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"You did what to Tommy!?"
Tubbo was rightfully outraged, mouth agape from pure, unadulterated shock, and his hands were twitching into curled fists at his sides. His voice had heightened considerably too, going up more than just a few octaves and vividly matching the astounded expression that had splattered across his flushed face.
It was almost as if he'd gone through the five stages of grief all at once: denial, trying to brush off what Ranboo had said as a lighthearted joke; anger, a burning fury after realising that his husband was most definitely serious; bargaining, trying to swap information and come to a reasonable conclusion; depression, an overwhelming grief after having the whole situation laid out, and then...
And then acceptance.
(Actually, maybe that one hadn't come just yet.)
"Tubbo-"
"No, no, come on, what did you just say? Repeat it for me, Ranboo!"
The hybrid immediately flailed, large hands flapping through the arctic air as he hopped anxiously from one foot to another, and his lanky body appeared to be glitching in and out of weakly attempted teleportation's – clusters of purple sparks erupting from his mismatched skin with each shaky movement.
"Tubbo," Ranboo practically whined, lips down-turning, and a deep crease began to rapidly form between his furrowed eyebrows, "Tubbo, please, I just told you-"
"I need you to tell me again before I lose my goddamn mind, Ranboo."
The taller hybrid kicked at the ground, flurries of snow catching against one another in conjoining embraces before falling back against the softened flooring. He sniffled.
"I..."
"Yes. Spit it out."
A slight flinch.
There wasn't exactly proper anger or fury hidden delicately behind Tubbo's thick words – he wasn't seriously pissed, not really. He was more so... appalled, perhaps? Stupefied? Aghast? Confused at his husband's outlandish antics?
(Though honestly, even Ranboo couldn't blame him at that point, what he had done was pretty... out there, to say the least.)
Ranboo let out a breath.
And then another.
And then another.
And then-
"Okay, but it seriously wasn't my fault this time, it was just instincts, and I wasn't-"
"Ranboo!"
"...I locked Tommy in my vault!"
Tubbo blanched.
"Oh god."
The shorter boy let a hand drag down over his face, more than just a little exasperated and vexed as a loud (and long) sigh tumbled from his lips.
Of course, Ranboo had seriously gone and done that. What should have Tubbo genuinely been expecting? For Ranboo to shrug it off with a loud, guffawing laugh and a slight shake of his head? For Ranboo to pat Tubbo on the shoulder with an overly friendly grin and kindly berate him for falling for such a silly and childish joke?
Yeah, no, that would never have happened. Not in a million years.
Ranboo just wasn't the type of person to do that. He couldn't lie for shit, to begin with – couldn't lie to save even a single life (certainly not his own), and he was far too innocent and kind-hearted to try and even joke about locking Tommy of all people up in a vault.
In a rather inescapable vault, one that was closed-up and secluded, and similarly one that the younger teen would most definitely steal from the very moment that he got over the shock of an 8'5 rambling Enderman locking him up without a single explanation.
(Tommy would rain hellfire down upon the SMP when he found out what Ranboo had done, but first, he'd try to steal all of Ranboo's belongings. Typical, typical Tommy.)
"...And why exactly did you do this?"
Tubbo's brows raised, floppy ears twitching, and even his horns appeared to glint a little in the reflecting light. Ranboo gulped at the very sight – perhaps an arguably dramatic display of his dread at giving his husband a valid answer and explanation, but one that he felt needed.
"Well, well, uhm, haha," Sharp teeth sunk into a plush lower lip, and Ranboo offered up an awkward chuckle. "Funny - funny story?"
Tubbo only looked even more displeased (and rather impatient.) His hooved foot began to tap against the snowy ground, scowl more prominent and far starker than before.
“Ranboo.”
"Okay! Okay, I get it, just, uh, it's a long story, okay? It's not... completely straightforward."
A slight scoff.
"I really don't care how much time it takes as long as you come clean, and right now. I'm being serious, Ranboo."
The hybrid flailed again. "I know! I know, just," He huffed somewhat, defeat smeared across his – rather ashamed – features, and a slight hint of guilt had begun to wrap around his frantic heart in squeezing, gripping coils. "Okay, fine, so-"
Ranboo doesn't exactly know when his Enderman instincts had suddenly begun to hit full force – had begun to spread over his body like a raging wildfire, threatening to consume him whole and remove any sort of sanity that he was desperately holding onto.
He just knew that they had and that there was little to nothing that he could do to put a stop to them, not when they'd already started off so violently.
See, in all honestly, those instincts, those emotions felt like continuous, churning waves of demanding hisses and fierce growls – a bunch of festering, swirling, whirlpool-like sparks that were trying to force Ranboo into doing one thing, into going after one person, into following everything and anything that they forced him into achieving.
And Ranboo simply couldn't pull himself out of their grip, no matter how hard he tried.
No matter what he tried to focus on, whether that was mining or farming, whether that was trading or building, whether that was Tubbo or Michael, nothing seemed to work. Not when he'd already had his mind (and heart) set on something, at least.
And this time around?
(This time, when it wasn't a memory book; it wasn't an emerald; it wasn't even Technoblade.)
It was Tommy.
Tommy, with all of his spunk and spitting venom; Tommy, with all of his crazed ideas and lack of morals; Tommy, with all of his bravery and all of his fear.
Tommy, somebody who had made it very, very clear – very stark and very obviously clear – that he absolutely despised Ranboo's guts. He hated everything and anything that had even a single link back to the tall Enderman hybrid, be it a swaying Allium flower or a misplaced grass block.
If it could somehow resemble Ranboo? Then Tommy hated it.
Which made Ranboo's sudden, instinct-induced fixation on Tommy very, very challenging to deal with.
See, Ranboo wasn't precisely... himself... when his Enderman side 'took over,' so to speak.
For some reason, it was almost as if everything typical about him had been drained away – serenity replaced by thick concern; kindness replaced by overprotectiveness. Ranboo was some type of forceful and cold; he was crafty and sly, always slinking behind Tommy as the blonde went about his day, be it talking to Puffy or collecting more ores for his 'secret' collection hidden within Fundy's old home.
Ranboo couldn't help it.
It was just how his biology worked – how his brain told him to protect somebody that he deemed family.
He wanted Tommy to be safe. To be free from harm. To allow Ranboo to look after him as Ranboo did with all of his family and friends.
Tommy would be safe.
Tommy would be protected and loved and cared for.
(Well, hopefully.)
(Maybe?)
But, of course, when it came to actually trying to... look after... Tommy, it got a little tricky.
Tommy wasn't one to accept help. Not in the slightest. Not even when he was limping and cold, when he was bruised and bloody and barely holding onto consciousness, Tommy would still bat away at reaching hands and gentle acts of help and consideration.
He was typically tight-lipped but then also somehow incredibly venomous when it came to actions that he immediately took as 'pity.'
And Tommy, Tommy 'Careful Danger Kraken' Innit, wasn't one to accept pity very easily.
Not that Ranboo was trying to pity him or anything.
Of course, he felt sorry for Tommy; it was hard not to after everything that he'd been through. And of course, he felt guilty about what had happened with exile – what had happened within the courtroom and all that followed that situation, but Ranboo didn't pity him.
Tommy was too strong-willed and confident for Ranboo to actually pity the teen. But as usual, Tommy didn't see it that way.
Every time that Ranboo had tried to get close to the blonde, driven on by Enderman instincts and varying levels of frustrated concern, Tommy would force him away with a scoff and an awkward chuckle. There'd be an underlying threat concealed beneath the younger's words, "Come on, Ranboo, just go piss off alright? Don't you have a hotel to run or something?", one that offered war and fighting if Ranboo didn't do as he was told.
And Ranboo being Ranboo, typical, silly Ranboo, hadn't done what he was told, not even remotely, and instead continued to cluelessly trail after Tommy. Though, in the least stalker-like way possible, obviously.
Well...
Perhaps it did come off a little odd.
But Ranboo hadn't meant for it to look like that! He hadn't wanted to be creepy or come off too forward; he had just wanted Tommy to be safe. To be looked after for once, and if nobody else was going to do that, what was stopping Ranboo?
Other than Tommy's persistence to get away, obviously.
A persistence that had, unfortunately, driven Ranboo up the wall, both literally and figuratively.
He'd done everything in his (limited) power to get Tommy to just stick with him for a little while, at least until his instincts died down a little - not that he'd mentioned that part – but Tommy had simply just not listened.
The blonde teen had kept going about his day, performing dangerous stunts with chipped water buckets, clambering up large, unsteady towers to peer at the prison, and even having the nerve to mess around the Egg and its dangerously blood-thirsty followers whenever he felt like it.
In all honesty, Ranboo felt like having a heart attack more than once a day.
Perhaps two heart attacks.
Maybe three.
Four?...
In the end, Ranboo just couldn't keep up with it all. He felt as if his skin was constantly on fire, his nerves forever on edge and his tail flicking viciously behind him. Ranboo was tense with worry and shivering with fear – a fear for Tommy, mainly.
What if something happened and Ranboo wasn't there? What if he couldn't get there in time? What if Tommy got hurt and lost and he was alone, and Ranboo couldn't get there in time, so Tommy was-
Tommy was like a gem, and Ranboo needed to make sure that he would be okay.
(At least until the protective feelings went away. Probably.)
So, his great idea?
Lock Tommy up in his vault. Sort of. Just for a little bit.
It... sounded farfetched initially, a little bizarre and out there, but as Ranboo got closer and closer to quite literally breaking, it had started to sound far more logical.
Far more plausible.
Far more promising.
See, Ranboo kept pretty much everything that was personal to him in his vault. From his tools to his resources; from his Netherite armour to his totems. Whether sentimental or otherwise, anything that held value was kept secure and safe in his secret underground room.
And at the moment, Tommy was something that held a tremendous amount of value to Ranboo.
So, in the vault, he went.
Well, of course, it took a lot of planning beforehand, but eventually, Ranboo had managed it.
He'd managed to get Tommy there in one piece and with only a few minor bumps in the otherwise smooth road.
All Ranboo needed to do after that point was flick a lever.
Unsurprisingly, Tommy hadn't been expecting it, as the Redstone doors had slammed shut behind him, essentially locking him in without even a single prior warning. He'd been shocked at first, shouting and screaming and throwing around as many insults as he could possibly think of.
He'd been rude and vile, shocked and outraged.
But then he'd gotten evil.
He was leaning against the closed doors with a pulling smirk and a devious look. Tommy had gently knocked against the thick stone, brows raised, and shoulders hunched as he switched from insults to threats – threats of crying and wailing, of sniffling and whining.
Of turning into a pitiful, sobbing mess if Ranboo didn't let him out and soon.
Ranboo hadn't been able to take it.
He wouldn't be able to live with himself if Tommy started to cry. He just wouldn't be able to deal with the stress of it.
Ranboo had been more than just a little conflicted and perhaps on the verge of having a complete mental breakdown, so he'd decided to call up Tubbo, desperately looking for some moral support.
(Moral support that he hadn't gotten whatsoever, mind you.)
Which led him to where he was then - stood outside his home in the whipping cold with Tubbo and his varyingly condescending looks.
"You're genuinely fucking insane, big man."
Ranboo spluttered, face practically covered with splodges of bright red, and his large hands were flailing wildly in the air. "Tubbo!" A drawn-out whine. "I'm not insane! I told you it was a long story, and it's just hybrid instincts, I swear!"
Tubbo's arms crossed over his chest.
It was evident that the shorter boy was still incredibly displeased with the Enderman's - arguably very stupid - actions. There wasn't even a hint of amusement gracing Tubbo's sharp features as he regarded his husband through curling wisps of brown hair. If looks could kill, Ranboo would undoubtedly be a dead man.
"Go and let Tommy out."
This time, it was Ranboo's turn to blanch.
“Tubbo-”
“Ranboo.”
"Oh. But, but..."
But Ranboo didn't want to. Ranboo didn't want to whatsoever, actually.
"No buts. Go and let him out. Now."
Ranboo grumbled, and Tubbo's brows raised.
"Do I really have to?"
"Yes. Go and let Tommy out." Tubbo began to nudge his 8'5, towering and lanky partner over towards his home - and then hopefully down to his vault. "Oh, and make sure to check his pockets before you do; lord knows that half of your stuff has probably disappeared by now."
Ranboo blinked a little, confusion filling his thin being as he stumbled.
"Huh?"
Tubbo just smiled. "Didn't I tell you? Our Tommy's got sticky fingers."
(Ranboo would come to, quite quickly, learn that locking up Tommyinnit inside of a place filled to the brim with shimmering valuables was definitely, most certainly, 100% just not a good idea. Not if you wanted to keep your treasure intact, that is.)
Oh well. At least he knew for next time.