

"I said I'm fine, James. Okay?" His tone is sharp, and he knows how mean it sounds but he doesn't mean it that way and James knows that.

James keeps his gaze on his friend, squeezing his shoulders in reassurance and Wilbur attempts to meet his gaze.

It's a few moments before Wilbur cracks, the realization that James isn't letting this go—that James cares—seeps into his mind and he lets down his wall.

"I'm anxious, very anxious. Scared even, I think." Wilbur's voice is small, and it's shaky. "I'm scared that the song isn't as good as we think, that it'll ruin our careers or that it just won't land right, and that all our hard work will be for nothing because I ruined it all."

"Woah, woah, woah. Where is all this coming from? You have the fanbase you do, because you're talented, because Lovejoy is talented. The song is amazing, you've heard it from everyone and their mothers and you wouldn't if it wasn't true." James pauses, taking a moment to think of what he should say next, his hands still resting on Wilbur's shoulders to keep his friend's attention. "It is going to put Lovejoy on the map. I know it."

Wilbur shakes his head, eyes focused downwards. "But it could be what lights us in flames too."

James laughs, a lighthearted and bright laugh, "You really think that?" Wilbur nods. "Man, you are so wrong."

Wilbur looks up, head tilted and eyebrows knitted in confusion. Big brown eyes wide with fear.

"You're seriously the most talented person out there, anything you make either on your own or with people will be and is amazing. Don't undersell yourself, Wil." James lets his hands fall from his friend's shoulders and he holds his arms open, inviting Wilbur for a hug. "Hug?"

Wilbur nods and takes up his offer, wrapping his arms around the slightly shorter man and resting his forehead on his shoulder. "Thank you," Wilbur mutters, the fabric of James' jacket muffling the sound.

"It's what friends are for." James pulls away and so does Wilbur. "Wanna watch a movie to get your mind off of it?"

Wilbur smiles softly, nodding, "That sounds great. Popcorn?" James nods and Wilbur swiftly leaves the sitting room to head into the kitchen moments later.

"What d'ya want to watch?" James calls from the TV, voice echoing through the walls.

"Anything but Marvel."

"Aw man, I was gonna put on the new ant man movie!" James laughs, and Wilbur does too, readjusting his attention to the popcorn he threw in the microwave.

"Very funny, James!" Wilbur calls back, chuckling to himself as the microwave beeps. He takes the package of popped popcorn and hisses when he burns his fingers, shaking them in the air and blowing on them as if it would help the pain. He rushes to pull open the paper bag when doing so he pours out the contents into a turquoise bowl, his favorite but James doesn't need to know that.

He takes the bowl into the living room after discarding the popcorn bag into the trash. He holds up the bowl, greeting James.

"I grabbed your weighted blanket, by the way, hope that's okay." James gives a soft but nervous smile to Wilbur and he smiles wide in return, nodding enthusiastically.

"Thank you," He mumbles in response, his smile warm and thankful.

James widens his own smile in return, "I was afraid it wouldn't be, it's over on your spot." He points over to the far left side of the sofa—it may be Wilbur's sofa but he has a tendency to lean more towards sitting on the far left side. It's just a habit, and he's grown to dislike breaking it.

He walks over to his spot, sitting down just as he did before with his legs tucked under him. He still holds the popcorn bowl and he hands it over to James when said friend finds his spot next to him.

"We could watch Hamilton," Wilbur suggests, head turning to look towards James. He makes eye contact briefly but feels that same uncomfortable panic and averts his gaze again.

"Really, Wilbur?" James' tone is playful, and you can see through his eyes that he's seriously considering it, and the pout Wilbur puts on only makes his case clearer. "Okay, Hamilton it is." James then throws the remote to Wilbur and he catches it immediately. There's a soft, warm smile graced upon James' lips and he crosses his arms over his chest in contentment.

It's a few moments before Wilbur finds Hamilton on Disney+ and selects play, but the moment it begins, his eyes are glued to the screen. He barely touches the popcorn he made as he feels the anxiety drain from him and his body finally feels relaxed. Maybe it's his weighted blanket or his comfort media that helped, but he considers it and believes that maybe it was James. His words and his presence helped calm Wilbur.

It's silent between the two for the next three hours, Wilbur's attention barely staying from the musical playing before him. James notices the silent happy stims Wilbur begins to do, small, soft handshakes or rocking side to side. His smile is wide and James is happy, he's happy he was the one to help and he is beyond glad he was the one Wilbur reached out to.

He knows why Wilbur was upset, why he was anxious and pacing his flat. The anxious thoughts got to his friend, dug into him deep, and began tearing him apart one by one. Something about Wilbur thinking of going to James first for something so stressful and serious—even if he avoided speaking about it at first—was reassuring, or calming to know. He's important to Wilbur just as much as Wilbur is to James.

Everyone deserves a James, and everyone deserves a Wilbur.

Someone who knows you'll be there for them, someone who will find what would make you most comfortable and help you, who will sit with you in silence and simply be in your presence and enjoy it.

This was nice, this was good. And James was happy.

There was a moment of contemplation after the musical had ended on whether James should leave or not. Part of him wanted to stay so he could be sure Wilbur's anxiety wouldn't kick back up and eat him alive, but the other part of him knew he had to get back to Aria and Otto. He loved Wilbur, he was his best friend, but he also knew Wilbur may not handle him staying the night, and he was okay with that.

"I think I'm gonna head home for the night. You'll be okay?" James began to get up off the sofa, throwing on his jacket that he discarded on the chair, his gaze locked on Wilbur. He had his legs pulled up against his chest and his eyes were locked on the floor.

He nods, "Yeah, I'll be fine..You go home." His tone was flat, and it made James unsure in his decision. He bit the inside of his cheek as he paused, standing frozen as he gazes down at his friend who seemed to fall back into the pit of panic.

"Are you sure?" James is keen on being fully sure it's okay to leave Wilbur alone.

Wilbur looks up and gives a soft—masked—smile, "Yeah, of course...Go home to your family."

James rolls his eyes and laughs, "Otto is a cat."

"He's still family, isn't he?" Wilbur inquires, his tone light and playful now.

James groans and smiles, and then turns to leave for the door. "I'm a text or call away, remember that." And then he heads out the door, softly closing it behind him and then he's out of Wilbur's sight and earshot.

Wilbur shakes his head and rests his head against his knees, doing his best to calm his breathing. He decides to put Hamilton back on, maybe it'll help again.

And so he spends the rest of the night like this, head rested on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, and the comfort of Hamilton playing in the background. Eventually, he sleeps.

—★—

It's days later and mere hours to the release of Call Me What You Like. He's sniffly and truly feels like shit with his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and his body being dredged in slime.

It's a horrible gross feeling and he really wishes he didn't go talk to fans after their gig this past Saturday. It's by no means their fault, he just has the worst and weakest immune system known to man—and he knows it.

He was pacing again, the skin around his nails raw and bleeding. He didn't have enough self-restraint so his coping mechanisms today were more self-destructive than usual or than they should be.

The rest of the band had been talking in the group chat all day and he had ignored every message, their positive outlook only made things worse. It really should be what makes it better but their hope for everything to go well and their seeming knowledge of it doing so, dragged him down and only fed the negative thoughts.

It would only crash and burn because of him, not because of the others, so it made since they had a positive outlook. If it burned it wouldn't be their fault by any means.

His pacing only got worse, and he started to pull at his hair. It was an hour to midnight, hes been avoiding Twitter or any other social platform that would tell him what people thought all day. The Australian fans had already listened to it since it's realized at midnight on your local time—but he was too scared to see what they had to say. So he had all of his devices turned off or facing down.

He didn't want to know, he was too scared to know.

He eventually tired himself out and ended up laying on the floor, blood still flowing with panic. His phone went off at exactly midnight and he waited a few minutes before opening his phone, only to be flooded with oceans of messages from his friends and fans. His friends asked if he was okay, and they seemed worried and concerned—they already heard the song so they didn't have much to congratulate him on. The messages, indirects, and mentions online from his fans were all messages of care and congratulations. Expressing their love for the new song and the new sound—they seemed to believe it was a masterpiece. Some people even used that word.

The flow of words upon his screen took him aback. He wasn't sure how to process all of the positive messages, and he was sure this was a dream. I mean, it had to be. How could so many people love the song so much, so soon?

Maybe it was because the words he was seeing were from his already existing fanbase—the people who are devoted to Lovejoy and wouldn't switch their opinion over one song. It wasn't a sound comparison is what his brain told him. So surely, in the next few days, it'll crash and burn.

He didn't have much longer to sink into his anxious thoughts, as Ash was quick to call him. Wilbur hesitated before picking up and bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey," His voice cracked from the lack of use and he dug his hand into the carpet, grabbing at the fibers.

"Well, hello, Wilbur." Ash's voice was joyful, and bright, a very large contrast to how Wilbur felt or sounded. "Have you seen what people are saying? They love it!!" He's so quick to enthusiasm, his voice pitching up towards the end and he lets out a joyful laugh.

Wilbur smiles softly at his friend's reaction, but is still hesitant to believe it to be the truth, "Yeah, yeah I saw some of that." He pauses, breath catching in his throat as he mulls over his next action. "Are they lying, though? I mean they're the ones that have been here ages—they could actually hate it and just say they like it." Wilbur's voice is low and quiet, only audible to the man on the other end of the line.

Ash sighs and lets out a breathy chuckle, "It's the internet, Wil. They'd be brutally honest if it was bad."

Wilbur shakes his head, "But they're our fans, they could lie to save our feelings."

"Dude, you're one of my closest friends and I would hate to hurt your feelings—but you sound like an idiot right now." Wilbur can hear Ash's smile through his words, it's playful in the way he says it.

"I'm sure I do—" He cuts himself off, running his free hand through his hair in a stressed motion. He's at a loss for words, he doesn't know what to say anymore, so he just falls from where he stands, sitting with his legs forward on the floor.

"They love it, Wilbur. And you're part of the reason why." Ash is genuine in the way he reassures Wilbur, he means it just as much as he believes it himself.

Wilbur shrugs, and he feels the anxiety gnawing at his insides again. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"I'm sorry."

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Ash sounds almost offended at Wilbur's words like he just insulted Ash's firstborn child.

"For being a bother? Or for possibly ruining our career." His voice has gone small again, almost mirroring his attempt at curling in on himself, making him seem smaller.

"You're never a bother—and if anything you're the reason we're even here in the first place. Give yourself some more goddamn credit." Ash isn't harsh with his delivery, but stern. And caring—he means well.

"Sorry again," Wilbur replies sheepishly, regretting opening up about his doubts in the first place. He really feels like a burden now, and it's far from Ash's fault.

"Do I need to ban that word?" Ash laughs, and Wilbur can hear the smile through his words and he smiles back.

"No, no, I won't say it anymore. Promise." Wilbur reassures, his smile is unwavering but still small and soft.

"By the way, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come over to mine tomorrow? Joe and Mark are gonna be there too. We're celebrating Call Me What You Like, we tried texting you—" Ash begins but Wilbur is quick to cut him off.

"I'd love to, I'm sorry about ignoring my phone—it was just too hard." Wilbur nervously admits, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, no, I understand. Don't worry, dude. See you at 11?" Wilbur nods and then shortly replies verbally when he realizes Ash can't see him.

The embarrassment bubbles up in his throat but he pushes it down and hurriedly says his goodbyes to Ash. When they've bid their farewells and he's hung up the phone, he heads to his room—deciding sleep is the next thing he should do. He needs much more of it than he's been getting, especially in his ill state. He's not contagious but he notes it as a valid excuse in case he chickens out the next day before he goes over to see his bandmates.

He's more afraid of bringing them down than seeing them. He'd hate to be the reason they feel bad about the song.

—★—

It's been a week since their new single was released, they've been on the radio even more than before, they've announced and sold out an entire tour and the love they've received on it has been absolutely mind-boggling. Wilbur's anxieties over it have practically dissipated entirely, besides the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind about the album—but it's far too early to worry about that. Right now, Wilbur was alone in his flat yet again, patiently waiting for the UK Top 40 charts to release. A few hours prior he posted a video asking everyone to stream CMWYL in hopes they can get a spot on the charts—it'll help get them noticed by important music executives but also reassure him that it's actually good, they wouldn't stream it if it wasn't, right? He didn't mention or consciously realize the second reason, but it was all the same in how prominent of a thought it was.

A few minutes from now and he'll find out statistically how much of a success CMWYL is. Sitting at his desk and refreshing the chart's website is probably not the best option for his anxiety—but he still does it nonetheless. He patiently sits there as he awaits the release of the UK charts. I mean he has nothing better to do at the moment, he's off and he's enjoying his free time just the way he wants.

He's nervously tapping his fingers on his free hand while his knees bounce in the usual gnawing anxiety that he holds. He keeps refreshing the page as he waits for that one moment of truth.

His eyes burn from staring at the screen so long, especially without blinking, and he contemplates taking a break for a moment but then reminds himself why he's doing this in the first place.

After a few more refreshes and the charts are released, he scrolls down the list of songs and artists. He's beginning to get disappointed when he gets into the 20s, but he's soon surprised when he gets to the #32 spot.

Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy is #32 on the UK Charts.

He practically leaps up out of his desk chair when he realizes what he's read. He can't quite tell if the wetness on his cheek is tears of joy or from his eyes watering from yawning and holding his eyes open for hours on end. But he doesn't care, his silly little band has made it. Or, well, it's starting to make it. It's just the first step to becoming known and loved, they can finally get their art out into mainstream media, with new people. They can share their passion with more people.

He's ecstatic, flapping his hands and bouncing around his bedroom floor. It's finally happened. Lovejoy is going to be the indie rock band. And he helped.

Oh my god, he helped!

He goes to rock on his feet as he thinks about what he should do next—obviously, he needs to tweet to thank everyone—should he call his brother? Or maybe his dad, or mum even. He isn't sure where to start first but he seems to go into autopilot as he makes the tweet, taking a photo of him pointing at the computer screen and then another of him flipping out, a blurred and chaotic photo if we're entirely honest. He then texts the LVJY text chat, telling them and showing them photos of it and sending links with it as proof.

And then he calls Tommy, the call is immediately picked up on the other end, a gruff and very Tommy-like hello being muttered on the other end.

"Toms! We're #32 on the charts!" Wilbur exclaims all in one breath, smiling so wide his face hurts and he's giggling from joy. He still bounces on his feet but his hand flapping has died down a little. He spins and jumps around and hopes to God his downstairs neighbors aren't home to be upset at him.

"Really?? Dude, I'm so proud of you!" Tommy replies, and Wilbur is taken aback by how out of character that is—but he takes it, he takes it and he runs with it. His little brother is proud of him.

"Yeah! Yeah! We're finally on the charts man!" His voice is so bright and excited and Tommy laughs at the excitement his big brother exudes.

“You wanna go out and celebrate tomorrow?” Tommy poses the suggestion, voice poking up at the end.

Wilbur quickly nods, “Yeah, of course! Sorry for calling so late by the way--I had to tell someone.” He lets out a small laugh at his own words.

“Glad it was me, big bro.” Tommy’s response and nickname for Wilbur aren't unusual but he can't help from wanting to pick on the younger boy but decides against it.

“Thank you, Toms. I’m gonna head to bed, see you tomorrow?” Wilbur shuffles over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, I’ll text you the plans! Sleep well, bitch.” Tommy lets out an airy laugh and Wilbur mirrors it in response to Tommy being so Tommy.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Love you.”

They bid their final farewells and Wilbur gets up and puts his phone on charge, and then slips into bed.

They’ve finally made it, and it was because of him and his talent. Turns out that anxious thoughts aren't that reliable.

#wilbur soot #wilbur #wil gold #wilbur gold #wilbur centric fic #non reader fic #autistic wilbur #cc!wilbur #sort of sbi #tommy is in it #james and wilbur #but platonic

63 notes · View notes

sametrapeni · 9 months

Text

Father, into your hands

I commend my spirit

Father, into your hands

Why have you forsaken me?

In your eyes

Forsaken me

In your thoughts

Forsaken me

In your heart

Forsaken me, oh

Trust in my

Self-righteous suicide

I cry

When angels deserve to die

In my

Self-righteous suicide

I cry

When angels deserve to die

System of a Down - Chop Suey

🕊💜...🦁❤️................................................🐏💙

Just a sum old sketches and my random thoughts...or maybe just a current mood...uhuh. Scary scary Salieri.

Also....still can't get out of my head the thought of Vinnie as Sam's another father figure, I mean, their chemistry is really nice.

And there were some sweet moments between him and Sam. I don't mean just that Lucky Bastard accident. Their hug at the car races. Or when you go upstairs (after Sergio escaped) and enter the room on the left, there is Vinnie, who is upset about the whole situation. And Sam is just bratty as usual...

S: Man, it's okey, ur old.

V: Shut up! Not true.

So Paulie tries to save the situation. And says something like...

P: Vinnie, don't be sad. Everything I know I've learned from you! <33

V: I've learned Paulie Lombardo everything he knows. Great...

Sorry, I don't remember it word to word. Anyway...

Pfff...Vinnie is also Paulie's father figure!! Awhhh this is too much for me...

#Sam centric post #Sam and his daddy issues #And his need of a father figure #and his mixed feelings about Tommy and Paulie...about those diamonds and drugs #pffff #i'm so normal about them #sam trapani #salieri #paulie #tommy #mafia definitive edition #my post #song post #Spotify

22 notes · View notes

angelsandarsenic · 1 year

Text

here's a crap ton of memes from Ring Ring Ring Banana Phone to convince you to read it

or if you already have, enjoy the memes friend :) (beware of spoilers)

#ring ring ring banana phone #tommy centric fic #sbi fic #dark sbi

118 notes · View notes

proudfreakmetarusonniku · 6 months

Text

This is just funny like tommy doesn’t celebrate thanksgiving bc he’s not american you idiot. thanksgiving is literally just a day over here bc why would we celebrate YOUR countries shit? that makes no sense? do you think the world revolves around you? tommy ain’t gonna be pissed the weirdo who kept joking about him sexually ain’t dming him on a day that literally has no meaning outside your country like

#so mad at someone for stopping being someone’s friend u become ridiculously American centric #this is just so funny #like. anything sent on thanksgiving would jsut be a compliment on a random day to us #I don’t think Tommy’s gonna get too broken up over not receiving a random Nice message from One person #especially one person who was a creep to him!#legit hysterical

14 notes · View notes

wrath-beyond-reckoning · 7 months

Text

Fanfiction Rec / Tracking

To Be Truly Free by CleanLenins

Dream SMP - Technoblade centric - Vampire SBI - Human / Blood Ghd Chosen Technoblade

Summary

The Sleeping Empire had held all the power for centuries. What else did you expect when the Emperor was an undying Vampire? King Philza and his sons, Prince Wilbur and Prince Theseus, have never faced a real threat to their power. Twenty years ago, the Blood God spoke through his Holy Conduit, the King of Scywar. A prophecy that one child born in the month of the Summer Solstice had the potential to crush the hearts of the Vampiric Lords once and for all. As such, a decree that every child born in June must serve the Blood God's church. Technoblade thinks this whole thing is dumb, but no one really cares what he thinks. As one of the children born in June, known as the Blessed Ones, Technoblade dreams of a different life. One not enslaved to The Church. He dreams to know what it means to be truly free. Or- Another Dark SBI Vampire AU. This time, Technoblade is the Human.

Published: 2022-03-06 Updated: 2023-08-14 Words:123,359 Chapters:20/?

Read: Unknown Date been reading since the third or forth chapter.

Note: This is one of the best fanfics I have read flat out not even just in the fandom it is just so freaking good!

#dsmp #dark sbi fanfic #dark sbi #technoblade-centric #rec: tommyinnit #rec: wilbur soot #rec: philza #tw: cults #tw: system abuse #tw: unfair punishment #none of which is approved of administered by sbi #unless you count cuddles as an unfair punishment #tommy and wilbur do thrall techno #mostly by accident though #ongoing

16 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

love me softly (ds2)

love me softly (deleted scenes)

Gareth scribbles another line in his notebook. His handwriting is awful. He doesn’t really worry about anyone finding it, reading his thoughts.

He looks up when he hears a knock on the front door, his hand still writing as he listens to the door open after a moment, to his mom’s voice say, “Tommy!” all fondly. There’s a quiet moment as Tommy talks to her, and Gareth takes the opportunity to finish writing, his handwriting getting worse as he rushes, and as Tommy comes into his room, he pushes the notebook away.

“Whatcha doin’?” Tommy says, swinging the door shut, dropping his bag to the ground. There’s a brown paper bag in his hands.

“Uh, journaling.” He doesn’t really know why he tells him. Only Eddie knows Gareth journals.

“Oh, fun. Here.” He tosses the paper bag to Gareth, and it lands heavily in his stomach, the bag crinkling. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Gareth opens the bag, sitting up in bed a little as Tommy sits heavily on the floor with his back to the bed. The bag is full of cookies.

“…Why?”

“Mom made them for my brother’s class but she made way too many.” Tommy lets his head fall back.

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah. Little piece of shit.”

“Is that a fond ‘piece of shit’ or a sincere one?” Gareth pulls a cookie out of the bag. It’s chocolate chip. He sniffs at it (he doesn’t know why) before he takes a bite.

“Both, I guess,” Tommy sighs. “He’s kinda like my dad. But he’s only ten, so… We’ll see.”

Gareth hums, resting his head back on the wall behind his bed.

“You don’t have a Valentines date?” he asks, voice muffled from the cookie.

Tommy scoffs.

“No, no one wants to date me anymore.”

A shot of guilt goes through Gareth’s chest. It’s because Tommy hangs out with him and Eddie. Gareth knows it. They all know it.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tommy says, his voice lightening. “‘D rather have some good friends and no dates than plenty of dates and friends like Andrew Willis.”

Gareth scoffs.

“Yeah, he sucks.”

“Yeah.” Tommy is quiet for a moment. “You don’t have a date?”

Gareth scoffs again.

“Who the fuck would wanna date me?”

“There’s gotta be some nerdy freshman that’s into you.”

“Like I’d date a freshman,” Gareth says, pretending to gag obnoxiously, and Tommy laughs lightly.

“Alright, some junior then.”

“Eh.” Gareth sighs. “‘S not really my thing.”

“What, high schoolers?” Tommy tilts his head back, looking up at him with a grin. “You into cougars?”

“Shut up,” Gareth says, snorting and kicking at his head with a socked foot. Tommy snickers. “I just meant… like. Romance. Or whatever.”

“You’ll find someone,” Tommy says lightly, confidently.

“‘S not really a matter of finding someone, I don’t think,” Gareth mutters. “I just don’t like people like that.”

“You’ve never liked anyone?”

Tommy looks back at him again, eyes shining curiously.

“Not a one,” Gareth sighs. “I just…” He melts into the bed a little bit. “When I was really little I thought boyfriends and girlfriends were just… really good friends. Like the best friends. Just… of the opposite gender.”

“Right,” Tommy says, listening.

“I thought my parents were just best friends. And then my friends started talking about their crushes in middle school and I just… didn’t get it. Like when they said they liked them as more than friends, ‘cause I thought friends were, like, it, you know?”

Tommy hums, looking up at the ceiling.

“‘S kinda depressing,” Gareth concludes. He’s never told anyone about it. Just because he knows how it sounds. Sad. Lonely.

“Not really,” Tommy argues lightly. “‘S not really all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Romance?”

“Mhmm.”

“How so?” Gareth licks some melted chocolate off his finger.

Tommy sighs, shrugging.

“I dunno. I mean. People act like it should be your goal in life, to find a romantic partner, but it’s… I don’t know. My parents fell in love and got married and now they fucking hate each other.”

Gareth blinks, sucking on the inside of his finger, and he hums softly.

“You even been in love?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says heavily, staring at the ceiling. “Carol Perkins.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You still in love with her?”

Tommy shrugs.

“I don’t know. I think a little. But I don’t like her.”

Gareth blinks in confusion, wiping his finger on his shirt, looking at Tommy’s side profile.

“How can you be in love with someone without liking them?”

“I used to like her,” Tommy explains softly. “Thought she was cool. Really pretty, I mean…” He smiles a little bit, his cheeks flushing, and Gareth suppresses a smile, watching curiously. “Thought she was beautiful. She still is, I mean her face hasn’t changed, you know. Thought she was funny. And she liked me too, I think, even though we didn’t… Like, do anything about it. I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

Tommy’s smile fades and he exhales.

“She’s not… nice.”

“Mm.”

“When me and Steve started hanging out with you guys, she… said stuff that just pissed me off. And then she was pissed that I was pissed and I just…” He sighs. He does that a lot, Gareth’s noticed. “So I think I’m… Like. Falling out of love, I guess.”

“Isn’t that scary? That you can do that?”

“Fall out of love?”

“Yeah.”

They’re talking softer now, both looking up at the ceiling. Gareth feels like they should be high for this.

“Kind of,” Tommy says. “Think I’ve always known it’s a possibility. Like my parents, you know. They look happy in their wedding pictures, but… Jesus. They can’t stand each other.”

“That kinda sucks.”

“Yeah.” Tommy pauses. “‘S not gonna be like that for me.”

“No?”

“Nah.” He’s smiling. “If I get married, she’s gonna be the love of my fuckin’ life. We’ll be happy.”

Gareth grins.

“I like how fondly you speak of your hypothetical future wife.”

“I’m gonna fall in love with her. Might as well get a head start.”

Gareth laughs softly, digging out another cookie and breaking it in half, leaning to hand half to Tommy, who takes with his mouth, making Gareth laugh again.

They’re quiet for a moment, nibbling at the cookie, just sitting in their silence. Gareth doesn’t mind this silence. It’s kind. Soft.

His smile falls after a moment as he gets farther into his own head. Tommy seems to notice.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“I can practically hear you thinking, man,” Tommy says without looking at him. “Talk.”

Gareth sighs. (Maybe it’s contagious.)

“I don’t know. It kinda sucks. That I’m not… like that.”

“Why does it suck?” Tommy questions, and it sounds genuine. Like he actually doesn’t know.

“Just… I don’t know. My dad sometimes will say, like, that he wants to live close to me when I’m older so he can visit and see his grandkids. Which.” Tommy makes an understanding noise. “He really wants grandkids. He likes kids, he used to work in a daycare, he’s great with them. But I can’t, like…” He shrugs even though Tommy isn’t looking.

“If I don’t fall in love,” he says slowly. “I won’t get married. And if I don’t get married, I won’t have kids. And I feel bad that my parents, you know…”

“You don’t have to feel bad for that,” Tommy says firmly.

“No?”

“No. Fuck that. You’re not, like, responsible for giving other people shit, especially if it’s something that’ll impact your life that much, you know?”

Gareth blinks at the ceiling, wiping crumbs off his chin.

“Hm.”

“You don’t owe your parents anything,” Tommy says. His voice is softer.

Gareth looks over at him, his head rolling along the wall. He’s looking at the ceiling, head fallen back against the bed, jaw working as he eats the last bite of the cookie.

“Talk,” Gareth says.

Tommy suppresses a smile.

“Just…” A sigh. “Dad expected me to want to go into business. Take over his company when he wants to retire. And I said no,” his voice heavy.

“Can’t imagine that went well,” Gareth says softly, and Tommy laughs lightly, humourlessly.

“Nope,” he says. “He was pissed. Pulled out the whole I gave you life bullshit, and I pointed out that I didn’t ask him to.”

Gareth’s chest aches, and he suppresses the sudden urge to pull Tommy into a hug.

“He acts like I owe him for my existence,” Tommy says, staring across the room, tracing the posters on the back of Gareth’s door with his eyes. “But I don’t. And I’m not gonna throw my life away and spend the rest of it doing shit I hate just because dear old Pa wants me to.”

“You’re pretty cool, Tommy,” Gareth says.

Tommy scoffs, cracking a smile. (He looks younger when he smiles. It’s nice.)

“Thanks.” He pauses. “Also if you want kids you could just adopt. Be a cool single dad.”

“Oh.” Gareth blinks. He hadn’t thought of that. “I could.” He pauses. “You want kids someday?”

Tommy shrugs. Sighs.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t wanna be like my dad.”

“You won’t be,” Gareth says a little too fast.

“How do you know?” Tommy says, smiling up at Gareth.

He shrugs.

“You’re already better than him. Plus you’ve got, like, a direct guide of what not to do in your living room.”

Tommy snickers, tilting his head.

“‘S true.”

“You’ll be a good dad,” Gareth says confidently. “You’re wise as hell.” Tommy snorts. “Plus you’ll be able to help with their math homework.”

Tommy looks back up at him with a playful glare, and Gareth kicks at his head again.

“Is it nice?” Gareth asks after a moment. “Crushing on people?”

Tommy shrugs.

“‘S kinda fun. The rush.”

“Rush?”

“Yeah, like… It’s exciting. And the butterflies and stuff.”

“Butterflies,” Gareth repeats. “Eddie mentioned butterflies.”

Tommy makes a questioning noise.

“When he was crushing on Steve,” Gareth clarifies. “He told me he was always all nervous and shit. Mentioned butterflies.”

“Hm.”

“What’s it feel like? The butterflies?” Gareth asks curiously, shifting to face Tommy a little bit even though Tommy is still looking at the ceiling.

“Like… Fluttering. In your stomach. Or like your stomach is flipping over. Like being on a rollercoaster, just with an emotional attachment.”

“That sounds… awful,” Gareth comments, grimacing. Tommy laughs lightly.

“‘S kinda nice, actually. Think that’s my favourite part.”

“The butterflies?”

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.”

“You’ve really never felt it?” Tommy asks, looking up at him. Gareth shrugs, shaking his head, tucking his hands under his chin. “Not even— Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Gareth makes a face, furrowing his brows.

“Who would I be kissing?”

Tommy snickers, shrugging.

“You wanna try?”

Gareth blinks at him.

“Do I wanna try kissing someone?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says like it’s obvious. “Maybe you’ll get butterflies. Even if you’re not like, into them.”

“What, are you offering?”

Tommy just quirks his eyebrows, and a laugh bursts right out of Gareth’s chest.

“It could be fun,” Tommy says defensively as Gareth squeezes his eyes shut, still laughing. “We can see if you get butterflies.”

“And you’re down to just kiss me?” Gareth says, still laughing, propping himself up on one elbow now. Tommy looks up at him, eyes bright.

“Kissing’s fun.”

“You’re serious,” Gareth says, awestruck, wide-eyed and beaming. Tommy laughs lightly, shrugging again.

“Could be fun.”

Gareth scoffs, his eyes flicking back and forth between Tommy’s, searching, but he finds nothing but gleaming sincerity.

“Fuck it,” he says after a moment. “Sure. Why not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Come here.”

Tommy grins and scrambles up, kicking off his shoes and moving to sit cross-legged across from Gareth, who shakes his head and covers his face.

“This is so stupid,” he laughs. “So, so stupid.”

“So are we,” Tommy says. He’s laughing too.

Gareth pauses to collect himself, setting the cookies aside, crossing his legs to mirror Tommy.

“Okay.”

“We don’t have to,” Tommy says.

“No, I— I want to, it’s just…” He looks into his eyes, shaking his head again. “This is so dumb.”

Tommy grins.

“It’s just for fun. Checking it off the bucket list.”

“I don’t have a bucket list.”

“Okay, then we’re just doing dumb shit.”

Gareth snorts, unable to hold back another laugh, dropping his head and listening as Tommy laughs too.

“Okay,” he says when he stops laughing. His face is sore from his smile. “Okay, alright.”

He moves closer and they uncross their legs, moving so their legs wrap around each other. Tommy reaches up to push Gareth’s hair out of the way, leaning closer. Gareth scans his face, his plethora of freckles.

“You’re not allowed to make fun of me if I’m bad at this,” Gareth says firmly, still grinning, lifting his hands to rest on Tommy’s chest, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“Won’t make fun of you,” Tommy says. His cheeks are flushed. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Gareth says again, sighing, shaking his head, his gaze lowering to Tommy’s lips.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy nudges their noses together, and Gareth’s eyes flutter shut as he inhales, and then Tommy’s lips are pressing to his tentatively in a soft kiss.

Gareth doesn’t get the sparks. He’s heard people talk about them, about the fireworks and shit, but he doesn’t get any. Instead his stomach flips over.

Oh. The rollercoaster.

Gareth’s lips part when Tommy pulls away for a split second, just to swipe his tongue over his lips and tilt his head before he leans back in. Gareth’s fingers tighten on Tommy’s shirt, pulling him closer.

A sharp breath escapes him when he feels Tommy’s tongue slip over his bottom lip, and his jaw falls slack. Tommy tastes like chocolate.

Gareth melts a little bit, shoulders slumping, head falling back and his chin lifting up as Tommy sucks on his lower lip gently, and his fingers shift to just a over his collar, pressing into his neck. He’s warm. (It makes sense. He always seems like there’s sunlight under his skin.)

Gareth’s lip is tingling when Tommy finally releases it, kissing him slowly and carefully one more time before they part.

They stare at each other for a moment, eyes shining, holding each other in their hands, and then they both burst into laughter, and they’re letting go of each other to cackle. Gareth falls onto his back, covering his face, and Tommy snorts, which just makes Gareth laugh harder. it’s the kind of laughter that’s silent, except the desperate gasps of breath, and Gareth’s stomach hurts, and Tommy’s legs are kicking at him because Tommy’s eyes are squeezed shut and he can’t see him rolling around.

They’re both red-faced when their laughter finally settles, and Gareth pushes himself to sit up.

“So?” Tommy asks, voice wavering as he hold back another bout of laughter. “Butterflies?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Gareth says, breathless, still giggling. “‘S nice.”

“Right?”

Gareth nods, but he can’t stop himself from laughing again, and he covers his face, squeezing his eyes shut.

“So fucking stupid,” he mutters.

“So fucking stupid,” Tommy agrees. “But it’s fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Gareth giggles. “‘S fun.”

They stare for a moment, stifling giggles, until Gareth says, “So fucking dumb,” as he’s leaning back in, and their grins crash together.

When they finally stop, they end up laying side by side in bed, legs tangled. Tommy’s arm is around Gareth’s shoulders, playing with the ends of his hair, and Tommy reaches behind himself blindly to find the cookies again, pulling one out and breaking it, reaching up to loft half to Tommy’s mouth.

“Was I okay?” Gareth asks, mouth full.

“At kissing?”

“Mm.”

“Yeah, really good.”

“Really.”

“You’re a fuckin’ natural, man.”

Gareth grins.

“Cool.”

They finish the cookie in silence. Tommy’s fingers twist in Gareth’s hair, playing with it gently, and when Gareth glances up at him, he sees that he’s watching it, smiling softly.

Gareth shifts closer, moving onto his side, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder and reaching to trace the stripes of his shirt over his chest.

Tommy pulls him in closer, lifting his other hand to rub Gareth’s upper arm comfortingly, tenderly. He’ll be a good husband, Gareth thinks.

“You don’t think in it’s sad?” he asks softly. “That I’m not gonna fall in love with anyone?”

“No,” Tommy says lightly. Quickly, but not so quickly it was unbelievable. Quickly like he knows.

“No?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Why not? You don’t think it’ll be lonely?”

“Gareth…” Tommy sighs, his hand tightening on Gareth’s arm, his fingers pushing farther into his hair. Gareth realises he hasn’t heard Tommy say his name before that much. Tommy is quiet for a moment before, “Are you happy?”

Gareth’s eyebrows raise.

“That’s… definitely a question.”

“Just—“ Tommy laughs lightly. “Are you, like, content? Just in general.”

Gareth thinks for a moment.

About right now.

Dad’s at work. Mom’s in the living room watching some soap opera. There are flowers on the dining table and a cheesy card that his dad left there this morning.

Steve and Eddie are on a date somewhere. Probably getting high and making out at the quarry or something.

Tommy is playing with his hair and holding his arm, and the taste of chocolate chip cookies is lingering in Gareth’s mouth, and he feels kinda sleepy.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “‘M happy.”

“That’s why it’s not sad,” Tommy says. “You don’t need a significant other to be happy. You already have people that you love, and that love you, like— like your parents, and Eddie and Steve, and the other Hellfire guys, and you’re gonna meet so many people in your life that you’re gonna love and that are gonna love you, and…” He trails off, shrugging, making Gareth’s head move. “‘S not sad. You don’t have to be lonely.”

Gareth blinks, watching his own hand trace the lines across Tommy’s chest. Absorbing it all.

“You forgot yourself,” he says quietly after a few moment.

“Hm?”

“You listed everyone I love except yourself.”

Tommy is quiet. Gareth looks up at him.

His eyes are gleaming and he’s blinking at the ceiling, his throat shifting as he swallows.

“Oh.” His voice is thick. “Okay.”

Gareth lays his head back down, wrapping his arm around Tommy’s torso and hugging him, his cheek squishing against Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy hugs him back, arms wrapping around Gareth’s neck.

He must not hear it often, those words.

Gareth closes his eyes, feeling Tommy’s chest rise and fall with every breath.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, asshole.”

Tommy chokes out a laugh.

“Yeah, I love you too. Dick.”

The sun is going down outside. Tommy doesn’t get up to leave. It’s only Tuesday. They can go to school tomorrow. Tommy can borrow a shirt if his polo is too wrinkled.

“Are we telling Eddie and Steve about this?” Gareth questions out loud.

“We don’t have to,” Tommy says sleepily.

“M’kay.”

(It doesn’t really matter. A few weeks later, the four of them get cross-faded at Steve’s, and Gareth, head full of clouds and stomach full of liquor, walks up to Tommy as he’s talking to Eddie and says, “I would like a kiss.” Tommy, also full of clouds and liquor, promptly completely forgets about Eddie and whatever they’re talking about, and pulls him into a kiss, both of them ignorant to the wide-eyed stares Steve and Eddie are giving them.)

#i was so excited to write this #and it was very fun #they have a queerplatonic thing #aroace gareth <3 #next scene is chrissy centric <333 #love me softly #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson #tommy hagan #gareth emerson fanfic #tommy hagan fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things oneshot

30 notes · View notes