Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy jolts awake, gasping for breath, a hand clawing at his shirt as he sits up, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes frantically.

Tears stream down his face as he takes in heaving breaths of air, scrambling backwards until his back hits a wall. He cries out in panic, whipping around to stare at the brick wall behind him with wide terrified eyes. Whimpers fall from his lips as terror and fear fills his mind, his hand pressed against his chest to feel how fast his heart was beating.

After a moment he realizes with sinking dread that he doesn't feel his heartbeat. His chest is silent, and no matter what pulse point Tommy tries he can’t feel anything that would indicate that he has a beating heart.

Tommy— Tommy shouldn't be alive right now.

He hunches in on himself as a sudden coldness seeps into his bones, his chest heaving with the effort of taking in air as he hyperventilates, yet he doesn't feel light headed at all.

His heart isn’t pounding, and he can’t feel anything but the cold, as it settles deep within his bones, his chest, right besides his unbeating heart.

Tommy doesn’t know what's going on.

In his panic he checks for the stab wound in his stomach, and he finds nothing but an old scar seemingly healed already, all that was left was just a thin scar. His shirt is still ripped and bloodied, though the blood is long dried by now, a rusty orange color.

He can see the sky brightening up from his spot in the alley, the pale blues slowly morphing into pinks and yellows.

His eyes feel sharper, the darkness that had consumed him no longer feeling as constricting. His ears pick up on the cars driving past, the sound of people walking, talking, just around the bend of the alley.

“Oh my,” Comes a sudden new voice, making Tommy flinch so hard he nearly smacks his head on the wall behind him. He scrambles away from the person, his blue eyes snapping up to a tall woman in all black who stands in front of his trembling form.

“You poor thing,” She says, her brown eyes full of sympathy, “You’re just a kid,” She breathes out, the slightest twinge to her brow, as she tilts her head, as if she was studying him. Tommy shrinks under her intense gaze, feeling a strange calm settle over him.

“Who— who are you?” He rasps out, cringing at how bad his voice sounds, licking his dry cracked lips.

The woman smiles warmly, leaning forwards slightly, her black hair falling in front of her face. She wears a big black hat that shadows part of her face, and her skin is pale, the palest he’s ever seen before. She wears black robes, with a dull red heart on her chest, the symbol had sharp lines, nothing like Tommy had ever seen before.

“I am Lady Death,” She introduces herself with a small smile, “But you can call me Kristin, dear.” She says kindly, her smile never wavering, “And you are?” She prompts softly, and Tommy swallows, his brain taking a moment to process her question.

“Um— I’m Tommy,” He mumbles in a quiet voice, “Nice to meet you,” He says, but it sounds more like a question when he says it out loud.

Kristin just smiles though, looking up at him with kind eyes.

“Nice to meet you too,” She says, before pausing, “Do you know what happened, Tommy?” She asks in a gentle voice, and Tommy freezes, his hand pressing against his stomach where a wound should be but there isn’t—

“I died,” He states, more bluntly than he intended, and Kristin nods, kneeling down in front of him.

She sighs, glancing away for a moment, as if this was difficult for her, before peering back at him with gentle eyes.

“You did,” She agrees softly.

“I’m dead.” Tommy says, horror filling his voice as he tugs at the hair on his head, trying to ground himself because there was no way he could just die—

“Tommy,” Kristin says, gently grabbing his hands, pulling them away from his hair. She holds them in hers, gently rubbing her thumb on his palm, giving Tommy something to focus on besides the panic in his head.

“You aren’t dead,” She says, her brown eyes meeting his, “You were given a second chance.” She breathes out with a smile. Tommy can’t find any hint of deception or malice within her eyes or voice, nothing that gives away that she isn’t telling the truth.

“I— what?” Tommy asks, his eyes wide as he slowly blinks, “I… I should be dead.”

“Yes, but the universe has another fate for you,” Kristin says, “No matter how cruel it may be, the universe is always correct. And it chose you, Tommy, to become one of our Reapers, our son.” She squeezes his hands gently.

“Being chosen as a Reaper is a great honor, bestowed upon only the most worthy of people. You have become one of our children, ours to look after, to guide,” She says in a soft voice, “One of our children to help aid us in the battle of life and death, to retrieve wayward souls, and restore balance to the waking world.”

Tommy just stares at her dumbly, not taking in a single word she just said. Something about children, and Reapers, and life and death and god— can he just lay down? He wants to go home and take a very long nap and pretend this was all some bad dream.

“What?” Is all he manages, his mind not able to wrap around anything she’s spewing out. He knows it must be important, and that he should listen, but fuck, he just died! He still isn't over that.

Kristin just smiles kindly, reaching out and cupping his cheek with her hand.

“It's alright,” She says, “There are others around you who can help you,” She hums, before sighing, “But there is something you must know, Tommy, and you need to listen closely.”

Tommy blinks at that, inhaling sharply, his blue eyes set on the woman in front of him.

“You are a Reaper now,” She begins slowly, “You work for me and Death, my husband… he is a very busy man, and so am I, so I must warn you about getting on his bad side.” She says with a small frown.

“You will have to bring souls to me and Death, and you cannot refuse to do so,” She says gently, “If you don’t listen to us then Death will have to get involved, and you do not want him to keep an eye on you.” She warns.

“Death is not a forgiving man,” She sighs, gently rubbing her thumb along his cheek, “He has little patience.”

“W— what?” Tommy stutters out, “Death— who the fuck is Death? And why do I need to stay on his good side? What the fuck— I can’t, this is too much.”

Kristin just smiles, shaking her head.

“Death is my husband,” She says, “We share the responsibility of bringing souls to the afterlife. It is not an easy job.”

Tommy swallows nervously, nodding his head.

“And— and if I get on his bad side? What happens then? He’s gonna come and fucking, I don’t know, kill me again?” He asks, his voice wavering on his words.

“It would be something like that,” She says, “If you do your job then you will have nothing to worry about. Some Reapers never even meet him, knowing Death, he prefers that.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, his voice shaking, “Okay— what job?” He asks, confusion settling within him, the panic over dying slowly fading away into the background.

“You have to deliver souls to us,” She begins, “They could be lost souls, souls who got stuck in the waking world, or living people whose time to live is up,” She explains gently, “Sometimes people cheat death, and we cannot allow that.”

Tommy’s eyes go wide as he mulls over her words.

“You want me to kill people?” He exclaims, pushing her away from him, “What— there's no way, I can’t kill people!”

“Tommy,” Kristin says, trying to get his attention, “They were destined to die, but somehow survived, they cannot be left to walk the earth—“

“Why do you care? If they lived after this— this horrible event that should have killed them why kill them?” Tommy says, shaking his head, panic crawling its way back in. His chest heaves for breath as he takes in short breaths, losing the calm he had.

“Thats— thats so fucked up! I can’t do that, theres no way… you’re fucking crazy! All of this is crazy!” Tommy says, his hands back in his hair as he ignores Kristins attempts to talk to him.

“Tommy—“

“No! Leave me alone!” Tommy shouts at her, pressing his back against the wall, his eyes fogging up with tears, “This— this can’t be real, this all must be some cruel joke! There’s no way,” He laughs, dragging a hand through his hair, uncaring of how hard he tugs on his hair.

“Heed my warnings, Tommy,” Kristin says as she stands back up, dusting off her black robes, “I will be in contact with you soon. Go home, kid.” She says, and then she's gone into the shadows, leaving Tommy all alone.

Tommy’s shaky blue eyes dart around the alley, making sure she was actually gone and wasn’t playing tricks on him, as the sun starts to travel further up into the sky, chasing a way the lingering shadows.

She was gone.

~~~~

Tommy stumbles his way back to his apartment, earning him many strange looks from people he passes by on the streets.

When he gets back to his building he walks right past the small lobby area and to the elevator. Thankfully no one was inside when it opened up, and Tommy was able to peacefully ride up four floors to the floor his room was on.

He leans against the wall, a hand pressed against his stomach at where his wound should be, but it isn’t— it’s gone. His brain is still having a hard time processing this.

The elevator dings as it slowly comes to a stop, the doors opening up. Tommy pushes off the wall with a grunt, stumbling his way out, trying to be as quiet as possible but fuck, all he wants to do right now is pass the fuck out.

Tommy makes his way to his door, stopping right in front of it. He pats his pockets down for his keys, his movements slow, waiting to hear the familiar jingle his keys always make. But he finds all his pockets empty, including his wallet and phone, all gone.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, not only was he killed but he was also fucking robbed. He was not having a good day.

Before he even has a chance to knock the door is swinging open and he’s met face to face with Wilbur.

Except he doesn't look like the Wilbur Tommy remembered him as.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asks, and his eyes go wide, before he drags him inside, shutting the door behind them. Wilbur never lets go of him as Tommy basically leans all of his weight against the man, soaking up his comfort.

“Wil,” Tommy whines, letting him sit him down on the couch, his cold hands grasping his face as he sits beside him. Tommy meets his watery eyes and he notes they aren’t completely brown anymore. There’s a hint of red in them, swirling within his dark eyes, something that had never been there before.

Wilbur’s also got a white strand in his curly brown hair, and his skin is a sickly pale, just like Kristin’s was. Even his teeth appear sharper, his face more hollow looking, nothing like how Wilbur looked yesterday.

“Are you sick?” He asks, reaching out a hand to rest against Wilbur’s forehead, though he feels nothing but cold, “You’re freezin’, man, that's not normal.”

Wilbur just lets out a small, horrified laugh, his eyes swelling up with tears.

“Oh my gods, Toms.” Wilbur says, grasping onto his hand, “You— who did this to you? Who killed you?” He asks, his hands shaking now as he stares at him, as if he wasn’t real.

Tommy’s not sure what's got Wilbur so freaked out— he’s more worried about why WIlbur suddenly looks different.

“Wilbur? Tommy?” Techno calls as he rounds a corner, and as Tommy looks at him, he notices that even he looks different.

He’s still got his pink hair, but white strands accompany it like Wilbur’s, and his eyes are blood red, nothing like the brown shade they used to be. His teeth are pointed, sharper, and he looks bigger, taller than what he had been just yesterday.

“Tech— Techno?” Tommy chokes out, his eyes going wide in surprise as he stares at him, a confused look crossing his face, “What— what the fuck happened to you two?”

Techno is at his side in an instant, giving Wilbur a horrified look as he plants his hands on Tommy’s shoulder, his red eyes swirling with different emotions as he peers into his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno begins slowly, eyeing his brother as he has a silent panic attack, “Why don’t you go start a shower for Tommy? Pick out some new clothes for him, too. I'm sure he’s exhausted.” Techno says, his eyes glancing over at Wilbur.

Wilbur just stares at Tommy, his eyes wide, his grip on him unrelenting, though Tommy doesn't want him to let go. He looks like he just saw the most horrible thing in the world, his throat choked up as tears spill down his face.

“Techno—“ Wilbur sobs out, cupping Tommy’s face with one hand, “He— he died, someone killed our Tommy, our world,” He sputters out, his grip on him tightening even more. Tommy just owlishly blinks at Wilbur.

“Wil?” Tommy asks softly, concern filling him when Wilbur doesn’t respond, “Wilbur? Hello? Earth to Wilbur?” Tommy says, lightly slapping his face as panic starts to run through his system again.

Wilbur breaks out of whatever weird trance-like state he had been in, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes flicker over him.

“I— I’ll go get a shower started.” Wilbur says, letting go of Tommy after a moment, before standing up and walking away, though he glances back at him all the way to the hallway.

Techno and Tommy watch him go before Techno sighs, turning his full attention on Tommy.

“Tommy—“

“What the fuck is going on?” Tommy interrupts, gripping onto Techno’s arm, staring at the red eyes in front of him, “You— you both are different. Why do you look different?” He asks, his voice sounding strained, mania tugging at his mind.

Techno slowly blinks at him, his red eyes swirling before he seems to settle on a conclusion.

“You died, Tommy.” He begins, “We… we weren’t there to protect you. We failed you.” His words are like blades, slicing through him as he shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes as his hands tug at his hair again.

“No, no no no— I can’t be dead if I’m still here!” He exclaims, a panicked laugh bubbling out of his chest, “Do you know how crazy this all is? I'm not dead, I didn’t die— I’m still alive!” He stresses, desperately meeting Techno’s eyes, willing him to understand what he was saying.

But Techno just has a sad look on his face, his eyes crestfallen, his normally stony look crumbling away.

It makes Tommy falter at the amount of emotion Techno was showing. Techno was never an emotional guy, barely cracking smiles or even laughing, but he had his moments when he would hold Tommy close and whisper in his hair that everything would be okay.

“Tommy,” Techno says, his monotone voice shifting, as he reaches out with one of his big hands and gently tugs away at the hand in his hair, “Hey, kid, look at me.” He says softly, and Tommy sniffles, his eyes getting blurry as he meets Techno’s.

“You’re okay,” He promises, “I’m sorry, I'm so sorry,” Techno says, his voice wavering, and Tommy can’t stop himself from breaking.

An ugly sob rips its way out of his chest as he leans forwards into Techno’s arms, tears streaming down his face as he hiccups, heaving in breath.

Techno wraps his arms around him, slowly rocking the two of them back and forth, mumbling reassurances into his hair, rubbing circles on his back. It takes a while for Tommy to calm down, as he holds onto Techno for dear life, trembling in his arms.

“You’re a Reaper, just like me and Wilbur,” Techno says, his voice quiet, “You work for Death now. You— you were chosen to become a Reaper… Some call it an honor, and others call it a curse. Only you can decide if this a blessing or not.”

Tommy just shakes his head, willing Techno to just stop talking.

“No— no, m’ not a Reaper, I’m not anything! I'm just Tommy. Tommy,” He says, his voice wavering, “I don’t want this.” He breathes out, and Techno tightens his hold on him, burying his face in his hair. Techno takes in a deep breath before sighing.

“I know,” He says, “You’re Tommy. My Tommy.”

Tommy sniffles at that, clutching onto Techno, only opening his eyes to peer at Wilbur as he enters the living room again.

“The uh— the shower is warm,” He says in a small voice, and Techno nods, slowly shifting Tommy so he can meet his eyes.

“Come on, runt, let's get you cleaned up,” Techno says softly, standing up and dragging Tommy with him.

Tommy clings onto Techno, using him to support most of his weight. His limbs feel like lead, and the thought of moving makes him tremble, his muscles feeling weak and exhaustion settling heavily within his body.

Techno doesn't seem to mind, wrapping his arm around his waist, his other arm held in Tommy's grasp, his nails digging into his skin.

Wilbur follows behind the two, his eyes never leaving Tommy, as they make it to the bathroom where Techno sets him down on the toilet, his red eyes flickering over to Wilbur.

Tear tracks stain Wilbur’s face, and his eyes look stormy, swirling with different emotions, though he seems more composed then he had earlier.

Techno kneels in front of him, meeting his gaze. Tommy still holds onto one of his arms for support, his eyelids getting heavier by the moment.

“Where did you get hurt?” He asks softly, and Tommy hums, pressing a hand to his stomach as if he was reminded of his deadly wound bleeding out again.

Techno has to pry his hand off his stomach, the old dried blood stains standing out as he lifts up his shirt, his eyes landing on the thin scar where his wound used to be.

“That's a Reaper's blade—“ Wilbur states, leaning in closer to get a better look, “He was killed by a Reaper.” He says, his tone flat and cold, anger and betrayal swirling up in his eyes.

Techno’s face goes cold, his red eyes alight with anger as he stares at the wound, reaching out with a finger to trace it.

Tommy shivers at his touch, whining— he just wants to sleep.

“Shh, it's okay Tommy,” Wilbur says, all of them ignoring the slight crack in his voice as he rests a hand on his head, gently combing through his curls, “Let us help you, sunshine,” He coos softly, his brown eyes never leaving the scar on his stomach.

Tommy leans into his touch, closing his eyes in contentment. If he was a cat he would be purring by now.

Techno manages to get his bloodied jacket off, and then his ruined shirt, the man ending up just ripping it apart.

Tommy blinks open his eyes to see all the blood coated onto his skin, dried and cracked, some of it flaking off onto the ground. It wasn’t a pretty sight and made him gag slightly as his eyes trail back down to the scar on his stomach, memories flashing back of blood pouring out from it.

The two get him into the shower, leaving him to scrub at the blood and clean his hair.

Tommy just sits in the warmth of the water, letting it run down his skin, washing away the grime and blood that coats his skin.

It isn’t until Techno knocks on the door to ask how he is doing that he starts to scrub off the blood with a towel and soap, watching as the water turns red and rinses down the drain.

With shaky arms he shampoos his hair, lazily lathering in conditioner before he sinks down further in the tub, closing his eyes.

He was dead.

The realization hits him like a truck, makes his chest squeeze, his throat tighten up. There was no way he could have just… died like that. The great Tommy Innit, biggest man alive, dead from a stab wound in the stomach.

It didn’t sit right with him.

And now apparently he was a Reaper, and so were Techno and Wilbur.

He leaves that for future Tommy to unpack.

Eventually he heaves himself up, washing out the conditioner in his hair and turning off the water, taking a moment to just sit and let the water drip off of him.

He drags himself out of the tub, drying off with a towel and getting dressed in the new clothes Wilbur had brought him. He puts them on slowly, his limbs feeling like they were stuck in honey, his world slow, lethargic.

When he glances in the mirror he pauses, his eyes going wide at the sight that stares back at him.

His blonde hair is incredibly pale, nearing white, along with a similar white streak in his curls just like Wilbur’s. His blue eyes are vibrant, practically glowing with the intensity, and his skin is a pale, sickly shade.

His face is sharper, looks hollower, and when he opens his mouth he finds his teeth are pointier, just like his brothers are. He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror.

He can’t bear to look at himself for long, tearing his eyes away from his reflection. By the time he’s done he’s shaking from the effort spent, opening the door handle with trembling hands.

Techno waits outside of it, leaning against the wall, while Wilbur paces in front of him, muttering things under his breath as he went.

The moment he’s out Techno grabs onto him, steadying him, his red eyes looking him over.

Wilbur is by his side immediately, grabbing onto his face as he meets his gaze.

“Oh, Tommy dear, let us get you to bed, come on,” Wilbur urges, and Tommy complies, letting the two lead him to Wilbur’s room.

He doesn't even question it as Wilbur gently pushes him down, with Tommy practically collapsing into his soft sheets and blankets. Wilbur nudges him under the covers, before climbing in with him, pulling Tommy up to his chest and wrapping him up in his arms, tucking his head under his chin.

“You got him, Wil?” Techno asks from above them, and Wilbur hums, running a hand through his hair. Tommy is already slipping away into unconsciousness, completely limp in Wilbur’s hold, allowing the man to do whatever he wants.

“Yes, Techno,” Wilbur says softly, “I need you to stay in tonight.”

“Of course,” Techno says, his red eyes meeting Wilburs, “I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Good,” Wilbur hums, looking down at Tommy as he falls into sleep, “We cannot let our dad anywhere near him.”

“Agreed.”

“The Reaper that killed him will pay,” Wilbur continues on, running his hand through his wet curls, “He will die to our hands,” He says darkly, his words condemning, a promise he intends to keep.

“It was dad that sent him after Tommy,” Techno says, “Tommy was never marked for death.”

“Oh, I know.” Wilbur says, his grip on him tightening, “What a cruel twist of fate that Tommy ended up being picked to become one of his Reapers, huh? Phil will fucking pay for this,” Wilbur promises, and Techno just gives him a look.

“And how do you intend on making that happen?” Techno asks, “Phil is Death, when he finds out about this he’ll just kill him again, and there's no coming back after that.”

“He can’t find out,” Wilbur snaps, shaking his head, “This is our second chance— Techno, don’t you realize how lucky we are? Truly, the odds of this happening were almost fucking zero— but Tommy will be with us forever now.”

“I know.”

“Phil will pay,” Wilbur says, “He must have been spying on us, realizing we were spending more time with a human boy then him, the possessive bastard,” Wilbur spits out, his anger rising in his chest, “What did he expect was going to happen? That we were going to run to him for comfort?” Wilbur sneers.

“Idiot. Who does he think we are?” Wilbur says, his brown eyes blazing with anger.

“He’s our dad,” Techno sighs, “He thinks he knows what's best.”

“Yeah, well he can go fuck off,” Wilbur snaps, clutching Tommy tighter, “He’ll pay for this.”

“He will.”

~~~~~

Tommy rests against Wilbur, his head leaning on his chest, his arms wrapped around his torso, half in Wilbur’s lap. Wilbur plays with his hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around him, cradling him to his chest.

Techno sits besides the two on the couch, with Tommy’s legs in his lap, gently tracing patterns on his calf.

It's a cloudy day, with dark storm clouds rolling in, a light drizzle and fog, making the whole world seem grey and lethargic. The morning has been quiet, solemn, as if all three of them were mourning the death of someone.

Which they all kind of were. Tommy Innit was dead, and in his place was nothing but a shell of a human body, a walking corpse donning the title of a Reaper.

Wilbur trails his fingers through his hair, gently detangling the knots, scratching at his head here and there. It was soothing, calming, distracting him from his relentless thoughts, as Tommy matches Wilbur’s breathing, in tune with the rise and fall of his chest.

Eventually the peaceful silence around the three is broken by Techno’s sigh, Wilbur lazily looking over at him as Techno’s uncanny red eyes flick up to the duo.

“We need to talk,” Techno says softly, and Tommy huffs, burying his face away in Wilbur’s sweater as his hands curl into the fabric.

“Don’t wanna,” He mutters, clinging onto Wilbur tighter. Wilbur chuckles softly, the hand in his hair making its way down to his neck, playing with the baby hairs there.

“Oh sunshine,” Wilbur sighs, “There is so much to talk about.”

Techno hums in agreement, resting his hand on his ankle. It was a nice grounding weight.

“Like what happened last night?” Techno asks, and Tommy winces, cracking open an eye to meet his red ones. It was still unnerving how blood red his eyes were, nothing like the deep brown they had once been.

Tommy misses them.

He stays quiet, hoping maybe his silence will deter them, but after a couple of moments Wilbur shifts him so he can meet his eyes.

“Tommy, please tell us,” He says softly, cupping his face with one hand, “We— we need to know what happened.”

Tommy withers under his look, swallowing harshly as he glances down at his yellow sweater. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then his throat locks up and he can’t quite make out any words.

It takes him a moment, a frustratingly long time before he manages to mutter out words.

“I… I was walking home from work, right? We got held up by some rude Karen, kept us after for thirty extra minutes, and as I was walking I was dragged into an alley.” He says, trying to hide the tremble in his hands as he recalls the events.

“I couldn’t clearly see the guy, but he was much stronger than me. He stabbed me in the stomach, I think, I tried to to save myself, but it was like all of my energy had been drained. I… don’t really remember what happened after that,” He says in a small voice.

Techno shifts besides him, one of his hands landing on his shoulder, squeezing it, as Wilbur makes a pained noise, tugging Tommy’s head back against his chest.

“I'm so sorry, Tommy,” Wilbur breathes, guilt eating away at his voice, “I’m so sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Wil,” Tommy mumbles, but he can’t help the way he remembered wondering where Wilbur or Techno was. When they would come save him.

“It is,” Wilbur stresses, getting worked up again, “We should have been there— gods, one of us should have come to pick you up from work.”

“Wilbur, stop,” Tommy sighs, “No one can change what happened, you stupid bitch.” He says, and the two of them seem to tense up, an uncomfortable silence falling over the three.

Wilbur is silent at that, holding Tommy close, as if he was afraid he was going to disappear, his mind spiraling again.

“Wilbur,” Techno says, “I will take away your Tommy privileges if you don’t stop,” Techno threatens and Wilbur sharply looks up, his eyes going wide in surprise.

“What?” He sputters out, “You— you can't take Tommy away from me,”

“Don’t test me,” Techno says and Tommy snickers at the look on Wilbur’s face. Wilbur glances down at him with a scowl, constricting his arms tighter around him.

“Hey— hey! I am an innocent bystander!” Tommy squeaks out, struggling in Wilburs hold, while Wilbur rolls his eyes, his arms unrelenting around him.

“Yeah right,” He says, starting to tickle him as Tommy screeches, reaching out to Techno for help.

“Techno! Save me!” He exclaims, grabbing onto the man's arm, but Techno just gives him an amused look as Wilbur continues to tickle him, making him laugh as he tries to push away from him.

At the end of the tickle fight Tommy ends up on the ground in a pile of limbs, Wilbur’s legs trapping him in from above the couch, as he and Techno have a perfectly normal conversation over his cries for help.

“Wilbur,” Tommy whines, hitting the man in the shin. Wilbur lightly kicks him in retaliation but says nothing as he continues on his conversation with Techno. “Techno,” Tommy says, dragging out his name, gripping onto his ankle as he tries to drag himself away from Wilbur.

Techno peers down at him with an amused look, before he reaches for him with his arms, scooping Tommy up.

Tommy lets him without fighting back, huffing when he’s set down beside the man, tucked under his arm, while Wilbur watches with sharp eyes.

“Is that better, Theseus?” He asks, practically smushing him against his side. Tommy huffs in annoyance, but doesn’t make a move to leave, moving his head so he can actually see.

“Aw, did Techno take pity on the baby of the house?” Wilbur croons, “Oh, poor baby Tommy, needing big brother Techno to come save him? How cute,” He says in a teasing voice, and Tommy huffs, flipping Wilbur off as he feels his face get warm.

“I don’t need anyone to save me, prick! I am a big man,” He says, not missing the way Wilbur’s look falters for a moment, but he recovers quickly, his grin back on his face.

“Did you meet Kristin, Tommy?” Techno asks suddenly, cutting off the two’s staring contest.

Tommy blinks up at Techno, the name making him pause.

“I— yeah, I did,” He says slowly, “She was a prick.”

Techno raises a brow at that as Wilbur snorts, leaning back against the couch, his brown eyes pinned on him as he listens.

“Oh?” Techno prompts and Tommy nods his head.

“Yeah, she told me a bunch of stupid shit, she probably made it all up.” He huffs, glancing away from Techno.

He doesn't really believe that.

“How do you know her, anyways?” He asks, and Techno gives Wilbur a look.

“Well,” Wilbur begins, “She's our mom.”

Tommy’s head snaps up to meet Wilbur’s eyes, his mouth agape in shock.

“What? Your mom—“ He exclaims, “I thought your mom was some rich ceo! Not a fucking— death monster thing!”

Wilbur snorts at that, an amused look on his face before he sighs.

“There is a lot that we need to tell you, Tommy,” He says, in a more serious note, “This… Reaper business is serious stuff. Dangerous. Its a second chance, sure, but if you fuck it up there’s no going back.”

Tommy sighs, his fingers digging into Techno’s shirt as he looks away from him with a frown.

“I don’t understand what a Reaper even is,” He says, and Techno shifts, peering down at where he ducks his head.

“A Reaper is a soul reborn to serve Death,” Techno explains slowly, “But in simpler terms we are Death's cleanup crew. We have to fix up his mistakes, hunt down the souls that got away, cover up the cracks in his faults.”

“Man, what the fuck,” Tommy breathes out, meeting Techno’s eyes, “Thats stupid as fuck! No way am I doing that shit.”

“You have to,” Wilbur says quickly, a panicked edge to his tone, “Lest you want to attract his attention. If he finds out you’re not pulling your weight then he will terminate you.”

“Death is a cruel man, cold, he does not tolerate disobedience. If you don’t listen to his rules, then he will kill you, and there's no coming back from that,” Techno says, his voice rumbling in his chest, and Tommy shivers.

“W— what? I don’t… I can’t murder people!” Tommy exclaims, taking in panicked breaths, “I— he can’t expect me to kill people!”

“You can’t think about it like that,” Techno says, “The souls you are given to hunt down are people who are supposed to be dead. So technically it is already too late for them.”

“That- I still can’t, Techno.” He says, his voice wavering, “I can’t kill,” He says, his hands shaking at the mere thought of having to kill someone. He doesn't want anyone else to go through what he did, not if he could prevent it.

“There’s no way around this,” Wilbur says, suddenly right in front of him, his hands planted on his shoulders. He’s got a serious look in his eyes, terror and fear swirling in them, with anger bubbling up behind the surface. “You can’t go against him.”

“Wilbur—“ Tommy tries but Wilbur cuts him off.

“No, Tommy, you have to do this, otherwise he will kill you,” Wilbur warns him, looking to Techno for support.

“He’s right, kid,” Techno sighs, his red eyes piercing, “You gotta do what he says.”

Tommy sinks further into the couch, opening his mouth to say something before clicking it shut. He doesn't know what to say, the looks on both of their faces make him nervous, scared— he doesn't want to kill.

“And— and if you don’t, then I’m going to have to make you,” Wilbur says, stuttering on his words, his eyes alive with a fire that burns and burns, swallowing his eyes whole, descending the world into chaos. It drags Tommy in, traps him within his gaze, makes him lean towards him.

“You— you can’t,” Tommy weakly says, but Wilbur just grins, something dark crossing his gaze.

“Oh, but I can, Tommy,” Wilbur sighs, reaching out and cupping his cheek, “Did you know that all Reapers get a special power to aid them in their hunts?” He asks, rubbing his thumb right under his eye.

Tommy shakes his head, he never heard anything about stupid powers.

“Well, my power is the ability to control others,” He says slowly, “And that includes other Reapers.”

Tommy eyes Wilbur with an uncertain look.

“Yeah right,” He huffs out, “Do it right now, prick.”

Wilbur’s grin just turns sharper, as his stormy eyes land on Techno.

“Techno, let Tommy go.” He commands, and Technos grip on his shoulders is gone, leaving Tommy feeling oddly exposed. Tommy gives Techno a confused look, Wilbur’s words bouncing around in his brain, goosebumps traveling up his arms.

Wilbur's voice sounds weird, like really weird— its got a certain honeyed lilt to it, his tone dragging him in, making him hang off of every word. The command weighs heavy in his mind, even if it wasn’t directed at him, consuming all his thoughts.

Wilbur turns his sharp gaze upon him, his swirling eyes narrowing on him as he grins, sickly sweet, the white streak in his hair standing out.

“Tommy, come here,” Wilbur sings out, and it's like Tommy’s drowned in it, suffocating on the command as his limbs move before his brain can even process what was happening. His words stick like glue in his mind, his head repeating it over and over, his sweat honeyed words trapping him, dragging down and down and down.

Before he knows it he’s in Wilbur’s arms, being held against his chest like the most precious thing in the world as he runs a hand through his hair, cooing softly to him under his breath.

Tommy clings onto Wilbur, his fingers clutching at his sweater so hard his knuckles were going white. His head is tucked under his chin, with Wilbur’s arms wrapped around him, trapping him in.

“Wil?” Tommy squeaks out, his voice sounding frail, small, compared to the words still bouncing around in his head.

Wilbur hums, his fingers trailing down his head and to his neck, stopping right where his pulse point would be.

“Do you believe me now?” He asks, his long spindly fingers trailing down his neck, all the way to his collarbone.

“Fuck you,” Tommy says, shivering at his touch as he whines, pressing closer to Wilbur.

Techno clears his throat from behind the two, Wilburs eyes snapping up to glare at him.

“Not cool, Wilbur.” He grumbles, running a hand through his pink hair as he recovers from Wilbur’s voice.

“Aw, is Techno sad his Tommy cuddles got cut short?” Wilbur teases, rolling his eyes, “Hm, good thing we can share.”

Techno just huffs, standing up, his red eyes pinned on the two.

“Alright, how about you two wind down and put on some tv. It's been a long morning for all of us,” Techno grumbles, going off into the kitchen.

Wilbur watches him go, the two of them not moving towards the couch. Tommy, for one, is still recovering from whatever weird mind tricks Wilbur just played on him, practically trembling in his goddamn arms like a scared dog.

Wilbur, like the smug bastard he is, indulges Tommy, holding him close, gently stroking his hair, letting him hide his face away in his chest.

Tommy just goes with it, finding solace in the actions as Wilbur holds him close.

~~~~

It's been a week since he… died.

Tommy’s adjusted pretty well, he would like to say.

Aside from the panic attacks, mental breakdowns, and vivid flashbacks, he’s doing pretty good.

He hasn’t gotten any… assignments yet, something about an adjustment period for new Reapers. Wilbur and Techno made him quit his job, which he was a little sour about, but he doesn't mind sitting at home all day napping or watching tv.

Being a Reaper now means he doesn't need sleep, or food, or water— or anything a normal person would need.

It was weird, and stupid and fuck— Tommy was still going to sleep just to waste away the hours.

He was at home right now, sitting in his bed, in one of those rare moments where both Techno and Wilbur were gone. Usually one of them stayed behind to watch after Tommy, no longer allowing him to be alone anymore.

He was just sitting in bed, sketching in his sketchbook, when a familiar presence invades his room.

He flinches, dropping his art book, his eyes pinned on the women in his room.

“Uh,” He says, scrambling out of his bed, his eyes meeting Kristin’s.

“Good afternoon, Tommy,” Kristin greets with a warm smile, as Tommy pats down his bed hair, giving her a surprised look.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, his eyes narrowing at her, yet her smile never falls.

“I am here to give you your first assignment,” She says simply, “And to explain some more things,” She adds on, and Tommy eyes her suspiciously, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

“Or, how about you fuck off and I get to live my life?” Tommy says, crossing his arms, giving her an annoyed look.

Kristin laughs, a soft chuckle, her eyes seemingly warm as they land upon him.

“Oh, no wonder my sons love you so much,” She says, and Tommy pauses, remembering what Wilbur and Techno said the other day.

“You’re their mom?” He exclaims, taking a step back, shaking his head, “No fucking wonder their so weird!”

Kristin splutters at that, giving him a confused look.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Just as it sounds, bitch,” Tommy snaps back, curtly nodding, while she fondly sighs.

“Well, Tommy, I would love to stay and chat, but unfortunately I do have places I need to be, so let's get this train rolling.” She smiles, snapping her fingers, and before Tommy can even blink they’re outside his apartment building, in the chill of fall.

Tommy jolts in surprise, whipping his head around as his eyes struggle to focus on his new surroundings. He feels slightly disoriented and dizzy, as Kristin places a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Tommy backs away from her when he gathers his bearings, giving her a nasty look, though she ignores him, strolling forwards and onto the sidewalk.

Tommy doesn't follow at first, wondering if she’ll just walk away, but she pauses, glancing back at him and smiling.

“Come on, now! You have an assignment you need to complete,” She says, waiting for him to catch up. Tommy eyes the people walking around them, very conscious of how he was still in his fucking blue pajamas.

“You could have at least let me get changed first,” He says, suddenly feeling very self conscious, taking a couple steps towards her. He should really just go back home, ignore all of this and wait for his brothers to get back.

But some part of him wants to follow her, to see what she has to say. No matter how hard Tommy tries to hate her or resent her he just can’t bring himself to hold anger for her long, so with a begrudging sigh he follows after her.

She smiles, the two walking in step with one another.

“Your appearance doesn't matter to them,” She says, “To humans you will appear as just a normal person, with normal clothes. Your role is to blend in, keep quiet, get the job done and leave,” She explains, and Tommy huffs, kicking a stone on the concrete.

“Yeah, but it still feels weird,” He grumbles, and Kristin gives him a look.

“Oh you’re fine,” She muses, the two of them moving through the streets, “Don’t worry about it. You will appear just as you’re supposed to.”

“Yeah, in my fucking pajamas?” Tommy huffs, getting a strange look from a person walking past. He sneers at them before continuing on his way, muttering under his breath. Kristin just softly laughs, continuing on until she stops, holding out her hand.

Tommy glances at her, nearly running into someone as he turns to watch what she was doing.

“Are you good?” He asks when nothing happens, and Kristin hums, her eyes scouring the skies. Suddenly a black bird appears out of nowhere, seemingly snapping into existence, cawing and making its way over to Kristin.

It lands on her outstretched hand, ruffling its black feathers, cawing as it cocks its head at Tommy, staring at him with its beady black eyes.

“Woah,” Tommy says, taking a step back as the crow caws, its head following Tommy.

“The crows will deliver your assignments,” Krisitin explains, gently petting its head with her finger, the black feathers shimmering in the sunlight, “All you have to do is touch it,” She says, holding out her hand to him.

Tommy warily watches the crow, as it caws again, flapping its wings in anticipation.

“Touch it?” He repeats, “Why?” He asks, just to be difficult.

“Touch him and you’ll see why,” She says with a smile, and Tommy huffs, though he reaches out with his hand and brushes along the feathers at its head. He was half expecting it to bite him, but the crow leans into his touch, clicking its beak.

“Nothings happening—“ He begins, but then freezes up at the new presence inside his head.

There is a wayward soul wandering the graveyards of L’Manberg. Bring it to me.

The voice is monotone, cold, flat and void of any emotion. It makes him feel off, goosebumps traveling up his arms as he yanks his hand back, his eyes going wide as he stares at the crow. The voice rattles around his head, the words forever engraved into his mind.

“What the fuck,” He breathes out, and Kristin laughs, stroking the crows head again.

“They will deliver Death’s messages to you,” She says, before tossing the crow up into the air. The crow caws, and flies higher up, though it never strays far from them. Her eyes linger on it for a moment before she starts walking again, humming softly to herself.

“After a crow comes to you, you have three days to complete its assignment for you,” She explains, the two walking down the street once again, “If you do not complete it in time, then it will be given to another Reaper, and the crow will report back to Death himself.”

“The crows are snitches?” Tommy asks, glancing up at the one in the sky.

She laughs softly, giving him a look.

“They take their jobs very seriously,” She muses, glancing back out in front of them, “I would suggest always completing your assignment right when you get one. There’s no telling how long one can take. Death does not tolerate any of his Reapers failing an assignment, as there will be consequences,” She warns him, and Tommy swallows nervously.

“That's a bunch of bull shit,” He mutters, “What is he? My fucking teacher?”

Kristin cracks a smile at that before sighing.

“I’m serious, Tommy,” She says, “Do not be late with any of them. You cannot attract Deaths attention, no matter what you do.”

Tommy scowls but says nothing, staring down at his feet.

“Reapers are also gifted a special power,” Kristin says after a moment of silence, “A unique ability suited for each Reaper.”

“Yeah?” Tommy says, “What's my power then?” He asks.

“That is something you have to figure out,” She smiles, and Tommy rolls his eyes, noting that they were coming up on a cemetery.

“How?” He asks with a grumble, and Kristin hums.

“It will come to you in your greatest time of need,” She explains, “That could be today or a year from now. It all depends.” She shrugs, and Tommy rolls his eyes. Great, he gets powers that he doesn't even get to use.

“Alright, focus now,” Kristin says, as she opens up the gate to the cemetery. It's a small plot of land sectioned off in the city, surrounded by trees and bushes. It was old, like some ancient shit, with weird names like JSchlatt and Quackity written on the gravestones.

Tommy has never been in this one before, on the well maintained grass, with about twenty gravestones on the plot. Huge oak trees and birches surround it, blocking out most of the city.

“People are gonna report us,” Tommy says to Kristin, “We’re not supposed to be here—“

“Hush,” Kristin says, “We are not like humans, they will never interfere with an assignment no matter how outlandish it is. We probably appear as inspectors right now, cleaning the gravestones, cutting the grass— it doesn’t matter,” She says, her eyes skimming over the graveyard.

“Your first assignment is catching a lost soul. They are like ghosts, really, and just need some help getting to the afterlife,” Kristin says, before her eyes land upon what they had been searching for.

“There— do you see it?” She asks, pointing at a shimmery figure as they come out from behind a tree. They float above the ground, with a blank expression on their face. Their body is see-through, tinted blue.

There is no shadow and there is no noise, as it passes through objects as if they hadn’t been there in the first place, a blank look on its face.

“We’re hunting a fucking ghost,” Tommy says, “We’re just like the ghost busters—“

“Come on,” Kristin says, walking up to the ghost thing, following it as it slowly floats away. “This one is docile, confused, one of the easiest lost souls to collect,” She hums, suddenly holding out a fucking dagger to Tommy.

“Take this,” She says, handing him the black and red item, ignoring Tommy’s shock, “This weapon will be your starter one. You can only use it on wayward souls and the marked dead.”

Tommy stares down at the dagger, at the black metal that seems to glow and shimmer, as if it was enchanted or some shit. The handle of it had black leather with red accents engraved into it.

“After a while you can ask for a different weapon, like a gun, or a sword, sometimes even a scythe, though those are rather impractical. I wouldn’t recommend one,” She explains, “All you have to do is just stab the ghost.”

Tommy gives her a look, testing out the weight of the dagger in his hand. He has never really used any sort of weapon before.

“Um okay,” He says, approaching the slow moving ghost, “I just— stab it?” He asks, feeling very uncomfortable right now. Kristin nods her head, giving him an encouraging smile. Tommy sighs, staring at the ghost.

It doesn't even acknowledge him, just floating right on by without a care in the world, nearly brushing up against Tommy.

He goes for it, stabbing the ghost in the chest with the dagger, though he feels like he was just stabbing air at this point. The ghost recoils, as if it had been burnt, before it slowly starts to fade away into nothing.

Tommy’s left there staring at nothing, dagger still in hand, and a dumb look on his face.

“Thats it?” He asks, and Kristin nods.

“See? Easy,” She says, “Lost souls are walks in the park. Even with hostile ghosts they can’t really hurt you, more so a pain in the ass to catch.”

Tommy nods, peering down at the dagger.

“Well that was fucking stupid,” He says, “You really need me to go around stabbing ghosts? What is the point?”

“It was an assignment. You should appreciate the easy ones when you get them.” She says, “Another assignment you will be given is to kill a person who was meant to die but didn’t.” She hums and Tommy tenses, his eyes snapping to her.

“Its basically the same as this, stab them until they are dead. They shouldn’t put up much of a fight—”

“There is no way I can kill a person!” Tommy exclaims, dropping the dagger as if it had burnt him, “I can’t- I can’t kill a person!”

Kristin gives him an odd look.

“Yes you can,” She says slowly, “And you will, you cannot refuse an assignment. Just think of it like taking out a lost soul. No harm no foul. You aren’t killing random nobodies, they were meant to die, they cheated the system. We have to restore the balance.”

Tommy just shakes his head, feeling panic crawl its way underneath his skin.

“I— I can’t,” He stutters out.

“You have too,” Kristin fires back, “Unless you want to be killed by Death himself, you have to do what he orders. There is no way around this.”

Tommy is quiet at that, biting the inside of his cheek as anxiety claws through his stomach.

Kristin sighs, glancing away from Tommy.

“Unfortunately you will get assignments that involve a living person. There is nothing I can do.”

Tommy withers under her look, his eyes pinned on the dagger on the ground.

“If you have any questions just ask Wilbur or Techno,” She says soflty, “Don’t interact with other Reapers. Some of them do not take kindly to newbies. Keep your head and your mouth shut. Stay off of Death’s radar, complete your assignments on time. If you ever need help finding a place ask the crow.”

Tommy closes his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He admits in a small voice. Kristin is quiet for a long time before she finally speaks.

“You have to try,” She says softly, “For Wilbur and Techno. Do it for them.”

Tommy looks up at her, at her kind smile.

“You’re not a murderer for killing the living dead, either.” She says, “It was fate they were supposed to die. You are just helping it along.”

That doesn’t make him feel any better, he was still killing a living person, but whatever.

“Good bye, Tommy.” She says, and then shes gone, leaving Tommy all alone in a fucking creepy ass old cemetery.

“Fuck.”