#-> “he loses thought. the sun finishes its course. hes losing breath and needs sleep”

[kerizaret]

Songs in my native language that make me think of my fave characters save me,,,

[loslentesdepedrito]

Que Vuelva (Hoy me muero yo)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (No Ellie in this)

Word count: 3.6k+

Summary: Joel doesn’t come home on his birthday; once he does, he tells you he’s been unfaithful.

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but the story starts after the Watches if you don't want to read them.

A/N: I wrote this before the show, so I used Joel from the game. Don’t worry, I made sure to change his eye color. I’m sorry in advance for this, but if it makes you feel better, I wrote it after I played TLOU2 and finished the part where Ellie walked through the house (don't look it up if you want to avoid spoilers). The poem 'Darkness', especially Line #6 gave me some inspiration for this, as did the song 'Que Vuelva' by Raulín Rodríguez. Unrelated, but I think line #7 fits perfectly with Joel and his studio (don't look it up if you want to avoid spoilers). Happy reading!

Warnings: ANGST, Post Outbreak, Infidelity, brief mention of Sarah’s death, hurt no comfort, vomiting.

September 27, 2023

Once again, as if caught in an unbreakable routine, your gaze becomes fixated on the alarm clock. The digits, their neon red hue, spell out the time: 6:41 A.M. Where is he? This question reverberates incessantly through your mind, an unrelenting echo that refuses to go away.

Gone is the mere worry that first clung to your heart; that emotion has long been overshadowed. What now courses through your veins is something far more primal, more gut-wrenching—it's fear. Its icy grip reaches out from the depths of your consciousness, its fingers coiling around your thoughts, squeezing out all traces of rationality. It's not just a mental grip, but a physical one as well, constricting your throat until each breath feels like a struggle. The haunting possibility of Joel's lifeless body hidden somewhere in the surrounding woods torments your every waking moment.

In a world where he is your anchor, the idea of his absence is enough to shatter you. This potential loss would be more than devastation; it would be death. The void left in his wake would engulf you, consume you. You had just learned to live without the people you love, losing Joel would be like dying all over again. You never intended for your entire universe to revolve around one man, but when the world you knew vanishes, what choice do you have? 

As the minutes drip like molasses, you stand as a sentinel, peering out through one of the double-hung windows in the dining room.

You are transported back in time to when you were a child, peering out the window, awaiting your parents' return from work. Only now, the scenario has shifted, and you're in a different role, anxiously waiting for the man you love. 

You look at the stainless steel kettle nestled in the corner of the room, and through its reflective surface, the weariness clinging to you becomes evident in the shadows beneath your eyes. Endless hours of wakefulness have exacted their toll, leaving behind a profound ache that envelops your body, but you force the sleep away.

Your gaze drifts back to the window, offering a view of the front porch that holds memories of wooden chairs – the same chairs where you and your fiancé would spend evenings together, accompanied by a small table and a lantern that had seen many a conversation. 

And beyond the porch, the mountains stand. The first light of day unfolds, painting the sky with a palette of rose and gold hues that blend into the lingering dark shades of the night. The early morning sun casts long shadows from the mountains, stretching across the town.

Seeking a break, you walk over to the dining table. You grab a chair from the table and position it in front of the window. Your feet have touched every inch of this room. With the possibility of needing to rush out in search of your fiancée on your mind, you decided to keep your shoes on. The room has seen it all—chairs moved, feet pacing, and your restless steps on the floral rug at the center of the room.

You should have searched for him earlier, you chastise yourself. When an hour had passed, and he hadn't come home, you had contemplated venturing out to find him. But, a lingering hesitation stopped you, his voice echoing in your mind—a memory of a past conversation with Joel.

Two months into your relationship, Joel wore a serious expression when he said he needed to talk. You couldn't shake off the fear that he might want to break up, and that thought made your heart clench. You were falling for him, and the idea of him ending your relationship left you with a deep ache. Later, he took you for a walk. But instead of ending things, he led you down Rancher Street, which left you confused. Eventually, you found yourselves in front of a house you had never seen before. A grayish house stood two stories tall, once likely a white or cream house before the world had gone to hell. You counted nine windows, the front door was painted red, and a white picket fence surrounded the perimeter of the house. To the right of the home, towering trees loomed, their height surpassing even that of the house. Uncertainty filled your mind about Joel's intentions for bringing you here. As your gaze lifted to meet his, you found him already looking at you.

"It's our house." He said, his gaze fixed on you in a trance-like state. 

"Our house?" You echoed, your confusion gave way to a smile.

He blushed, clearly flustered by his own words. "Shit, that's not how I meant to ask." He admitted.

"Do— I really— Tommy and Maria are about to have their baby, and I heard you were thinkin' ‘bout finding a new place," he stumbled over his words, "I want you to move in with me. Into the same room, I mean. Or, if you prefer, you could have your own room," he added hastily, his blush deepening.

"You're giving up your bachelor pad for me?" You teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"If you'd call living in a tiny windowless space with Old Man Jimmy a 'bachelor pad,' then absolutely."

"I probably shoulda asked ya if you wanted to move in together," he admitted, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice, "Is this moving too fast?"

"No, it's perfect!" you exclaimed, "I want to live with you. Same bed and everything."

"Really?" He responded, his disbelief evident.

You extended your hand, and he intertwined his fingers with yours. You guided him toward the staircase, your free hand held onto the dark railing. You walked through a path of flat rocks before you reached the door. A tan mat adorned with pine trees and the word 'welcome' in elegant black cursive greeted your feet. 

As Joel reached for the key, you found yourself stealing a moment to admire the intricate details of the door. The sight in front of you was nothing short of breathtaking. Your attention was drawn to the lovely features engraved into the entrance. The door had three windows in the center, and each side of the door frame was adorned with four panels of stained glass: —yellow, blue, white, and green tiles—each one delicately intertwined with lead lines forming pretty designs. 

Your attention then drifted to the doorknob, which stood as a work of art in itself. It was beautifully designed, with little circles nestled within larger circles.

He turned the key in the lock, allowing the door to swing open as you stepped inside. With a graceful motion, he gently closed the door behind you and locked it once more. The view that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

As your gaze swept across the entryway, a painting caught your attention. The artwork depicted what you assumed were Wyoming's mountains. Their peaks crowned with pine trees. Underneath the mountains, a small herd of oxen meandered.

Joel noticed your gaze fixed on the artwork and explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "Uh, it's not fully decorated yet. It came with most paintings, but we can change them if you want."

You shook your head, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "No, they're perfect." You assured him, your appreciation for the existing decorations clear in your voice.

To the immediate left, the living room opened up. An expansive bookcase adorned one wall, semi-full with some books and trinkets. In the center of the room, there stood a sofa, a coffee table, and a small end table. A worn, light-colored rug sprawled across the wooden floor, taking up almost the entirety of the floor.  

The wall beside the bookcase held a fireplace, flanked on either side by another pair of double-hung windows. Above the fireplace, a second painting caught your attention – an elk set against a backdrop of trees. To the right of the fireplace, against the second window, there was a console table with a flat-screen TV on top. The wall running parallel to the bookcase also had two windows with a bench underneath that stretched through the length of the wall. In addition to the other furniture, an armchair was set up so it faced the TV directly.

Joel fell even more in love as he observed the awe on your face while you took in your surroundings. You looked at the house as though it were a mansion in the Barton Creek neighborhood. Meanwhile, he would describe your newly shared home, for lack of a better word, as raggedy.

He had taken your hand and gently guided you to sit on the sofa. With a serious tone, he had said, "If I don't come back home, promise me you won't search for me, darlin'." He looked deep into your eyes before continuing, "If I don’t come back Tommy will come look for you. If I'm not here and anything goes wrong in Jackson, find a place to hide, or if you have to, just run. No matter what happens, don't ever look back." 

Two years had passed since he made you promise, but now the weight of worry had grown unbearable. What if he was hurt? That thought gnawed at your mind incessantly. Waiting was no longer an option; you had to search for him. You had kept your word, honoring the promise you made, but the time had come for you to look for him.

As you rise from your seat to grab your backpack, the sound of the door swinging open interrupts your movements. The wooden legs of the chair scrape against the floor, slicing through the momentary silence. Hurriedly, you make your way out of the dining room and are met with the sight of Joel stumbling at the entrance. 

Without a second thought, you propel yourself forward, your feet carrying you swiftly across the room. The wooden floor absorbs the sound as you move closer to him. When you reach him, your arms instinctively wrap around him. 

"Joel! Oh my god!" Your voice is a mixture of relief and concern. Your fingers find their place on his back, tracing patterns of comfort as if to erase whatever challenges he encountered throughout the night.

Your eyes lock onto his, searching for answers that his disheveled appearance can't provide. "Are you okay?" 

As your senses sharpen, you become acutely aware of a mix of scents clinging to Joel's form. The most prominent among them is the unmistakable stench of alcohol – a strong, potent aroma that hangs around him. But layered beneath this heady cloud of alcohol is a scent you've never smelt on Joel. The subtle smell threads its way through the overpowering aroma of liquor. 

His voice finally emerges from the heavy silence, "I need to tell you something," he admits. The vulnerability in his voice is a stark contrast to the Joel you thought you knew so well, and it draws you in even closer, your grip on him serving as both anchor and comfort.

His complexion takes on an unsettling pale color, and his eyes now glisten with a hint of moisture, as if teardrops linger just beneath the surface. "I slept with someone." His voice trembles, the weight of his confession causing it to break and quiver. As his confession settles upon you, you find yourself taking a step back, releasing your hold on him.

A strange sensation takes hold among your racing thoughts: the ringing in your ears. His confession has caused a vibration that fills you entirely, drowning out all other sounds. If he’s saying something, you don’t hear.

In the midst of his confession, a thought emerges, almost frantic: wake up, you think, this has got to be a nightmare. You plead with your subconscious to release you from this grip, to awaken you from a reality that feels too brutal, too surreal to be true.

But when you open your eyes, the room before you remains unchanged. Joel is still standing there.

Why isn't this working? Wake up, dammit! You tell yourself, desperation seeping into your thoughts. You open your eyes once more, and he's still there. Joel's presence is proof that this is, indeed, reality. The truth of his words looms over like a precipice you have been pushed toward, and there's no escaping it.

He moves closer to you, and you instinctively step back further.

His voice, heavy with guilt and remorse, breaks through, "I wish I could undo it." 

Your throat is dry, and your thoughts are a tumultuous blend of anguish and confusion as you battle to find your own voice. "How," your voice cracks, reflecting the confusion that you're feeling inside, "How... How could you do this?" You can feel the gaping hole in your heart that threatens to engulf you.

Joel's eyes are cast downward, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own regret. Slowly, they lift to meet your gaze. His voice is filled with his own ache. "I never meant for any of this to happen. It was a mistake, and I can't even begin to explain how sorry I am."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet his brown eyes, a tumultuous blend of anger, heartache, and confusion swirling within you. 

"A mistake?" Your voice trembles with a mixture of emotions, the words tinged with a bitter edge. "That's what you call this? A mistake is forgetting to set an alarm, not destroying a relationship!" 

“I was drunk!” Joel's voice rises, desperation lacing his words. “Baby, please!” His voice breaks in a frantic attempt to explain. He reaches out towards you, his hand outstretched in an almost pleading gesture. "It didn't mean anything. She d-"

His words cut off as you raise your hand, the gesture both a plea for him to stop and a shield against the words that seem to cut deeper with every syllable.

“Don't,” you cut in sharply, your voice slicing through the room like a blade. “Shut up! I don’t want to know anything about what you did.” You interject, your voice laced with anger and frustration.

His expression is one of desperation, his features contorted with regret and a plea for some understanding. "I messed up, I know," he continues, his voice now a softer murmur, "But I love you. I've always loved you. This was a moment of weakness, a terrible lapse in judgment. Please, let me make it right," he implores, his voice cracking with sincerity.

You're silent. 

His gaze doesn't waver, and his words carry an urgency, a promise of change. "I swear I'll be better. I'll only go out for patrol, and I- I'll make sure I get paired with a guy." The words tumble from his lips, his desperation palpable in every syllable. He's reaching out, trying to grasp any sliver of hope to mend the fracture that has torn through your relationship.

But his words hang heavy in the air. They're like a stone lodged in your throat, blocking your own voice, your own emotions, your own decision.

"I am so sorry," Joel's voice quivers with regret, his admission heavy with the weight of his actions. "It was the anniversary... The tenth year since... since Outbreak day," His explanation tumbles out, his voice a mix of remorse and self-loathing. "I needed to get away, to forget for just a moment. I had too much to drink-"  

“And you think I didn’t want to forget too? But instead, I was in our home waiting for you so I could be there for you."

The words poured out of you like a flood of emotions and anger that had been simmering beneath the surface. The air in the room is tense, your voice like a crackling lightning bolt piercing the silence.

“I lost my little girl!” He roars, his voice a mixture of anguish and rage as if the dam holding back his own pain has finally broken. The rawness of his grief crashes against the walls, filling the house with an intensity that matches the storm of emotions raging within both of you.

"I lost people I love too!" You countered, your voice a desperate cry.

His response was sharp and unyielding, dismissing your pain. "It's ain't the same."

"But I lost everyone! Everyone!" The anguish in your voice reverberated, and your words shifted, now infused with a desperate need for him to comprehend your own loss. "I lost everyone."

"I FUCKING THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! AND YOU... YOU WERE..." Your voice cracked, tears streaming freely as your emotions overwhelm you. 

A sickening wave surged within you, a physical response to the intensity of the moment. The sensation of nausea clawed at your insides. With a surge of urgency, you run to the downstairs restroom just down the corridor. As your hand reached the door, you swung it open and entered the restroom, eyes locking on the toilet bowl. Instinct guided your trembling fingers to the lock, a definitive click reverberating through the small space as you secured the door. 

Clutching your hair with your left hand, you pulled it away, desperately seeking to clear your line of vision. Your body heaved with an overpowering force, and you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. The guttural sound of retching mixed with the acrid taste of vomit, further intensified the nausea. It was a cycle of discomfort, each bout of vomiting seemingly triggering another.

For a fleeting moment, you believed you had regained control. But one glance at your left hand, the engagement ring glinting, was all it took to trigger another surge of vomiting. 

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks. The dampness on your skin carried an uncomfortable sensation. The tears themselves were leaving a trail of itchiness in their wake. The itchiness, an almost prickling sensation, added an extra layer of discomfort.

Joel's attempts to enter the restroom were met with the firm resistance of a locked door. The urgency in his movements was evident, and you thought he would kick the door open, so you managed to muster the strength to utter, "Don't come in." before throwing up some more.

Finally, the relentless waves of vomiting stop, leaving you drained and spent. Gasping for air, you found yourself on the restroom floor, your knees sinking into a soft blue U-shaped mat. With a slow, deliberate motion, you crawled toward the opposite wall. Your body leaned into the wall, knees drawn close to your chest.

Hugging your knees to your body, your body trembled with the sheer weight of emotions that surged through you. Your sobs became a haunting soundtrack for you and Joel who could hear everything.

You don’t know how long you stay there. You can feel the hot steam from the restroom's ventilation issue around you. You don’t know what’s more suffocating the hot air or the pain.

Why? Why did he do it? The question echoed within your mind, a relentless question that seemed to have no definitive answer.

Eres valiente. Siempre lo has sido, (You're brave. You've always been) a voice emerged from the depths of your thoughts, a reassuring whisper that ignited a spark of resilience within you. The words gave you a newfound strength, enough to coax your exhausted body to rise.

Standing before the bathroom sink, toothbrush in hand, you summoned the determination to get rid of the taste of vomit. As the water flowed and you scrubbed away, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. Disheveled was an understatement. Your once-neat hair had become a mess, with small strands clinging to your forehead due to the sweat that coated your skin. Dark circles clung beneath your eyes, and bloodshot eyes stared back at you. The traces of dried tears ran from your eyes all the way to your neck. The fabric of your shirt bore faint damp spots thanks to your tears.

Cupping your hands, you collected a handful of water and brought it to your face, the cool liquid splashing against your skin is refreshing. Your fingers find the white towel that hung on the wall, and you gently wiped it away. Inhaling deeply, you focused on the rhythm of your breath, allowing it to steady your racing heart until you felt a semblance of composure return.

Turning the doorknob, you push the bathroom door open, revealing Joel's figure. His expression is a mix of concern and relief, his eyes trace the contours of your form as you emerge from the restroom. 

As your eyes met him, a violent rush of emotions surged within you, the floodgates of the intensity you had repressed, suddenly open. Uncontrollable tremors shook your body, and Joel's instincts took over. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace.

Don’t touch me. You want to say, want to scream, but you can’t vocalize anything.

You feel Joel’s tears fall onto you, and their warm touch only seemed to amplify the storm that surged within. Your cry becomes heavier, your body convulsing with the force of your sobs.

“I love you.” Joel says. 

Immediately, your throat knots, the pain excruciating. The weight of his words and the depth of your own emotions leave you speechless, so the only thing you can manage is a small nod. 

He realizes you don't say it back and he says it again, his voice a soft echo of love and regret as he looks into your eyes. But you're beyond words at this point, your own pain and anguish welling up until you can only scream into his chest, mourning. 

Extended note: Thank you for reading! I apologize for any grammatical errors, English is not my first language, but I promise I did try. 

​​Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them! I promise I'll try to engage more!

(edit: I accidentally copied and pasted the wrong file, so the graphic is different)

Taglist: @mishasminion360

[genshin-no-simp]

Diluc x Reader - Birthday Boy (Smut)

Pairing: Diluc x You/Reader (Female)

Sexual conent below the cut

Warnings: semi-public sex, tummy bulge? fluff ending.

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

It took a weeks worth of preparation on your part to get everything in place, all for this one day. This one special day. But it was worth it.

After all, Diluc did deserve rest on his birthday.

You made sure there was nothing that needed doing, nothing that warranted Diluc to leave the comfort of the Manor. You were exhausted but you knew this was only a fraction of the work that Diluc did. It was your motivation to make sure everything was in order, of course with the help of Elzer and Adelinde.

And when the night before his birthday approached, you reassured him that he could take this chance to sleep in for once. Diluc wasn't against the idea but he wasn't sure if his body clock would allow him to sleep in. But little did he know, he was exhausted and only once he hit this pillows did he realize this.

When Diluc had finally woken, he groaned softly bringing his hand up as he ran his fingers through his unruly morning hair, that's when he noticed you weren't beside him. In an instant he shot out of bed, looking around. You never got out of bed before him. About to leave the bed himself his door opened and your figure came into view. You were still in your night dress. Diluc sighed in relief, then raised his eyebrow at the tray.

"What's this?" His voice low and husky since he had just woken up.

You weren't going to lie, his voice was enough to set a fire burning inside you. But today was about him. You smiled with a giggle.

"What does it look like? Breakfast of course. So sit back in bed." You came to his side of the bed.

From this close up Diluc could see properly just how little your night dress left to the imagination. Then he realized, you went to the kitchen like that, and he frowned, anyone could have seen you, which seemed to pissed him off.

"Don't worry I had the kitchen to myself, only Adelinde, Moco and Hillie are here at the moment." You knew what was running through his head. Diluc had a tendency to get overly possessive sometimes. But it's one of his faults that you fell in love with regardless.

Diluc looked away, half embarrassed and half ashamed that you knew without a doubt that he didn't want other people, especially men to see you like this. You gave another soft giggle setting the bed table down.

Diluc cleared his throat and looked at you, "what's the occasion?" He then lowered his gaze to the food and didn't know where to start, everything looked so enticing. He smiled at the eggs that you put a little extra effort in to make look like hearts.

You sat on the opposite side of him careful not to knock the glasses of grape juice over on the tray. You gave a little hum.

"Well what day is it?" You asked him instead. Diluc tilted his head, pulling the fork from his mouth. Once he was finished chewing he spoke.

"Friday." He stated matter of factly.

"Yes, but what date is it?" You cocked your head to the side, watching him. He totally forgot about his birthday didn't he? You thought to yourself.

"Um..." Diluc didn't know why but he felt pressured, as if you would give out to him, if he got this wrong.

Was it your birthday? No that's not till a few months.

Was it your anniversary? No that just passed.

At this point you were struggling to keep your laughter in.

"Luc, come on. It's your birthday." You rolled your eyes laughing.

Then it clicked, it suddenly made sense, from why you told him to sleep in, to breakfast in bed.

"That's it?" He asked, indifferently.

"What do you mean 'that's it's? You only get one birthday, and I'm going to make sure you get the most out of it." Diluc could hardly deny you, not with how passionate you were about it. But it's just another day, birthday or not.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but there's still work-"

"I do believe there is nothing for you to do today. Everything is already taken care of. It's you day." This time you were much more calmer as you smiled sweetly at him.

Now he definitely couldn't say no. He had a feeling you did a lot to get him this day of peace. Besides it's been so long since he's actually celebrated his birthday. Not that he cared to remember it considering what happened all those years ago...but maybe now is the time to move on from that, it's getting real tiring anyway.

Diluc smiled at you, yes from now on he will celebrate his birthday with you.

Diluc had to admit, it was nice, having all this free  time AND getting to spend it with you. The two of you spent most your time outside, walking through the vineyard and occasionally eating a grape or two, at one point you started playing hide and seek. Instead of finding it childish, Diluc found it oddly refreshing. Just being able to let loose for once.

Currently he was hiding, making sure to keep his eye out for you and staying on the move, it was cheating of course but it added to the fun, but you were an expert at hide and seek and knew all the tricks in the book. Just as he turned around, you seemingly popped out of nowhere.

"Found yooou~" you giggled tackling him into a hug.

Caught of by both your sudden appearance and the hug he fell backwards onto the ground.

"Thought you could escape me huh?" You nuzzled into his neck.

Diluc chuckled holding you close to his body.

"I thought I would've had a better chance than that." He admitted.

You sat up on his chest, while he propped himself up his elbows. The light from the sun creeped through the cracks of the vineyards many grape pergolas. It wasn't the most private of places but nobody would notice the two of you unless they looked.

Cupping Diluc's cheek, you leaned down to kiss him, which without hesitation he accepted. It was a delicate kiss, both of you could feel the love and affection that you held for each other. It was truly something.

When you went to pull away from the kiss, Diluc pulled you back for more, shifting his weight onto his left arm, his right arm snaked around your waist his hand pressing agaisnt the middle of your back, giving you no chance to move. Diluc wasn't done with you just yet.

Gripping his shoulders you pushed him back down onto his back, Diluc gave a mental sigh finally able to take the pressure off his left arm. Now he had both his around wrapped around you securely. He made you feel so safe, you never wanted to leave his arms but lucky for you, he wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

It wasn't long before his hands started to wander, touching and caressing your body. Soft gasps and pants escaped from you, Diluc used every opportunity to dive into your mouth. The intensity of the kiss was making you lightheaded, but in a good way. Your body burned and your heart was racing. You could tell Diluc was the same, you could feel his heart pounding against his chest right under your hand, not only that but at how brazenly he lifted your pale mint dress up to touch your bare skin. It made you shudder, Diluc had opted to be gloveless today, it was certainly a change in pace compared to his usual leather. Being able to feel his skin on yours right away was making you feel impatient.

Finally allowed to pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva followed. Diluc gazed at you with hooded eyes, his normally bright ruby eyes, dark and heavy with lust. You licked your lips, sitting up on him once again. One of the straps on your dress slipped down your shoulder. Diluc held back his growl and his urge to flip you over. You weren't even trying to seduce him and he was already under your spell.

Gripping your thighs he pushed you lower down until your clothed womanhood rubbed against the bulge in his pants. You failed to catch the moan before it fell from your lips. Diluc smirked, knowing you were just as excited as he was right now.

Diluc was planning on teasing you some more before you had decided to take back some control. Abruptly you grinded yourself against him, biting your lip. It was Diluc's turn to let out a surprised moan as his hips bucked up into yours.

"Ah~ Diluc." You fumbled for his belt buckle. If Diluc wasn't as impatient he would've chuckled and teased you. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the free time or maybe it was just you. But he wasn't complaining. Diluc hissed in relief, feeling his member finally free of its painful confinement.

You were going to lower yourself further but he grabbed your arm pulling you into a kiss.

"No time for that." He breathed heavily between kisses. Of course there was time he just wasn't interested in that right now, he just wanted you, in which case he used his Vision to burn the sides of your underwear and discard the rest.

Now with your underwear out the way, Diluc could feel how wet you really were. It was cute how excited you had gotten without any foreplay, perhaps the fact that you were technically out in the open played a part but regardless, he was happy that it was him who made you feel like this.

You moaned against the kiss feeling the tip of his member push against your awaiting hole. Breaking away from the kiss you pushed down against him, taking him all in at once.

"Fuck!" It was so strange hearing Diluc swear but it filled you with a strange sense of pride knowing you were able to break his nobility.

The stretch of taking him all at once burned but it felt good. It was certainly much greater compared to when he would prepare you first. But you weren't complaining at all. Tilting your head back with a moan you began to bounce up and down, your slick made it easy to slide up and down. You gripped the front of Diluc's shirt for support as he snapped his hips up into yours. A series of wanton moans escaped your lips, the harder and faster Diluc went.

Your head fell forward your eyes glossy and your pupils blown wide with pleasure. Now both your dress straps had slid down your shoulders, making Diluc lose his mind. He gripped your hips so tight, there wasn't a doubt that there would be fingerprints even through the dress. You choked on your moans as you swore you could feel Diluc in your stomach. He was reaching places you never thought possible, or your were so drunk on pleasure it just felt that way, but it didn't matter what was the truth, it was fantastic.

"Ngh, haA~ mm close..." you struggled to get the words out.

Diluc grunted thrusting upwards even faster, you had struggled to keep up before but now it was just impossible. It wasn't long before you came all over him. Diluc wasn't too far behind, feeling your release edged him into his, you felt his hot seed fill you up more than your already were, you threw your head back with a shameless moan of his name. You were certain everyone around and in the Manor had heard you. But Diluc didn't care, let them know who was and had made you feel good.

You panted heavily as your body shook from the after math of your orgasm. Diluc too was desperately gasping for air as he came down from his high. Letting a soft puff of air, you looked down at Diluc and grinned leaning in to kiss him. He chuckled kissing you back.

Getting off Diluc he fixed his pants as you picked up what was left of your underwear.

"Luc." You pouted, "you ruined my panties." You huffed and rubbed your legs together, you could feel some of his cum dripped down your thigh.

"My love, they were ruined before I even touched them." He winked with a cocky smirk.

Your face flushed a deep crimson as you looked away from him, Diluc smiled wrapping his arm around your waist tenderly.

"Come on, let's go take a bath." He smiled gently, ushering you back towards the Manor. You snuggled into his side contently.

During the short trip back inside, not one of the employees dared to look in your direction. Instead of it making you feel better you felt embarrassed. You weren't surprised that they heard you but they didn't have to make it so obvious.

"Luc, nobody would look at me." You sounded more mortified than you intended as you pulled your dress off, which only added to Diluc's amusement.

"Good, they shouldn't be looking at you in the first place." He stated stripping himself of his own clothes.

Upon returning to Diluc's private quarters, you were both pleasantly surprised by the already drawn bath, with scattered rose petals and scented candles. It seems Adelinde knew exactly what the two of you needed. You were the first to settle into the bath despite Diluc's confusion, usually he got in first so you could rest against him, it felt weird that he was resting against you.

"Are you sure I'm not too heavy against you?" It was the fourth time he asked now.

"Oh for Celestia's sake Luc, I'm not made out of glass, I'm fine. But you won't be if you keep asking." At least you gave him a warning which he took to heart, despite not having a Vision yourself, you were very capable of looking after yourself.

"Alright, alright." Diluc sunk a little lower into the tub, his head now resting between your boobs.

"Oh." He said softly, he hadn't expected this to be so comfortable. You giggled softly.

"Someone looks content." There was a lot of fondness in your voice that made Diluc's chest flutter. He let out a soft hum and closed his eyes when he felt your fingers massage some herbal shampoo into his scalp.

Diluc couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have someone like you. Someone so caring and aware of his needs. He didn't expect to meet someone like you, or anyone in general for that matter. He thought he was going to be alone, forever, and he was okay with that. Until he had met you, he didn't at the time realize just how important you would be to him, but he knows now and he's incredibly grateful towards you and towards himself, for letting him step out of his comfort zone and let someone in again.

Before he knew it, Diluc had fallen asleep, between the soothing heat of the water, your massaging and the sweet sound of your voice, they had all lulled him into sleep.

"Luc? You listening?" You asked softly, "Luuuc~" you cooed. Perplexed with his quietness, you tilted your head to the side to peer into his face, where you noticed he had fallen asleep. You grinned with a giggle.

You were so preoccupied with talking, you didn't notice the change in his breathing, as it steadied out. But now you didn't know what to do. You knew you couldn't stay in the bath but you didn't want to wake him either. But you also knew the water wouldn't go cold anytime soon thanks to Diluc, placing a kiss to his damp hair, you decided to let him sleep for a little while longer. After all he deserved it.

[sukirichi]

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

[nojey]

fans

dream x streamer!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.4k

warning(s): cursing, failed relationship, throwing things out of anger

synopsis: (y/n) and dream met through a mutual friend and their own friendship begins to blossom on its own. they start talking more and more and the feelings they have for one another grows so much more than either of them imagined. but as they stream together, they realize how much hate they’ve started to get and rethink whether or not they should be together or not.

looking back on it, meeting dream was one of the best days of your life. that day, your friend, sapnap, had introduced you to one of his friends and from that day forward, a beautiful relationship bloomed. not a single one of either of your viewers knew you two had become friends and it was nice; keeping something to yourself from a whole community that knew almost everything about you. you both went from talking every once in a while, to every week, to every other day, to almost all day, everyday. you grew to know pretty much everything about each other, where he grew up, how his childhood was like, everything from his favorite color to what he feared the most. and as you got to know him more, your feelings for him just grew so much more than you had ever imagined. and you hoped he felt the same way about you.

when he asked you if you wanted to facetime, you were shocked. you guys were only ever either in a discord call, regular call, or texting. granted it had been about 7 months since you both became friends, but you didn’t need to know what he looks like. you like him for the person he is, how caring and attentive he is to his friends, how witty his personality is and how cocky and confident he is. you like him for the passion he has in his heart for the people and things he loves. you never had to see his face to know these things about him. but because you knew this was a big step in your friendship, you accepted. him even asking you to facetime meant so much to you. 

he called you with his phone facing the ceiling and you had propped up yours so your upper body was on full display. “clay, you know you don’t have to show me your face? if you’re not ready to, you don’t have to.” you told him. “i’m more than ready to show you what i look like, (y/n). you’re an important person in my life and i want to show you.” he replied. “okay.. if you’re really sure. i just hope you know that whatever you look like, it will not change my opinion of you.” you assured him. “i know, (y/n).” he chuckled. “which is how i know i’m ready to show you.” you smiled. your heart warmed knowing that he trusts you this much. “whenever you’re ready, clay.” you said. “close your eyes,” he said. you did what he asked of you and you heard shuffling. he let out a breath, grabbed his phone and propped it up so you could see his face. 

“you can open your eyes now.” he said. you slowly opened your eyes and your breath got caught in your throat as you fully saw him. “wow..” you whispered, still examining his face. “you’re really pretty, clay.” he started blushing and said, “stop staring, you’re just going to fall in love with me.” laughing a bit. you started blushing too and looked away. both your reasons for blushing may have been different, but you knew you were blushing because what he said was true. 

for the rest of the night you both stayed up until 3am talking about anything and everything, getting to know each other more than you already did.

the day you both streamed together was about 4 months later. the internet went crazy. your viewers and his had absolutely no idea you two had known each other but they saw the way you two talked to each other; they knew you sounded like you were talking to your soulmate. you didn’t have to watch what you said, you laughed out to your hearts content, you both teased each other in such a flirtatious manner that it didn’t take them long to start thinking you guys were in a relationship. 

but with the people who supported you, there were twice as many people who hated the idea of you two together. at first it was bearable, neither of you cared about the hate because you were happy with where you both were with each other. clay was confident that you felt the same way about him that he had for you. he fell in love with you and you knew you had fallen in love with him too. 

a few weeks after your first stream together, he asked you if you wanted to fly to florida to meet him in person and you immediately said yes. you started packing your bags and by next week, you were on your way to meet the guy of your dreams. 

when you landed, he was already there waiting for you and when you got to baggage claim you saw him and immediately recognized him. you ran up to him and gave him the tightest hug ever; you were finally in his arms. the height difference was evident and he had to lean down a bit to hug you but he felt so content with you being there, in his arms. 

“you’re really here..” he whispered. “i’m here, clay. i’m here.” you assured. tears started slowly falling down your face and you buried your face deeper into his chest, taking in the warmth that was filling you. clay started crying too, thinking how lucky he was to be able to hold you close to him.

the day after you flew in was the one year mark of you two becoming friends so you went out to celebrate. throughout the day you guys reminisced back to the nights you both stayed up till the sun rose just talking and created new memories as you adventured through orlando. when it was around 3pm clay drove you to the beach to witness the sunset and you arrived just when the sun was kissing the water. you looked around the beach and saw no one but a beautiful set up with roses on the sand. you looked at clay with a surprised expression, he smiled, took your hand and lead you to where the roses laid. he brought you to stand in the middle of it and took both your hands in his,

“(y/n), when sapnap introduced us i never knew you would be such an important person in my life and i couldn’t be more grateful for you. you have helped me through my darkest times, celebrated with me in my happiest, been patient with me when i was being insufferable, stood by me during the most boring days and acted like you were having a blast when it was only just us talking. you’ve shown me that i can let myself be who i am without caring what any other person had to say about me. there’s so many words that i can’t put together right now because that’s how you make me feel. you make me feel so nervous when i’m around you and all the words in my head just get mixed up and i never know what to say. but i do know that right now, i’m trying to ask you on a date. so (y/n), will you go on a date with me?” by the time he was done with his speech you were close to tears. “of course i’ll go on a date with you clay.”

the night of your date had been the most magical night of your life. in the day you both went to disneyworld and at night he brought you to a hill top to, once again, watch the sunset while you both ate dinner on the hood of the rental car he got. everything was so perfect, it was the best date you’ve ever went on. 

he was an absolute gentleman, not letting you pay for your things, opening the door for you, pulling you closer to him when someone got too close to you, treating you like you were a princess and you couldn’t have asked for a better guy to be with. 

after you both finished your dinner you just laid down on the hood of the car and stared at the stars, talking about a future you wish had come true. that night you shared a kiss that would be remembered through the horrid months to come.

the day you left orlando, you didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw clay in person. when you got home you talked like normal, already speaking about a second date the next time either you or he visited. you both missed each other like crazy and you believed you would see each other very soon.

you streamed together more often and no one was blind to the smitten words you both shared, to the adoration dripping in your voices. so many people hated it and you never understood why, was it because they thought you weren’t good enough for him? because they were so protective over him? did they just hate you? so many questions filled your mind when your phone ringing brought you out of it. you reached for your phone and saw that clay wanted to facetime. you answered with a smile on your face, “hi clay!” but it soon dropped when you saw the solemn look that fell upon his. “is everything okay?” you asked. he sighed and said, “we need to talk.”

and everything fell apart.

the next words that came out of his mouth broke your heart. “i don’t think we should continue dating, or maybe even being friends.” you could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked around your room, trying to understand why this would come up all the sudden. “what do you mean?” you asked, slightly laughing hoping he was playing some sick joke on you. but when you kept looking at his serious face, you understood he wasn’t and your tears finally fell. he looked at you and his eyes glossed over. 

it hurt him knowing he was hurting you; the most important person in his life, the person he believed he would get married to and grow old with, the person he stayed up, losing sleep for just to get to know because you were worth that and a million more. 

“i know you see all the hate we’re getting. and that’s only us streaming together. what happens when they find out we went on a date or if we do start dating, what would the fans say?” he said, no longer looking at you through his screen. “why do you care about what they’ll say about us?” you whispered. “look at me, please.” he slowly looked back at the screen to see your face full of tears and that’s what finally broke him.

“our fans. they hate seeing us together, we can’t disappoint them. we can’t dissatisfy them. i know your fans mean the world to you and mine mean the world to me too.” he said, wiping his tears away, wishing he could just wipe yours, kiss your cheek and tell you everything would be okay. “but we can make it work, we won’t stream together as much or at all anymore. we can be like how we were before they knew we were friends! we can make it work clay..” you said. he started getting frustrated, just wanting this to be over with so he didn’t have to see you so hurt anymore.

“i can’t keep going on with my fans hating the relationship i’m in (y/n)! i can’t keep seeing my fans hate you because of me! i can’t keep making my fans mad at me because i have a stupid little crush on you!” he raised his voice. the last sentence hurting you more than anything. and he saw that in your facial expression, immediately regretting it. 

“no, (y/n). i- i didn’t mean it like tha-” you cut him off. “a stupid little crush? is that all i was to you clay? a stupid little crush? so what, that whole year we spent getting to know each other was you just having a stupid little crush on me? you asking me to fly to forida to meet you, was that you just having a stupid little crush on me? me actually flying all the way to florida to meet you, did you think i just had a stupid little crush on you? did you think me saying yes to going on a date with you was me just having a stupid little crush? what, did that date mean nothing to you? did that kiss mean nothing? did you not mean anything you said to me the night you asked me on that date? because i meant every single thing i said to you clay. you’ve impacted my life so much in such a good way, but i guess you didn’t feel the same way. was i just a joke? just someone to play with while you were bored?” you asked, not wanting to believe what he was saying. 

“no, that’s not what i meant.” he sighed. “then why can’t we work things out!? i don’t understand, clay. if you really did mean everything you told me on that beach then why aren’t you trying harder for us?” you asked, disappointment dripping through your voice. “because i just don’t think we’d work out okay!” he yelled at you. neither of you spoke, just looking at each other. he saw the nasty glare and look of hurt wash over your face. “that’s all you needed to tell me.” you whispered. 

you hung up and as soon as the call was disconnected you sobbed. you cried your eyes out. the guy you were in love with made you believe he wasn’t in love with you. you were absolutely devastated and you didn’t know if you’d ever be as happy as you were with him.

---------

in florida, sat a man with his phone clutched in his hands, tears streaming down his face that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon. he whispered, “what have i done?” he screamed, he threw things, broke picture frames, punched the wall. but doing all those things would never bring you back to him.

---------

twitter

(y/n): hey everyone! i think i’m going to take a break from streaming and all social media for a few months. i don’t really want to go into detail right now but maybe if i come back i’ll explain everything. until then i hope all of you stay healthy and hopefully i come back eventually, i love you all :]

————

authors note:

you guys!! there will be a part 2, send me an inbox or a message if you want to be on the tag list !!

[cdroloisms]

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi) 

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete. 

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now. 

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news. 

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright. 

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now. 

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots. 

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine. 

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?) 

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all. 

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen. 

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it. 

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs. 

“Michael!” 

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air. 

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!” 

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves. 

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands. 

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?” 

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.” 

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice. 

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices. 

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return. 

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest. 

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all? 

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands. 

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team. 

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs. 

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!” 

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation. 

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return. 

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak. 

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?” 

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time. 

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?” 

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?” 

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in. 

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?” 

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud. 

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.” 

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.” 

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter. 

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.” 

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream. 

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for. 

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena. 

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops. 

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again. 

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!” 

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up. 

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge. 

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway. 

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.” 

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.” 

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out. 

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best. 

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail. 

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly. 

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.” 

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions- 

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?” 

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. 

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps. 

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well. 

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to. 

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before. 

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Like you did that much.” 

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye. 

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs. 

“Fair.” 

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow. 

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future. 

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever. 

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team. 

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits. 

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they? 

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body. 

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well? 

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further. 

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him. 

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own. 

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?” 

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words. 

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.” 

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?” 

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s  worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red. 

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?” 

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome. 

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break. 

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain. 

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” 

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own. 

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake. 

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point. 

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.” 

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.” 

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time. 

Keep your head down. 

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.” 

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race. 

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!” 

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.” 

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings. 

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?” 

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.” 

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs. 

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?” 

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back. 

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?” 

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!” 

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition. 

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down. 

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it. 

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap. 

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter. 

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder. 

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own. 

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it. 

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off. 

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off. 

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak. 

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod. 

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams,  watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team - 

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering  into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena. 

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?” 

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners. 

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route. 

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out. 

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused. 

“Gottem.” 

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting. 

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them. 

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby. 

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?” 

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective. 

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second - 

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!” 

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own. 

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue. 

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay. 

The smile slips off his face. 

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on. 

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what? 

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply. 

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it. 

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity. 

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all. 

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow. 

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down. 

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red. 

---

“What the hell was that?” 

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence. 

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look  above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-” 

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?” 

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter. 

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-” 

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?” 

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?” 

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features. 

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“...liar.” 

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down. 

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward. 

“Quackity!” 

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-” 

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops. 

“LET’S GO!” 

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows. 

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time. 

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself- 

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.” 

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?” 

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder. 

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp. 

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention. 

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.” 

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.” 

“Thanks for everything, Scott.” 

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.” 

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?” 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?” 

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.” 

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him. 

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.” 

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached. 

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.” 

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.” 

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure. 

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?” 

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head. 

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.” 

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly. 

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.” 

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.” 

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life. 

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.” 

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow. 

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?” 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Safe & Sound ~ OT7 [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

GENRE: Angst with a fluffy ending, platonic friendship with the boys, fighting, 

PAIRING: Platonic ot7 x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy this my love! Sorry it’s a little late my laptop completely gave out on me so I had to steal my brothers >.< I hope that this fic is okay for you and that Y/n isn’t too easily forgiving! I am working on that for you guys like I said before

The room was so hot it felt as though you were going to melt into a puddle on the seat, a heatwave had made its way through Seoul and Sejin made a decision to have a conference with the boys in the hottest room in the HYBE building. It was one of the hottest days in the year and instead of being out in the sun you were trapped in a meeting room waiting for Jimin to come and meet you, the boys and Sejin to have a nice long discussion about the tour that was going to be coming up.

The way that Sejin paced up and down in front of you made you nervous, he called a meeting with you and the boys and of course, Jimin was running late but Sejin had no idea why leading him to believe that you did. Being close with each of the boys meant you must have known everything, even if you didn't.

"You sure you have no idea?" You shook your head as Sejin asked you for the fifteenth time if you knew where Jimin was, you did, but you weren't going to let onto the fact that you knew. Jimin was on a date with his secret girlfriend and you were covering for him, you and the boys were the only ones who knew who the boys were dating since it was in their contracts that they weren't supposed to but they were boys. They had needs just like everybody else had so you kept their secret. After all, you were their best friend, you'd been with them since they debuted and you were always going to stick by their sides no matter what.

"He probably slept through his alarm Sejin, you know what he's like," You suggested, trying to calm the manager down who simply sighed and nodded his head at you finally taking a seat at the desk while the other six boys thanked you with their eyes. They all knew where he was but you didn't know the exact details, you never wanted to know the details just who they were with and how long they were going to be.

"Sorry, I'm late! The alarm just didn't wake me up," You sighed in relief as a sweaty-looking Jimin sat down in a chair beside Yoongi, Sejin said nothing as he stood up and began making his way over to a whiteboard to begin discussing the arrangements for the new tour.

As their personal assistant, you were going to be going along with them everywhere, as you did every tour, it was fun. You got to explore the world with some of your best friends as well as get some front row seats to the best performances you'd seen, though you had seen them enough times you could probably perform them with the boys. You'd gotten to travel around the world with your best friends, seeing the sights, having fun and just relaxing despite it being your job.

"As usual we'll stay in the cities for two nights and then head out to the plane the next morning, bright and early. That means no one can be late," Sejin said with a stern voice as he stared at Jimin who was hiding behind a cup of iced tea and blushing, you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing and waited for Sejin to finish his speech. Hoping it would be soon so you could get out of the room, it was like sitting in a vivarium, if this was how snakes felt all of the time you never wanted to be one.

"I didn't think he was going to stop talking," Jin moaned as he sat in front of the small mini-fridge that was in Yoongi's studio, the door open as he let the cold air hit his body. You and Namjoon on the other hand were laid on the flooring under the air-con machine being blasted with cold air, 

"I think I lost weight in there," You whined as you looked over at Jimin, his head in his phone clearly trying to apologise to his girlfriend who had ditched, 

"Is she okay with it? I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of it, I already got Jungkook out of a meeting last week," You spoke softly as Jimin glanced up at you, shaking his head. 

"It's not your place to make excused for us, don't be silly," You smiled weakly and laid your head back down on the floor as you watched the ceiling. All of the boys were dating and only you knew about it, no big deal. Namjoon had been together with his partner since the year after they debuted together, it was a surprise to you that no one else knew about them.

"How's your dating life going?" Hoseok asked as he fanned himself with a stack of papers from the coffee table, you scoffed at him whilst shaking your head. 

"I don't have time for dating, I'm too busy looking after you idiots," You mumbled sarcastically as you sat up slowly, thanking Yoongi who came into the room carrying cold drinks for everybody. 

"When was the last time you did something that wasn't for us?" Taehyung questioned, genuinely interested since to him all he seemed to him that you did was work, wor, work and sleep.

"Last week I went to that book shop-"

"Which you went to because Namjoon wanted the knew Leigh Bardugo book," Jungkook interrupted as he smirked at you.

"But I still went and got some things for myself." You grumbled, wanting to move on from this conversation as it made you uncomfortable. 

"Y/n can do what she wants, when she wants she just choices to look after us," Yoongi reminded them as he could see how uncomfortable you were getting about the subject, 

"Anyway, you need to listen to this new song, so come on." He quickly headed over to his computer and began typing as he searched for one of the songs he'd been working on, while you carefully snuck out of the door and headed to your office for the day. 

"I'll walk you to your car," Jimin said as you walked into the elevator together, you glanced up at him and smiled weakly. It had been a long day of organising things for the upcoming tour, making sure the hotels you were going to visit had everything the boys would need as well as running around the building to make sure the boys had what they needed that day. Your head was spinning so fast you thought you were going to need a week-long nap just to make up for it, 

"Can you drive me home instead? I feel like I might fall asleep," You whined, laying your head down on his shoulder as he chuckled hitting the garage floor buttons and nodding his head. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for one of the boys to drive you home or for you to drive them home you were like a happy family and they always looked out for you. 

"Sure, I'll get Jin-Hyung to pick me up from yours," He chuckled as he waited for the lift to move, laying his head on top of yours as you shut your eyes for a second wanting to rest them. 

"Thank you for covering for me, I didn't mean to stay at Mina's last night, we just had a long night." You laughed softly while shaking your head,

"It's fine, you don't have to explain anything to me Jimin, just make sure you're on time or Sejin might get suspicious. I don't mind you boys dating as long as you can keep it under wraps, you know that." You poked his cheek as you stood up straight, getting out on your floor and giving your car keys to Jimin who began following you in the direction of your company car. 

"What are you doing for your eighth year with the company?" He questioned, trying to make small talk to keep you awake for a little while longer, he knew how bad your sleeping patterns would get if you went to sleep now. 

"I'm thinking of taking a week off, maybe go and have a holiday? You keep pestering me to do," You laughed softly as you got into the passenger side door of the car and watched Jimin as he started the engine, he always looked so confident when he drove compared to when he first passed his test and was always so nervous to even start up an engine. 

"What?" He stared at you thinking he'd done something wrong but you shook your head with a smile, 

"Nothing, you just look confident, it's a good thing." You whispered as you stared out of the window focusing on everything you were passing by as Jimin tried to make some basic conversation with you. 

The next morning there was a weird feeling in your stomach that something was going to happen or that something bad had already happened and you had yet to figure out what it was. The boys hadn't replied to your calls or texts and Sejin was telling you there was an urgent meeting you had to be in right away with no excuses. 

"Morning Ted, did your baby arrive yet?" You laughed softly looking up at the security guard as you signed in. Normally you would exchange small talk about his pregnant wife but today he seemed stand-offish and was ignoring you as he handed you your ID card and took your bag to scan it through. 

"Everything is clear." Frowning at the way he was acting you headed over to the elevators ignoring the glances you were getting from people around you, it could have just been your imagination but they were whispering under their breath and pointing at you.

"I heard that it dropped late last night and she's the only one capable of knowing everything." The doors shut before you could hear anything else that one of the cleaners was saying, the feeling you had that morning tripled in size and your legs felt like jelly, you could have sworn you were going to throw up at any second. Rumours in this place were the worst kind of rumours, they could make you lose your job or have you arrested, no one seemed to think before they spoke around there and any kind of news true or false spread like wildfire. 

"Morning Sejin, everyone is acting rather odd-" You stopped talking when you walked into one of the smaller conference rooms to see the boys sitting around the table with Sejin, all staring at you in silence as Sejin clicked on his laptop. Behind him on the projector screen appeared different articles about the boys all with yesterday's and today's date on them, each of them detailing the dating lives of the members with photographs.

"What the fuck," Your bag dropped from your shoulder and onto the floor as your eyes scanned over the screen, more and more articles popping up the more Sejin clicked on his keyboard.

"What happened? I thought you told me you would be careful!" You yelled staring at the boys who were all staring back at you, Yoongi scoffing as he shook his head at you. 

"There Y/n goes, shifting the blame onto somebody else," Your heart began to pound against your chest as you realised they thought that it had been you to leak the stories to the press. 

"What?" You stuttered out looking from Sejin to the boys, all of them had the same look of disgust on their faces as they looked at you. Well all of them except for Jungkook who seemed to have his head in his hands.

"We trusted you!" Namjoon hissed as he got up from the chair, slamming the palm of his hands against the wood as he locked eyes with you. It felt as though you were being told off by a parent only worse, this time you knew you'd done nothing wrong and yet they were going to blame you without any form of proof. 

"Why would I go to the media? I've been working here for eight years, why would I go and throw away eight years of work and friendship?" You pleased with them, trying to make them see the sense in what they were saying, you would never do anything like this to them. Not to mention you'd signed thousands of contracts stating that you couldn't speak to anybody about what was happening outside of that building.

"No one else knows about it, no one but us and you," Yoongi mumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he stared out of the window. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, he felt betrayed in so many different ways. 

"Is this how one of our songs was leaked four years ago?" Namjoon was hurling accusations at you but you shook your head, there was no way you were going to let them put the blame onto you for this. Not when you had nothing to do with it.

"Why would I do something like that? I'm your friend-"

"No you're not, you've never been our friend. You've been using us since the start," Jungkook finally spoke as he got up from his chair, you glanced over at him to see his eyes were bloodshot from crying, Sejin looked over at the door as someone knocked on it and he excused himself. 

"I haven't been using you, I've been here since you debuted, I've been working with you guys. You're like my brothers, why would I ever hurt you like this?!" You were yelling now as they continued to put the blame onto you, you knew yelling wasn't going to make them see the truth but it was the only way you thought you could heard over them. 

"Tell us we're wrong then, tell us you didn't go to the media with all our date stories," Hoseok said as he stared at you, arms folded over his chest as if he was challenging you to do something. 

"Fine. You're wrong. I would never do something so idiotic," You stared at Jimin who had yet to say a word to you,

"Jimin took me home and I went to bed last night, I could barely lift my head up." You began going over in your mind what you had done the night before, there was no way you would do something like this. 

"The sources came from your email account, your name was used to sign off on each source," Taehyung mumbled, getting up and pointing to the source materials all of the media outlets had been using. 

"It's not that hard to get my email online, it's not that hard to find my name-"

"STOP LYING TO US!" Jimin finally cried out, red in the face from anger as he let tears stream down his cheeks, your heart felt as though it was breaking from the sight alone. 

"Jimin...Please, I would never do something like this to you." Tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes as you wished he would believe you, hoping that was some way he would take your side through all of this. 

"It's a good trick though, pretending to be our friend and then selling stories behind our backs," Yoongi said sarcastically as he sat back down in the chair it looked as though he'd already made up his mind on what had happened, they all had. 

"You're a disappointment," Jungkook hissed, venom dripping from his words as he stormed out of the room, you begged him to stay but he ignored you. 

"Why would we ever trust a snake, like you?" Another stab to the heart as Jin stormed out of the room with the words, you turned to look at Jimin who was normally the one to take both sides during a discussion but this time he seemed to have already made up his mind and he was set in his way. 

"You have to believe me, I would never-"

"Then how do you explain it?! How do you explain everyone knowing it all! You're the only one that knew all of this information Y/n! Just fucking own up to it and don't be so stupid," He yelled in your face making your breathing hitch in your throat, you watched him walk out of the room followed by Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok leaving you alone with only Namjoon who was shaking his head at you.

"Joonie-"

"Only my friends get to call me that, we never should have trusted you." He rubbed his temples and you knew what that meant, he was trying to make a decision about something and your heartbroke. It was about you and you knew it. 

"To make things easier, since no one believes me anyway, you can stick your job," You mumbled, snapping the lanyard that carried your ID inside and dropping it onto the desk. Followed by the company car keys, 

"I'll give you the apartment key when I move out," You grumbled, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you. 

"Don't act like you're better than us! You did this to yourself!" Yoongi yelled as you joined him in the hallway outside of the meeting room, you scoffed at him as you finally let the tears go. 

"You know what, you've already made your decision so it clearly doesn't matter. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?!" You yelled back at him, you didn't need to worry about losing your job since you'd already quit, there was nothing holding you back anymore. 

"What happened to, "Y/n you're our best friend, no matter what?', or is that all just bullshit now?" You yelled out, eyes scanning over their faces as the elevator let you know it was on the floor. Ted got out and you knew he was there for you.

"We never should have hired you," Jimin laughed as he looked at you, everyone on that floor began to come out of their rooms to get a look at what was happening as if it was something happening on their TV show instead of right in front of them, 

"We never should have hired a stupid girl who no one else wanted, someone who ruins everything that she touches!" You stiffened up your back as you heard him, Ted touched your upper arm but you moved away from him walking yourself into the elevator as you shook your head.

"You guys act like you're so sweet and yet you're toxic to the one person who's only ever always been there for you." You mumbled, hitting the bottom floor button before the doors shut, leaving them behind as you sunk down onto the floor crying at the thought of them hating you forever.

"Do you think we were too harsh?" Hoseok whispered as he sat in the dorms later that night with Jungkook and Taehyung, all three of them were regretting what they had said while the others stayed in their rooms not speaking with one another.

"No, I mean...There was no one else it could have been, she didn't have to lie to us," Taehyung grumbled as he poked at his food with his chopsticks, he'd lost his appetite all day being worried about what you were going through back at the apartment you were staying in.

"Well, I mean not really...It could have been any one of the girls we're dating..." Jungkook whispered as he looked over at Hoseok who sighed to himself, none of them had thought it through before accusing you of being the one to leak information.

"Why would they though?" Taehyung frowned, he knew his girlfriend would never do something that could potentially ruin their relationship.

"Why would who, do what?" Namjoon questioned hearing the end of their conversation, 

"Jungkook thinks one of our girlfriends could have been the one to leak the information but why would they? I mean, unless it was out of spite but I don't think they would," Hoseok explained, thinking back to his girlfriend and shaking his head, he knew she would never betray his trust that way but Namjoon's face seemed to turn pale and it looked as though he was beginning to sweat.

"Namjoon?" Jungkook questioned, confused as to why the leader looked as though he'd just seen a ghost roaming around the halls of the dorms. 

"I mean- What if it was one of our girlfriends...I- Me and Jessi had a fight last night and we broke up...She knows everything Y/n knows and more...She never liked Y/n either so she would do it to spite us all..." The room suddenly fell cold even though it was a heatwave and the boys all panicked, darting for their phones to try and contact you while Namjoon tried to piece everything together and think of a way to get it out of his ex that she did or did not do it.

Getting it out of Jessi wasn't easy but after HYBE ordered a warrant to go through her internet histories finding everything came from her IP address, including multiple email accounts created under your name and address the boys instantly tried to get into contact with you but you had blocked their numbers wanting nothing more to do with people who thought that you were lying to them. 

"I bought a coffee, to make up for things," Jungkook said as you walked out of your apartment to find him standing there staring at you. HYBE had allowed you to stay in the apartment until you found another place to live and the boys had been sending over non-stop gifts to try and say sorry to you, this was the first time you'd seen any of them face to face since it happened. 

"You think a coffee, some flowers and a huge 'I'm Beary sorry' teddy bear are going to make up for it?" You scoffed, pulling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards the building's main elevator where the rest of the boys were waiting. They knew there was nothing they could do, say or give to you that would even begin to make up for what they said and did to you. Embarrassing you in front of everyone that was in that hallway that day, yelling at you, accusing you of something you'd never done in your life.

"No, but it's a way of us saying sorry and starting to mend what we broke," Jungkook whispered, Jimin glanced up at you as you looked over each of them. It was obvious how sorry they all were but if you forgave them so easily who was to say that they wouldn't do it all over again? You didn't want them to use you like you were some kind of mug.

"Will you think about it?" Namjoon questioned as you got into the elevator without saying anything to them but you had no idea what to say, it was hard. After eight years you thought they trusted you as much as you trusted them but clearly, you were wrong about that fact. 

"I guess...But it hurt, knowing that after all these years you didn't believe me." You looked up at them as they all looked down at the ground apologetically. 

"We're sorry," They each said as the doors shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your vibrating phone. Sejin had been trying to get in contact with you since he found out it was all Jessi, he wanted to get you to come back to your job and apologise for what had happened but you ignored his calls and voicemails. You just needed some time and space to think everything over, things would never go back to the way they were. You'd never be able to be as close with the boys as you once were but it was worth a shot. Right? 

The last few weeks consisted of sneaking into the HYBE building without the members knowing, signing all new contracts to work with a different team and group as well as trying to mend your business relationship with Sejin. Since you felt betrayed by him and the boys you no longer wanted to work under them but that didn't mean you couldn't be friends and still work for the company. After eight years you decided you weren't just going to throw it all away for nothing. 

"You're here?" Jimin questioned as he walked into one of the lounge area's in the building to see you standing with JR from NU'EST, he was talking to you about something he wanted brought to him. 

"I am, I'm working though so if you want something you'll have to walk and talk," Jimin frowned as he followed you out into the hallway, following you around as you headed towards the canteen to get a coffee. 

"You're working for NU'EST now?" He questioned, watching you closely as you nodded your head, turning to look up at him with a weak smile. 

"This was the only way I could think of saving a friendship...I couldn't work for you or Sejin again so I'm with NU'EST...I'll see you around and we can develop our friendships again," He knew that you were coming from a good place and it was nice to know you were willing to work on your friendships with them but he couldn't help but feel hurt by you choosing to sign with a different band after everything you'd done with them.

"Jimin...This was the only way I could come back to work," You whispered as he nodded at you, following you back up to the lounge and he told all of the boys what was happening. 

Days at the company turned into weeks which turned into months of you working for the new group, working alongside them while working on your friendship with the NU'EST members as well as the BTS boys again, wanting nothing more than your friendship to be as strong as it once was and it was back at that point. You felt as though you could trust them and get along with them better, 

"It feels good to have you back," Jungkook said as he handed you a plate of food, all eight of you were at the dorms eating take-out and watching some bad movie that Hoseok had picked out. It was your monthly movie night that you used to have together, it was nice to know that everything was clicking back into place and you were developing growth with them.

"I CALLED IT!" Yoongi yelled as the two side characters began to make out in the forest before being killed by the movie killer, it was a tradition between you all to make bets on movie cliche's that would be used within the movies.

"It was so obvious," You mumbled putting the money you owed him into his hand before stealing one of the spring rolls from his plate and eating it happily. It was safe to say everything was back to the way it should have been in the first place, the way things were happy. You felt as though you were back home safe and sound.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​

[magnoliabloomfield]

Possession

Chapter 1: The Princess Arrives

Structure. Maybe it was because he was a builder that he liked that word so much. He built structures, he knew how make four walls and a roof that wouldn’t come down on anyone’s head, he knew how to build a seat that wouldn’t give out under anyone’s weight, and he knew how to maintain it all and make it last. The small world he lived in demanded order and structure for everyone’s well being. Without it they would be sleeping on the ground, starving, and losing their minds. And if one cog in that machine didn’t turn as it should it affected every other part. Yes, the Glade had to be a well oiled machine functioning everyday as it should.

Thankfully there were no outside forces that tried to thwart that. The doors opened in the morning, they closed at night, and the box came every month. You could tell time by the Glade and its unchanging rhythm. After three years Gally knew it like his own heartbeat. He knew the answer to every problem that could crop up in his bit of the machine. He was good enough to be the Keeper of the builders at least. Maybe that’s why it hit him hardest of all.

Box day came like all the others before it, predictable and precise. But then the heart of the Glade skipped a beat and Gally’s own did too for the first time. Because in that box was something they would never recover from.

A girl.

That was the worst thing that ever could have come up in the box. The boys would lose their minds, they’d become distracted and competitive and the machine of the Glade would come to a rusty, grinding halt. Gally could see the writing on the walls: this was going to be bad.

She wasn’t awake, she was laying there almost peacefully and all the gladers remained eerily and unexpectedly silent, like they were waiting for someone to jump out and say it was all a joke and take her away, or if they stared at her long enough the mirage would fizzle out and it actually would be a boy like it was supposed to be. Alby and Newt carefully lowered themselves into the box so they wouldn’t startle her and Newt hesitantly checked for a pulse, letting out a breath as he nodded to say she was alive. Gally ran a hand over his mouth, feeling anxious but not wanting to look it.

She woke up slowly from a sleep she didn’t know she’d fallen into. Her eyes stared straight up at the sky before they started to focus on things like Newt and Alby and a whole crowd of boys looming above her. Gally waited for the scream, for the crying, shuck, even boys had screamed and cried when they came up. But she didn’t. She tried to sit up and winced, placing her palm over her eye and rubbing like her head hurt.

“You’re okay,” Newt said to her from where he knelt beside her.

“Do you remem-“ Alby started to ask her but was silenced by her holding up one finger.

“Just… give me a minute,” she requested as she pressed both palms to her forehead and brought her knees up toward her chest.

“Sure, no rush,” Newt assured her softly, earning a small glare from Alby who was more impatient and less coddling than him.

“Enough gawking, if you’re not a keeper get back to work,” Alby ordered the boys standing around whispering to each other and stifling giggles behind their fists.

Gally narrowed his eyes and shook his head at them. Weak willed hormonal morons. They were all shucking doomed. Slowly the boys began to shuffle off, the ones catching Gally’s glare wiping the smirks from their faces and moving even faster. He sighed to himself knowing their work was going to suck if it got done at all.

Gally stood around with the other keepers, his arms crossed as they all waited for whatever would happen next. The girls hands came away from her face and she held one out in front of her, seeing the tremors running through it and making it shake before she clutched her knees and took a deep breath.

“Okay… now, what?” she sighed, looking up at Newt and Alby, her eyes squinting in the sun.

She was cute, of course she was cute, she couldn’t ruin their lives if she wasn’t cute, Gally thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“Do you remember anything?” Newt asked her nicely.

She zoned out on the middle ground ahead of her and let a breath out through her lips. “Water is wet, the sky is blue, that kind of stuff. I can’t even remember my name,” She said, her shaking hands pushing her hair back from her face as that realization set in.

“It’s ok, it’s alright,” Newt did a good job of keeping her calm. “That happens to everyone who comes here. Sad to say that’s normal. Most of us eventually remember our names at some point though, so don’t worry too much.”

“So if I were to ask you where we are and why we’re here you wouldn’t even know?” she asked as she turned to him, causing him to rock back on his heels a little bit.

“Unfortunately that is correct,” Alby spoke up, earning her attention. “But we will tell you everything we do know, starting with the fact that… you’re the very first girl to come here in three years. So we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

She squinted up at him for a beat before asking “Am I dreaming?”

“I bet you would think being the only girl in a crowd of boys would be a dream,” one of the other keepers said, drawing those eyes of hers to him.

“Nightmares are dreams too,” she pointed out.

Gally felt the corner of his mouth twitch like he might have chuckled at that.

She got out of the box on her own, climbing onto a drum of drinking water and then the rest of the way. Alby and Newt took a hand to get out and Gally figured the girl wasn’t keen on being touched just yet if ever. They let her have her way. They set off for the gathering room, the girl carefully encircled by the keepers to either keep her from running off or keep anyone from running up to her. Alby yelled for someone to go unload the rest of the box and the girl flinched.

She wasn’t as short as Gally expected a girl would be, but of course she was a lot shorter than him. At least not all the boys were that much taller than her which might tip things in her favor slightly if anything were to happen. Gally would have to pay attention to how intimidating he was now. It was never an issue with the boys, it was quite essential in fact. If they weren’t a little scared of someone then nothing would get done. But just looking at her he could tell that he absolutely could overpower her without breaking a sweat, and she would most definitely put that together too, so he had to make sure he never gave her a reason to think he actually would.

They started the gathering with the basic Greenie intro to the Glade. This was usually handled by one person who took the greenie on a tour around the Glade, but this was not the usual greenie. Gally was actually glad she was out of sight of the boys who were supposed to be working.

He rested his elbows on his knees to keep his leg from jumping nervously as Alby and Newt explained the basics and each keeper explained what they did. Gally kept his eyes down, unintentionally staring through the spot where her feet were. As the builder he was running through all the work he would have to do, he’d have to build a safe place for her to sleep and wash up, how exactly was he going to do that, he’d never had to do that before. When Alby called his name he was almost startled. He looked around and found everyone looking back at him, including the girl. It must be his turn.

“I’m in charge of the builders. Pretty self explanatory,” he stated, holding her gaze for as long as he could manage. It wasn’t long.

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet, Gally,” Newt pointed out, looking at him curiously.

Gally didn’t like the attention. “Well, I am the one who has to do the most about this situation,” he pointed out. “Yes, she needs her introduction to this place, but while you’re telling it to her I’m sitting here thinking of how I’m going to build a safe place for her to sleep and to wash up. I’m thinking up the plans now so I can get to work first light and just maybe she’ll have a place to sleep by sundown tomorrow. So what are we going to do for her tonight?”

Alby pinched the bridge of his nose as his face scrunched up, realizing that they had lot of work ahead of them. When Gally had finished his rant he thought the girl was sitting a little smaller in her seat.

“The gardening shed,” Newt blurted. “Remember the time the rakes fell over? We couldn’t get in, you had to take the door off. There’s no windows either. It’s not the best accommodations but on short notice at least it’s a place where no one can get in.”

Gally had started nodding, remembering exactly what Newt was talking about and it was a good idea, at least for one night. “We’ll move out some of the tools and put a cot in,” Gally thought aloud.

“She can take mine,” Minho volunteered.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you running tomorrow?” Newt pointed out.

“Yeah,” Minho shrugged. “Maybe one of the other runners will let me use his cot, but I can’t volunteer anyone else’s but my own. Besides, it’ll be one night, two tops with Gally working on it.”

Gally was surprised to hear him say something vaguely nice about him. But most of all he was planning, drawing blueprints in his mind of the safest, most anti-boy structure he could possibly make. He was going to put the Princess in the tower.

@poulterholland @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca @thesuitkovian @Poulterjonas @gladerscake @carp3d1em @neilox

If any of you don't actually want to be tagged in the future just let me know, I was just trying to remember the ones who were really interested in the last short Gally series I wrote.

Possession Masterlist

[panic-at-the-fiction]

True Love’s Kiss

Summary: Jefferson loves his family but when Regina puts (y/n) under a sleeping curse he risks it all to save her only to end up separated from them for more than 28 years. Also shout out to @fangirltrash15 for asking for this fic. I know you didn’t ask me specifically but I hope you like it.

Warnings: Spell check? We don’t know her!

A/N: This is the longest story I have ever written in one sitting and I loved writing it. I honestly love writing for Jefferson. He’s such and untapped potential for fanfiction and I blame that for his lack of screen time which I blame on the fact that he was dating Jennifer Morrison and they broke up so I guess it was weird for him to be on the show but there was a wonderland spin off and there is no reason he shouldn’t have been on that.

Jefferson was making his way down the street like he did every night. Only stopping outside the Tea Grove cafe to look through its window on the other side of the street where he couldn’t be seen. He watched as the young woman in the store turned off the open sign and began to sweep away at the floors. He just loved walking by her store to watch her close up at night. He knew he could never talk to her. In this life she didn’t know him and he couldn’t tell her what he knew because knowing was the worst curse.

The enchanted forest.

(Y/n) was running through the forest. Dodging every tree she could and jumping over the big roots of trees that stuck out of the ground. She ran until she eventually found a hollow tree to hide in. She did her best to remain silent while she caught her breath but her hiding place must not have been good enough...

“I found you!” Said the little blonde as she popped her head into the tree (y/n) had hidden herself in.

“So you did sweet Grace,” she laughed “at least tell me you found your father first.” (Y/n) climbed her way out of the tree and finally stood up.

“She did.” Said a slight grumpy voice from behind the tree.

“Oh well good, that means at least I didn’t lose.” (Y/n) said smiling and laughing at the handsome man who was leaning against the tree.

“Just because grace found me first does not mean I lost.” He huffed.

“It kind of does,” He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, admit it, you're just upset that you lost to a girl at hide and seek. Come on admit I beat you.” She said teasing him and pointing at his chest.

“Ok find you beat me, you always do.” He laughed.

“Damn straight.” (Y/n) said finally getting close enough to Jefferson to throw her arms around his shoulders and pull him down for a quick kiss. Making a mental note that grace was still there.

She had been living with Grace and Jefferson for a couple of years now but she was always sure to keep things g-rated around Grace. Especially since she wasn’t Grace’s actual mother, though she loved Grace no less, (y/n) knew she could never fully replace her like that.

“Come on papa let’s go back to the house and have our tea party.”

“Of course my dear Grace,” Jefferson said holding his hand out for his little girl. Grace took her fathers hand and then offered her other hand for (y/n).

Present day.

(Y/n) finished locking up the store and turned to head toward her car. It was pouring down rain and as she opened her umbrella a gust of wind blew it out of her hand and down the street. She quickly chased after it down the road. She paid no attention to the road as cars tried to swerve around her. As she made it to the other side of the road she ran down the sidewalk never getting much closer to her umbrella till a strange man finally caught it and walked over to her.

He set the umbrella straight and held it over her head. “You uh... dropped this I think.”

“Thank you, so much really.”

He seemed nervous or even panicked. She had never seen him around before which was so strange for this small town. “Here I’ll walk you to your car.”

They both walked back up the street till they reached her car. He helped her get in and handed her the umbrella. “Thank you so much, uh I actually don’t know your name.”

“Jefferson,” he said with pain on his face.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Jefferson, I’m (y/n). I guess you’re sorta like my knight in shining armor tonight aren’t you? You really saved me out there.” She laughed.

He frowned at the ground before looking at the girl in the car again. “Trust me I’m no knight and you didn’t need my saving.” He said before walking away from the car.

The enchanted forest

After having visited the market that evening with Grace, (y/n) came back home to find the queen's Carriage sitting by their house. (Y/n) bent down to her knees so she was at eye level with the young girl. “Wait, stop Grace. We should hang out in the woods for a bit ok? We can play our game for a while.” She smiled at the little girl.

“Who’s at the house with papa?” She questioned being the smart girl she was.

“I think it’s the Queen.”

“The Queen, at our house. What does she want? Shouldn’t we go inside and check on papa?”

(Y/n) rubbed up and down Grace’s arms. “No sweetie. Me and your father made a deal a long time ago that if our past ever came back that one of us would stay with you. He doesn’t want you to ever be alone. Ok? So for now let’s go into the woods and play our game. Your father can handle this.” She smiled.

After spending sometime in the forest the girls walked back to the house. This time with no carriage in sight. When they went inside they found Jefferson sitting at the table in the kitchen contemplating the box in front of him.

“Papa!” Grace ran and hugged her father.

“You're both back late. Did you enjoy yourselves at the market?”

“Yes we did but when we got home we saw the queen's carriage so we stayed and played in the woods for a while.”

“Oh I see. Grace why don’t you go play in your room while I talk to (y/n) for a moment.” She smiled and ran off to her room.

(Y/n) frowned and set down beside Jefferson. “What did the Queen want?”

“She wanted me to portal jump.” He said running his hands through his hair.

(Y/n) began to rub calming circles on his back, “and what did you tell her?”

“I told her I didn’t do that anymore. I have a family now.”

“And so she just left?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“ I doubt that she doesn’t have a plan to come back.”

“I know. When Regina wants something she’ll get it. Whatever the cost.” (Y/n) rest her head on his shoulder.

“Is that why you brought out your hat? Incase she comes back?”

“I don’t know. I just keep thinking maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just do one more job. We wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again. You and Grace wouldn’t have to live so poorly.”

“Jefferson, me and Grace are just happy with the life we have. We don’t need money to be afamily and we need you here. With us.”

He smiled faintly and kissed the top of her head. This was why he needed (y/n) she reminded him of why he put that hat away. He belonged here.

A couple of days later

It was getting late and (y/n) still wasn’t back from the market. She left hours ago and it was almost supper time. She should be back by now and Jefferson was beginning to worry.

With the sun beginning to set he grabbed his hat and told Grace to go stay at the neighbors house till either he or (y/n) came home. He knew they had once said that in times like these one of them would always stay with Grace but he needed to bring (y/n) back home.

He knew exactly where she was; he didn’t need to look. He quickly made his way to the queen's castle and by nightfall he marched through the doors. No guards stopped him so obviously he was in the right place and the Queen wanted him here.

He finally reached the queen's quarters and tossed his hat bose on to the floor. “Here that damned hat Regina, now where’s (y/n)!”

“Calm down mister Jefferson. We both know that I don’t know how to use that hat without ending up somewhere useless. Only you know how to use it properly. It’s useless to me but if you're looking for your little girlfriend I’m sure I can help you with that.” She stood up from her seat and walked over to the middle of the room where Jefferson stood.

She waved her hand and a mirror appeared. “Here this will show you anyone you wish to see.”

He cautiously took the mirror from Regina and held it in his hands and thought of (y/n). The mirror in the cloud of smoke showed through a picture of (y/n), she appeared to be unconscious, almost appearing to be dead.

“What did you do to her!”

“She’s fine Hatter. She’s only sleeping.”

“Wake her, I know you can!”

“Well of course I can but why would I do that? Not to worry though, if you want to wake her on your own all you have to do is give her true love's kiss.” Jefferson's face dropped. “That is if you believe in your true love?”

“I love (y/n)”

“Yes but is it good enough? I mean does she truly love you? All you can offer her is a small house with little money and a daughter who's not even hers.”

“And what do you want? What would I have to do in exchange for you waking her?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Like I said before. I want to go to wonderland of course.

Present day.

Jefferson set alone in his house like always, using his telescope to check on his family. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about (y/n) since he last saw her on the street.

Ever since Emma came to town he’s had this annoying hope that maybe she could break this curse and he could be with his family again. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy though. He abandoned his family many years before the curse, who says they would want him back now. Besides, Emma was convinced in not believing in magic. He tried to show her and despite all his proof she didn’t believe him.

As he peered through his telescope he spotted a glitter in the sky. It seemed as though it was moving closer like a wavy. Before he could even process it the wave washed over him. At first he felt nothing, like nothing was different but he looked back through his telescope this timing aiming it at the town square. He could see everyone coming out of their shops and houses and hugging and reuniting with people on the streets. He couldn’t believe it, there was no way this was possible. They were waking up.

Jefferson passed back and forth through his whole house. This was all he had waited for for 28 years, even longer when counting the time he spent in wonderland. But he couldn’t muster up the courage to go find his family. He finally forced himself to go outside onto the street. Families and reunited loved ones pass him all around. He slowly made his way down the street but not long after the first wave he saw another come toward him. This one was like smoke, purple smoke. No one had time to cover for shelter but as soon as it covered the street it was gone. Everyone began to panic but he knew what this was. He had been a dabler of magic; he could feel it here.

Pain rang through him as he thought of what would happen now that magic was in town. He quickly ran down the street toward the little tea shop he had passed millions of times before. When he finally reached the shop there was a small crowd of customers who crowded around the entrance. As he approached the crowd and tried to push passed through them, he heard a familiar voice.

“Papa!”

“Grace, my darling” he hugged his little girl as hard as he could, too scared to let her go.

“I was going to find you but (y/n) found me first. She was fine but when the smoke came by she collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong with her papa.” He did his best to calm the girl and then stood up and pushed the crowd away to finally reach (y/n).

“No no no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be fine in this world.” He knelt beside (y/n) and held her unconscious form in his arms.

“We tried to help her but we can’t tell what’s wrong with her. Someone already called 911.” Said some man in the crowd.

“They won’t do her any good. This is a magic problem and it needs a magic solution.” He snapped. He tuned the rest of them out as they all stood around them. He leaned his forehead down to hers as he brushed some hair out of face. “(Y/n) if you can hear me… I I need you to wake up. Ok?” He paused for a second but she didn’t move. He closed his eyes and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

(Y/n) eyes flew open and she jumped as she quickly awoke from her sleep. She looked around her and saw Jefferson and sweet Grace by her side. She smiled, finally being able to remember them after seeing them everyday but never truly seeing them. She cupped Jefferson's cheek with her hand and smiled. “How did you know that would work?”

He laughed slightly as he took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “I didn’t.” He swiftly pulled her into a passionate kiss with all the love he could conjure. “I love you”

(Y/n) smiled, “I love you too”

Jefferson pulled his family into a hug as they all sat on the floor. He had been dreaming of this day for too long. “Let’s go home” he said smiling at his small family.

[sukiglycerin]

it takes two || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst

* words: 1,647

* warnings: brief fighting scene (implied), swearing (duh), a lil bit of insecure katsuki but ofc comfort after, reader is mentioned to be in the hero business field, KATSUKI WEARS SHOES IN THE HOUSE !!! can you believe the audacity-

* original request:  Hello dear :)) Can I request a Bakugou x reader fic where he gets hit by a clone quirk and the clone is like the complete opposite of him, personality-wise, and Bakugou frequently loses his temper because the clone keeps hitting on his s/o I am sorry for bothering you :(

* a/n: you? bother me? never. actually, i’m sorry this took so long to complete! i’m hoping i can restart a consistent posting schedule soon. happy early birthday bakugou! this is my gift :) i hope you all enjoy~ i love @toishi for proofreading this T^T

it’s a lazy day for you. all you’ve been doing is sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat, and indulging in six different rhythm games despite your lack of rhythm, it’s a good day, snuggled up under the mountains of fuzzy blankets and squished in between soft pillows on your bed, your favorite song quietly playing from your phone on your nightstand. natural light fills your otherwise unlit room, curtains pushed aside to let the sun shine in her full glory. time is idle in this sanctuary of yours for only today; whether a minute or an hour has passed is something out of your concern. 

there’s nothing different when bakugou comes home, the jingle of keys and click of the door telling you that it’s him. he’s oddly quiet, though, and for a second you’re almost wondering why he hasn’t yelled “i’m home, dumbass!” before said blond peeks his head into the room. 

“hey, love,” he flashes a rare smile. it’s kind, like the soft light of the sun you've become so acquainted with. “i’m home.”

“hey?” you sit up, propping the pillows behind you so you can comfortably lean against the headboard of your bed. “you feeling alright?”

you expect a gruff reply of “the fuck are you talking about?” and a scowl, but get the opposite. a pleasant expression graces katsuki's face, which makes him look more handsome than usual. his hair almost seems tame this way. he’s also uncharacteristically clean; his costume is usually dirt-treaded and at least a little battered whenever he returns from hero patrol. now, though? his outfit is pristine, as if pulled out from a laundromat and ironed professionally. there’s a ghost of a frown on your lips.

"i'm lovely, now that i can see you." the line is spoken like a sappy confession from the male lead of a k-drama; you'd laugh if it wasn't for your utter confusion about katsuki's sudden change in demeanor. his facial expression is twisted in such a gallant way that it arouses suspicion in you.

you’re opening your mouth to reply when there’s a startling crashing at the front door. katsuki’s face falls into downhearted dread, as if expecting the intrusion. his reaction surprises you more than the intrusion itself. the door slams shut in the distance, rattling the house. the sound of boots clomping against the hardwood floor frightens you as you thrust your warm sheets aside (alas, they could wait) and reach for your bat under the bed. katsuki only stares at you, transfixed, and you feel the slightest urge to clobber him with the weapon. why isn’t he ready to fight? you’re up and approaching the doorway of your bedroom when you stop in your tracks.

“hey, fucker!” a loud, abrasive voice yells from down the hallway. “i found ya!”

you recognize that timbre in an instant, then turn to look at katsuki, still standing at your bedside, with a questioning gaze. he’s wearing an expression you never thought you’d see your husband have - his eyes are wide, mouth agape like a deer in headlights.

despite this vote of inconfidence from him, you pad forward slowly, bat gripped tightly and slung over your shoulder. you plunge forward, passing the doorway and glancing left. a shadowy figure stands five feet from you, its stature menacing. you swing blindly, but you bat is only met with more air. the figure is a little bit further now - damnit, it had good reflexes.

“you could still use some work on that swing,” it lowly chuckles and confuses you. you squint, trying to make out who in the world this guy thinks he is to comment on your swing. you gasp, faltering your grip on the bat. 

“k-katsuki? what?”

“got hit with a stupid clone quirk on patrol,” this katsuki grumbles bitterly, stepping towards you. he’s dressed in his full hero costume, green grenadier bracers a tight fit in the narrow hallway. “i apprehended the guy but my clone won’t stop following me around. it’s stupidly fast, too, whenever i try to catch it.”

“....and,” you start, “how do i know that you’re not the clone?” you pretend to inspect him close, eyes slowly trailing from the tips of his spiky, golden hair to his black combat boots. (oh, man, you were going to yell at him about wearing shoes in the house later.)

“don’t start this inception bullshit with me now,” he groans. 

“what’s katsuki bakugou’s favorite food?” you question, though you have no doubt that this katsuki is the real one. 

“anything spicy,” he bemoans. “now, let me-”

“that was an easy one.” you shake your head. “what was the first idea katsuki bakugou had for a hero name idea instead of lord explosion murder?”

if you were in better light, you’re sure you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink. 

“mighty boom,” he mumbles. 

“sorry, what was that?” you tease.

“mighty boom!” he half-shouts, flustered.

“oh, okay, so you’re the real katsuki,” you say. “how do we defeat the clone?’

“according to the quirk user, it should disappear after two or three hours. but it can’t really do much harm, as long as it’s not in the sight of the user himself,” he says. “now let me at ‘im. he’s making a fool of myself.” 

he attempts to shove himself forward, but you stop him before he can see through the door frame. you glance at the clone, who’s looking at you with round, ruby eyes. he looks like a puppy with that innocent expression, and for a split second, you think that you actually might miss the calm, charming air of this katsuki. turning back to the real katsuki, who pretends not to notice the shift in your eyes, you exhale. 

“have at it, but take it outside first, please. i can’t have you tracking in more dirt.” you look to the dirt-ridden footprints behind him on the wooden flooring, sighing.

but in a flash he’s past you - wow, you really weren’t blocking him at all before, were you? - outfit a blur of black, green, and orange as he seizes the clone, slings it over his shoulder like it's made of air, and vanishes past you and out the door. he seldom leaves a trace of dirt, this time, smooth maneuvering himself outside while the clone bids you one last pleading farewell.

you hear blasting, yelling, and yelps, the lattermost presumably the clone’s, barely muffled from your position inside. your first thought wonders what the neighbors will think. you glance one last time at the tracks of katsuki’s boots then turn back to your room. he’d have to mop up that mess later. 

ten minutes and an eternity later, katsuki returns inside. by the pause at the front door, you figure one of two things: katsuki’s either taking the time to take off his shoes and put them away properly or staring at the filth he left on the floor. you’re hoping it’s the former. his footsteps are light as he goes to fetch a mop and clean the mess.

finished, he shuffles into your shared room and briefly looks at your comfortable position on the bed.

“what?” you whine. “hero business is hard. i needed a day off.”

this earns a laugh from the man, who’s in the process of removing his gauntlets and stowing them away. he shrugs off the rest of his costume, opting for much more comfortable attire and dropping his mask on a dresser. 

“how was your day?” you ask when he snuggles next to you on the bed. he’s sweaty and smells deeply of caramel, but you’ll nag him to shower later. the wear shows in his eyes and movement, sluggish after a long day of work. 

“good,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your warmth. “except for that clone bastard.”

you hum, joking, “he was charming, though.”

when he looks up at you with a vulnerable look in his eyes, you regret it.

“did you… really like him that much?” his voice is hoarse, scarcely a whisper. he averts his eyes, fiddling with the hem of your shirt sleeve.

“of course not,” you reply tenderly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek. he still can’t look you in the eyes.

“you know you’ll always be number one in my heart, right? even if you’re not the number one hero, you’re the constant in my heart.” you touch your chest, right over your heart. 

“y-you sure?” his words crackle like dying embers, inconsistent and unstable, flakes of lit ash that weakly dissipate into the atmosphere. a waning fire is still warm, though; with a bit of oxygen it can be rejuvenated, relit, and burn bright once again. 

“am i one to be wrong?” you ask him, and he faintly shakes his head. “i fell in love with you not for your looks, katsuki… i don’t want a disney prince. i want you, not some fairytale guy.”

“i yell, and i’m brash-”

you cut him off, chuckling, “and that’s what i love about you. you don’t-” you make a vague gesture with your hands, then drop them, unsure how to articulate your thoughts. “you don’t care what people think. you’re unapologetically… you.”

“you sure?” katsuki tries again. “that- that guy, that thing- you sure you don’t prefer a guy that’ll buy you roses with a note on the tag that says ‘you are the most beautiful flower in my garden’ in fancy cursive script on it?”

“do people really do that?” you frown. “i mean, i hope no guy does that for me-” katsuki exhales a breath of relief. you look at him questioningly but don’t press the issue. 

“i love you, katsuki,” you finish, “and no shitty clone will ever change that. ever.”

while he showers, katsuki’s thankful that he burned the roses from some secret admirer he found in your shoe locker during your high school days. 

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 5

Here we are once again!  Check out the #Reality Check Masterlist tag on the bottom if you need the other chapters.  A new masterlist will be created sometime this week! Enjoy! <3 I love you all 3000

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Y’all are going to lose your minds.  There are no warnings.  I can’t spoil when we’re this close.  Just know that this has been in mind the entire time.  I couldn’t let you all know the entire plot so early on ;) 

Just as you were finishing up breakfast the lights went out.  The only light now was the sun peeking through the windows of the kitchen, illuminating the room with a soft glow.  The bacon was still sizzling in the pan and you groaned.  Suddenly, the water pipe burst in the sink as well, causing water to spray everywhere.  “Can this day get any better?!” You ran over to the water pipes underneath the sink, turning the valves until they shut off completely.  

Water continued to drip from the counters, soaking everything near it.  Just as you were grabbing towels Loki walked in, his eyes still showing signs of sleep in them.  “What happened?  I heard you yelp,” He asked, concerned. 

“The power went out and the water pipe burst.  A great combination if I do say so myself.”  Your voice was laced with sarcasm as Loki brought a few more towels over, covering the floor and stomping on them to soak up the water.  

“Don’t worry about it love, these things happen.” He smiled a little, trying to help you feel better about it.  

“Well, look at it this way,” You said, walking over to the other side of the counter.  The plate of pancakes and bacon sat there, perfectly made, unharmed from the water.  “Fate gave us a break with breakfast.” You grinned, holding up the plate to him.  He laughed lightly and pulled out two smaller plates from the cupboard. 

“A not-so-perfect start to the day, but a start nonetheless.” 

~

You placed the plates in the sink once you were done, completely forgetting that you couldn’t clean them up just yet.  You thought about what you could do and decided it may be best to go see if Wanda or Geraldine were having similar issues.  It would be a chance to get out of the house and find out if the entire neighborhood was having these problems too. 

“Loki, I’m going to go out and see if anyone else is having problems.  It could be better than asking an electrician to come over just yet.” You stated, putting your shoes on.  Loki walked over to you before responding. 

“Alright, stay safe, my love.” He kissed the top of your head.  You smiled at the affection but you were slightly confused. 

“I’m just going out around the neighborhood.  I’ll be alright, I promise,” You laughed a little.  Loki’s concern seemed so out of place for him.  You didn’t remember him ever being that protective of you.  Then again, how long ago would that have been exactly? “What’s got you so worked up lately?” 

“It’s nothing much.  It just feels like so much is changing so quickly.  And it feels like you’re changing with it.  Not-” He quickly stopped himself, “Not in that sense.  I mean, it’s changing you in a way that I’m worried will harm you.”  

“Things may be changing, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing.  It’s good that there’s change.  Maybe it’s something we need here.” You smiled.  “I’ll see you later, hon.”  

You walked out the door and down the street.  Oddly enough, there weren’t many people outside.  Taking a peek into their windows you could see that it was all dark.  Not a single light shone in them, nor did a person walk by.  It was like they were frozen in time.  

As you made your way to Wanda’s house, you noticed Agnes and Vision talking.  It looked like Herb was next to Agnes.  The three of them seemed to having a nice discussion as they laughed about something.  What you found odd, however, was the man standing across the street watching them.  His black hair was slicked back and he was in a suit.  It was Scott.  

You waved over to him and walked across to say hello.  After the ordeal that went down with him yesterday, a part of you was just drawn to him.  You weren’t sure if you wanted to apologize for being rude or find out what he was going on about.  Either way, he noticed you and smiled, breaking your train of thought.  “Y/N, how lovely to see you.”  

“Hey Scott, what’s with the suit?  It’s a Saturday, who goes to work today?” You asked, laughing a little.  He looked down to the ground quickly before meeting your eyes again.  A kind of sadness seemed to loom in his eyes. 

“I had to go into the office today to take care of some work.  The boss apparently decided that I needed to get something done by Monday if I wanted a promotion.  It didn’t take long, but it ended with a meeting so I had to make sure I dressed properly.” 

“The boss needed you on a Saturday?  Well, I can’t say much, except that I feel sorry for you.”  The two of you shared a laugh which she seemed to catch Agnes’ eye momentarily.  You noticed the quick glance she gave the two of you before resuming her discussion.  “Well, aside from that, how are you doing?” 

“Well, I’m... Alright, we can say.  I was actually looking for you, so I’m glad to see you.” He said.  Your head tilted in confusion. 

“Me?  Why were you looking for me?” 

Something in his eyes seemed to change again.  You couldn’t place your finger on the emotion though.  He hesitated before he responded, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully before replying.  It was like he needed to know what the right answer was to a simple question.  “I wanted to check on you.  Gossip spreads around this town faster than you think.  Agnes had already mentioned you running off from the talent show to me.  I wanted to check on you.” 

“Check on me?  Oh, that woman.  She’s so nosy, it drives me up the wall sometimes.  I swear if you ever mentioned what you told me to that woman, she’d let the entire town know in less than sixty seconds,” You shook your head.  He chuckled, nodding in agreement.  

“Yes, I know.  That’s why I trusted you with that information and not her.  However... I wanted to apologize for that.  That was a lot I asked from you in such a short amount of time, especially when we had just met.  Could we start over?” He asked. 

“Absolutely, Scott.  I wouldn’t want anything else.”  You grinned.  

~

“Wanda, are you sure you want to go here?” You asked, looking down at the address she had written down.  She nodded, watching you grab the car keys and pull on a jacket. 

“Vision wanted me to go there.  He wanted me to see it.  Even if he’s not there to see it too.”  She looked down dejectedly.  You brought her into a hug before pulling the address up on Google Maps.  

“Alright, let’s go see this place.” 

The drive itself was quiet, the radio muted as you listened to the directions.  Neither of you spoke a word on the three-hour trip.  It was all the way over in New Jersey, which confused you.  What was so special about this place?  

You drove into a town that seemed run down.  People still lived in it, clearly, as you saw them walk down the cracked pavement following the street.  Some sat down in front of restaurants as others spoke in hushed whispers, clearly confused by the visitors coming to their town.  

You turned down countless streets that all looked the same.  Houses lined up next to each other with busy lawns, filled with weeds and trees that grew to monstrous heights.  Some of the homes didn’t seem to be very well taken care of, leading you to believe they had been abandoned there for years.  “Are you sure this is it?” You asked her once more, breaking the silence. 

“Yes, I’m positive.”  She looked down at a paper that she had finally pulled out ten minutes ago.  You couldn’t look down to see it, but out of the corner of your eye you saw red markings on it.  

“If you’re sure.  Then, this is it.”  You pulled up to an empty lot that sat between houses.  You stopped the car, watching her take a deep breath.  You finally looked at what the paper was.  It was a deed for the land.  The red markings were a heart, with a small message from Vision.  You smiled sadly at the note.  

“Thank you, Y/N.  Thank you for doing this.” She said, her voice failing her towards the end.  You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she unbuckled.  

“Do you need some time here alone?  I need to go get gas anyway for when we leave.  I can come pick you up in a few minutes.” You offered.  She contemplated it for a minute before finally nodding.  By the downward turns at the corners of her lips you could tell she couldn’t say anything. She got out of the car wordlessly and walked to the center of the lot.  

You drove away, watching her with sad eyes through your mirror.  You knew she needed this moment and you hoped it would only help her move on.  

You drove about a mile outside of town to get gas when you noticed the bright burst of energy behind you.  You could only watch in amazement as the red magic filled the air, creating a huge barrier.  You recognize it immediately as Wanda’s magic.  

Instead of getting gas you got in the car and drove back to Westview, reaching the barrier.  Its magic swirled and the energy radiating from it was warm, almost trying to drag you in with it.  You walked slowly to the barrier, looking for anyone else around.  There wasn’t a single soul.  

You knew you should’ve called someone, anyone, to help you.  You had no idea what this magic would do, but as you pushed your hand through it you knew it was too late.  You were immediately pulled into the barrier and you blacked out.

~

“Y/N, may I ask you a question?” He asked, watching Agnes talk to Vision once again.  You followed his eyes, noticing the strange aura that seemed to float around them.  It looked tense, as if they were about ready to start fighting about something.  

“Of course, what is it?” You asked. 

“Do you remember the time-” He stopped himself.  “Nevermind, it’s not important.” He saw Agnes look over at him, a deadly glare in her eyes.  Whether it was from fear or anger, her eyes seemed to send a chill down his spine involuntarily.  “I should get going.  There is some more business I must take care of and I’m sure you were on your way somewhere too.” 

“Oh, yes!  I was going to see if Wanda or Geraldine had power.  It seems like the power went out in a few parts of the street, so there’s your warning.  You may go back to a dark house!” The two of you shared a laugh. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” He began to walk away as you walked across the street.  Vision and Agnes were tense, so maybe you could break the ice. 

“Hey neighbors, how are you all doing?” You asked.  They turned to you, their faces breaking out in wide smiles.  

“Hi hon, what are you doing all the way over here?” She asked. 

“I wanted to see if Wanda was having any issues with the power as well.  It seems like something knocked out the power down the street.” You smiled.  Agnes nodded understandingly.  

“Unfortunately my house got knocked out too.  I just got it back though, so you may be in luck when you get home,” She turned to Herb once she finished her statement. 

“Well either way, hello Vision, how are you doing?” You asked, turning to him now that Agnes clearly didn’t want to talk anymore.  

“I’m doing just fine, Y/N, thank you for asking.  Well, I could be better.” He said, looking over to the house momentarily. 

“Why’s that?  Something wrong at home?” 

“Well, no not exactly.  Wanda was pregnant and she just had our two sons, Billy and Tommy.” He said it proudly, but then his mood took a turn.  “I’m just not prepared for it.  I’m worried something will go wrong.” 

“Wanda was pregnant?!” Was the first thing to come out of your mouth.  The last time you saw her was just yesterday and she wasn’t showing at all.  How did it happen so quickly? 

“Yes, she was.  It was a surprise to us all, I can assure you of that.  A happy surprise, of course,” He chuckled, trying to ease his worries himself. 

“Oh, don’t start with that Vision.  This will be wonderful!  You two have an even bigger family now.  And you know everyone around here is going to be super supportive of you two the entire time.  We’re all neighbors, we’re here to help whenever you need it.” 

He smiled, looking at the ground.  “Thank you very much, Y/N, it means a lot.  Wanda and I will probably need it every once in a while.  Handling one son would be a handful, but handling twin boys will be a challenge we didn’t expect.” 

“It’s nothing you guys won’t be able to handle, I’m sure.  Is she feeling alright?  Could I go see her?” 

“Oh yes, absolutely.  I’m sure she would be delighted to see you,” He smiled, stepping aside.  “I have to discuss something with Agnes anyway, so I will see you inside.” 

You smiled and nodded, walking into the home.  There you saw Wanda and Geraldine holding the babies.  “Well isn’t this a joyful surprise,” You commented.  Wanda turned around quickly, her eyes lighting up at your presence.  

“Y/N!  Welcome, come in, come in,” She smiled, looking down at Billy in her arms.  “I want you to meet my boys, Billy and Tommy.” 

Geraldine smiled softly and handed Tommy to you.  His eyes were shut but you could tell he looked just like a perfect mix of Wanda and Vision.  He fit in your arms perfectly, snuggled in his blanket.  “They’re beautiful, Wanda.” 

Tommy slowly woke up, his bright eyes staring up at you in curiosity.  You were surprised to see newborns be so active, but what did you know about babies?  Maybe they’re just a little different.  

He stuck one of his arms out of the blanket, pressing his hand up against his eye as he slowly woke up, trying to rub the tiredness out.  He cooed a little and you could see the love in Wanda’s eyes as he did.  “Hey there, little guy,” You smiled, holding up your hand near him.  When you placed your pinky in his hand he immediately grasped it.  It was such a simple act that made your heart skip a beat.  

You giggled and slowly moved your finger away from him.  “Oh, Y/N, could you please go grab something from my bedroom upstairs.  I have a book up there on the shelf.  It’s the second door on the right.  It’s a baby book and I want to know what else to expect from these two,” She said, pointing up the stairs.  

You nodded.  “Of course!  Here, Geraldine, can you take Tommy?” You gave her Tommy and started making your way upstairs.  

You found the door and entered.  It was a simple room.  The bed had a dark frame with white sheets.  The red comforter was tucked in neatly and the pillows were underneath.  The bedside tables had matching lamps, a clock on one side.  To the right you could see a closet hidden by two doors.  A bookshelf stood next to the closet.  That must have been the shelf you needed. 

The bookshelf was littered with different colored books of all sizes.  One was a dictionary, another was a fiction novel, another seemed to be on some sort of philosophy.  It was almost like you could pinpoint whose book was whose.  

The one book stood off to the side.  A baby blue cover, a little binkie on the front.  The title was simply “What to Expect: The First Year.”  It had a small red glow around it, much like the items in the store just yesterday.  You picked the book up and the glow dissipated.  You flipped through the pages lightly while beginning to walk out of the room. 

You stopped in your tracks when you heard a loud crash come from downstairs.  You ran towards the stairs, hiding immediately when you saw the large hole created in the wall.  Wanda stood across from it, the eerie red glow surrounding her hands.  It had to have been Geraldine who had gone flying through the wall.  She wasn’t there anymore and the hole was large enough for a person. 

You watched in amazement as Wanda began moving her hands around, the wall repairing itself.  It was like magic.  The red glow faded from her hands and she straightened out her dress.  She turned back towards the twins.  

To avoid raising suspicion, you began walking down the stairs.  “I found it!” You said, handing the book over to her.  She smiled and thanked you for it, opening the book to a specific chapter.  “Where’s Geraldine?” You asked, looking around innocently. 

“She had to go.  She didn’t belong.”

Oh yeah.  You have to get out of there. 

___________________________________________

Scott walked up to the house, knocking on the door.  He straightened out his suit as he waited for an answer.  This had to be the right house.  No other house was like it on the street.  If it wasn’t, he was about to be in big trouble by the boss.  

Loki opened the door, a gentle smile on his face.  “Hello-” He was immediately cut off as Scott walked in, taking his shirt collar.  He shut the door and slammed Loki up against it.  Loki’s eyes widened at the action.  “What are you doing?” 

A knife was quickly placed against his neck.  Scott glared at the man before him with steely eyes.  “Who are you?” 

“And why are you pretending to be me?” 

.

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@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth

[amiechuchu]

do you do requests? :D can i request for a fluffy doctor!reader and loki? i love your mmaatib series btw!

anon!! you're making me BLUSH!!! thank you so much for your support! and sorry if this came out a bit late i was feeling a bit under the weather the past few days. i also apologize for any errors btw! as you can see, i am a very very tired student who just wants her fix of loki too :'). anyways, i hope you enjoy!

Summary: because of y/n’s incessant pestering, loki turns y/n into a cat hoping that it would give him a moment’s peace.

Warnings: none

Catastrophe.

Loki had become accustomed to the smell of disinfectants that linger in the medical wing as his visits became more and more frequent. Although he hated to admit it, he loved the company you were able to provide. Maybe a bit more than the shared solace your safe haven have provided for the both of you. Usually, the low hum of the air-conditioning filled the room’s silence along with the small conversations you and Loki had shared. 

However, today was not one of those usual days. Today, you decided to reverse the roles, where you would be the one getting under Loki’s skin and Loki would be... Loki. Today, you decided that it would be fun to be the most annoying person in the whole Nine Realms. How? By disrupting the peace that graced this room, of course. You started off by imitating the Avengers to which he easily ignored. Then, you began imitating him, speaking of glorious purpose and whatnot, asking him to conjure his prized golden horns for you to use. Though the image that crossed his mind of you wearing his horns was temptingly adorable, his growing annoyance was far greater. Its evidence pointed at his deepening unamused pouty face.

The last straw for Loki was when you thought of imitating a variety of earth’s animals. You chirped, mooed, croaked, barked, and meowed. At that point, despite how much Loki loved hearing your voice, having a moment’s silence sounded so much sweeter to him. So, the God decided to turn you into the last animal you imitated... a cat. With a flick of his wrist, green swirls engulfed your form, and, in just mere seconds, you were transformed into a furry feline. A very cute one nonetheless.

You stood on your hind legs to admire your paws, mesmerized. Loki, on the other hand, looked pleased to see that your awe has taken over your sudden bouts of wanting to annoy him. He could finally read his book in peace, whilst stealing glances at your feline form every now and then to make sure that you don’t get into trouble. 

You took a few steps forward and a few steps back to see how comfortable it was to walk on four legs. It seemed very unnatural to you at first, but you managed. After a few minutes of walking, running, jumping, and exploring the area with your new form, you were confident that you had mastered the basics of feline movement. Without a care in the world, you began to sing Loki a song... in cat... very badly. In which, the lyrics you uttered were literally just meow, meow, meow, and meow on repeat.

“Loki,” you said in attempts to get the God’s attention. To your surprise, a meow still came out. The evident shock in your furry face shown as your irises were  enlarged and your mouth slightly open.

“Cats meow, pet,” Loki snapped at you, eyes still focused on the novel he was reading. “You know, for a mortal who treats people for a living and studies human physiology all their life, you don’t seem very smart. And no, before you even ask, I will not turn you back. ” 

Ignoring his remark, you jumped up to the table where he was situated. This time you kept tapping on his hands. “Hey, listen,” you meowed wanting the God’s undivided attention. “Wait, how can you even understand me?”

Before Loki could answer, the doors to the medical wing were swung open, revealing your boss, the one and only Tony Stark. Great. Immediately, Loki’s face soured upon seeing the man. His face all scrunched up and pouty again. You, on the other hand, pretended to be a good little kitty and lie down on the table, acting all cute and innocent. Tony wouldn’t notice, right? No, he would. But, he wouldn’t care, right? Hopefully.

“Reindeer games, have you seen the, uh, doctor in charge here. They are about this tall, and probably the only person who hangs out here majority of the time?” Tony asked, as he made gestures with his hands trying to picture out your height. He took a few glances at you - the cat - on the table as your tail gracefully wagged to-and-fro. Although a bit confused, he decided not to mind it, thinking that someone - maybe even Loki - adopted the cat and let them in the tower. Not that he really cared at the moment. Currently, the only thing nagging his brain was finding his precious doctor to finish their research agenda. This was the first time you were late and that worried Tony more than he’d like to admit. He wanted to find you before an overprotective uncle Bruce could notice, and, honestly, racing against that time period was too pressuring, even for him.

“I haven’t seen them,” Loki replied, making shooing motions with his hands. A signal that he wanted to be left alone already. The God went back to reading his novel until Tony left to scour the entire building for you, muttering something along the lines of calling Doctor Strange if he couldn't find you at all. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take it lightly knowing his niece was missing under his watch, so calling out the all-knowing sorcerer became his trump card in case dear old Brucie decided to kick his ass for losing you.

With Tony out of the way, Loki turned his gaze on you.

Actually, on nothing now.

Of course, you had to disappear for real this time.

An exasperated sigh came out of his mouth as he realized you ran away from him. It wasn’t long until the same sense of worry Tony had came over the God. Realizing his current situation, an anxious laugh managed to come out of his mouth. Look at him, Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, a literal deity, worried about the doctor who he turned into a cat.

At this point, panicked thoughts began to rival his own logical ones.

What if someone else had picked you up? You were in a form of a feline inside a facility that clearly doesn’t deal with any animals. It wouldn't be a surprise if someone took you. Undoing the magic with this situation in mind wouldn't bring as much trouble, right?

Loki thought of undoing the magic, but another thought popped into his head before making the decision. What if you were hidden in some cramped space just waiting for him to find you? He feared that undoing it while you were in hiding might be detrimental to your own safety. As much as you annoyed him, Loki wouldn’t want to see his favorite little physician hurt in any way. 

Upon weighing all the pros and cons of the situation they were in, Loki decided to look for you the old fashioned way: by himself. Magic would be useless in this situation. Knowing you, any form of telepathic communication Loki made would just be ignored. Though he loved playing all types of games with you, this one only stressed him out. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and thought of the different places he would hide if he were you. 

The God observed his surroundings as he decided to look for you inside the medical wing first. With you in feline form, you wouldn't have the strength to push open the doors, so he deduced that you wouldn't have gotten too far. Maybe you were under the beds, hidden in the shadows. Or even at the top of the shelves, away from plain sight. He began pacing through the whitewashed rooms, looking for more clues to narrow down the possible hiding places. Upon reaching halfway through the wing, Loki noted how the afternoon sun shone brightly, through the wide glass windows especially there at the far end of the room. Coincidentally, at the same area, he also spotted a seemingly occupied hospital bed with its curtains pulled all the way. The God took a few more steps as his brain continued to wire all the information together. Finally, it dawned on him. 

That was perfect place for a catnap.

Loki crept towards the bed's entrance, careful not to make any sounds to alarm you. Anxiously, he peered through the curtains, mentally cursing himself for the crinkling sound it made. Gods, how he prayed to find you there waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, he made his way inside the secluded area to find... you basking under the sun in feline form, all curled up and asleep. Thank the Norns.

Your rhythmic purring quietly resonated throughout the area. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, relieved to have found you. Although he was jealous of the fact that the entire time you were just fast asleep, while he had to go through such an ordeal. And so, Loki climbed on top of the bed in the most quiet way possible. Although he was slightly unsure of his actions, he did it anyway. No one else was there, no one else would know. So, there he lay beside you, comfortable with a novel in hand.

It was not long until all the adrenaline in his system died down, and Loki too needed a nap of his own. He stifled a yawn, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. As time passed, the God slowly drifted to sleep, and the magic that held your form was undone. Now, there you lay beside him, adorned by the golden afternoon sun. 

Still in deep sleep, you shifted your position, attracted to the warmth the God had brought with him. Realizing the change in position, Loki, as if by reflex, took his arm and put it around the small of your waist in attempts to keep you from falling off the edge, to keep you close. His head nudged yours lightly, and there he stared, captivated, at your sleeping form. There he realized how much he really cared for you despite how much of a handful you can be sometimes. It just felt right for him to have you pressed into his chest, to have his arm around you, to have you right there by his side. 

It just felt right for him to have you. 

“Sleep well, my mischievous little doctor,” the God said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before finally dozing off.

As the two of you blissfully slept, basking under the afternoon sun, somewhere around the tower there was a very angry Tony Stark, looking for the missing doctor. That didn't matter at all to Loki. The only thing that mattered to him then and there was you by his side, safe and sound.

It was enough for him that today didn't end in a catastrophe.

Taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff 

[crispin-kreme]

how to mend a broken heart ; kim sunoo

part 5/7 of the series

synopsis: every one is born with a heart that glows and it is visible amongst themselves. kim sunoo has the brightest heart and so do you. but a conflict arises between sunoo's life, making the heart lose its glow. gradually, sunoo has become numb to pain once his heart lost his glow. will you be able to ignite his heart again or lose him forever?

genre: angst, slight fluff, best friends to lovers au

pairings: student! kim sunoo x gn! reader

warnings: grammatical errors, car accident, and blood

notes: look who finally updated- im gonna finish this series in a bit because it just hit me that my classes are nearing (im starting on july 21 ew) so yea yall get the gist. sorry for not updating in a long time but anyways- enjoy! also thanks to @atsuwiee for helping out with the plot! <3

sunoo was probably born with the brightest heart amongst his classmates. he kept the brightest smile and he lets out the brightest laughter. being friends with him was easy. considering you both grew up in the same neighborhood and you both study in the same school.

he was a social butterfly and you were absolutely the quite opposite but you still managed to get yourself a small group of friends. your heart grew in an average level. you were happy and at times you were sad. unlike sunoo, you bet that his heart grows brighter than yours.

with sunoo’s bright outbursts of energy, you can’t help yourself fall in love with him. the way he smiles and his eyes quickly resembles a fox, the way he laughs at your lame jokes, and the way he talks gracefully about his day. oh you were a hopeless romantic over him. on the other hand, sunoo loved you from afar as well. he simply admires every thing about you. he loves you as well.

“y/n! how was your day?” sunoo says as he walks beside you “its okay.” you simply replied. both of you were exiting the school gates, school has finally ended for this day. both of you then just decided to take a quick stroll around town. “okay? what do you mean by ‘okay’?” he asks. “sunoo, i don’t have to explain that. its alright. my day went well.” you said with a soft smile placed onto your lips. sunoo smiled “good then!” he replied.

you looked at sunoo and asked “how about you? how was your day?” sunoo shrugged “boring as usual.” he rolls his eyes “why did the teacher even separate us into two different classes?! we were always in the same class, right? it’s so boring without you.” sunoo ranted and frowned “we literally live in the same neighborhood. you can come to my house anytime.” you pointed out. sunoo’s mouth became agape “...right.” he says.

sunoo quickly checked his phone and suddenly gasped “oh no- i was supposed to go to my groupmates’ house today!” he exclaimes. “eh- what for?” you asked “for a project. don’t worry, i think their house isn’t far from here.” sunoo explained. “okay- i’ll take a detour now. take care, y/n! call me when you get home.” he tells you before running away in a rush for a school work.

you sighed as you were left alone on the sidewalk. “gosh- i’m hungry...” you mumbled to yourself. the sun was almost down but that didn’t stop you from going to a convinience store and grabbing a snack as dark came.

as you arrived home, you threw yourself on your bed. it was about 7 in the evening already. you were still alone and your parents weren’t home yet so you decided to call sunoo since you arrived home.

he didn’t pick up. it was only a voicemail.

again and again and again. sunoo didn’t pick up.

you sighed as you faced your ceiling “maybe he’s tired...” you muttered under your breath. you did your night routine before you could even go to bed. you see your heart beating- still glowing so you didn’t really have a problem with anything.

all you didn’t know, as you fall asleep. sunoo is slowly being rushed to the hospital. with his blood stained face and an unbearable pain on his head, its no surprise that he might not even get through this night due to the accident.

the glow of sunoo’s heart started to dim.

hours into your sleep, someone calls you. you stirred in your sleep as you grabbed your phone under your pillow. you just assumed it was sunoo since he’s the only person who can call you at this ungodly hour. you picked up only to hear a woman crying over the phone. you immediately jolted up as you recognized the voice.

“mrs. kim?” you responded to sunoo’s mother. “y/n? i’m so sorry to call you this late.” his mother says apologetically “its alright.” you politely replied. “its alright. what’s wrong, mrs. kim?” you asked in curiousity and concern “well... its about sunoo.” his mother stated.

the news made you feel uneasy. you felt your world stop.

its been a week since the accident. sunoo wasn’t coming to school nor sunoo was contacting you. when you tried to visit sunoo, he forbid you to do so. his texts became shorter and blunt as well as his attitude. you checked the glow of your heart and it was still glowing at a normal rate. you wonder how sunoo’s heart is glowing right now.

sunoo’s heart completely lost its glow. sad to say, his condition made him numb to any pain. he wanted to be isolated. after that car accident, it was discovered that sunoo has turned deaf due to the severe head trauma he experienced during the accident. ever since he got discharged, he never showed up to school and contacts you at a seldom rate.

truly, he wanted to be isolated because of his condition. he feared that you will never love him back because he is now completely deaf. he could still talk but he still needs to learn some sign languages at the moment.

you didn’t hesitate to storm into his house (with the notice of his parents of course. you let them know that you were going to visit him). you made your way quickly into his house and in front of his bedroom. you knocked aggresively. you were a bit furious on why he didn’t want you to visit him thus, you being aggresive.

“open the door, fucker!” you raised your voice. sunoo was curled up in bed, not knowing you were there in front of his door. “i’m coming in you ‘lil shit.” you announced as you barged in his door. you saw sunoo curled up in bed, not noticing your presence. you closed the door and stood in front of him.

sunoo suddenly jolted up upon seeing your presence “y-y/n!” he stutters. sunoo needed to explain faster so that you could communicate with him. “before you talk. i have something to say.” he says. you sit down beside him on his bed. sunoo fixes his posture and looks at you straight in the eye.

“i- y/n, i-i’m deaf.” sunoo said. your eyes widened. “...so please. just type your response in the notes. i couldn’t hear you. i’m so sorry.” he explained, as he tries to regulate his voice. you were still in shock so you nodded and grabbed your phone. you typed in your response.

so this is why you’ve been avoiding me ever since the accident?

sunoo read your response and nodded in reply.

why? you thought that i would dislike you for it?

“yes...” he replied with his head low. “i-i really thought of that.” he added. still, you could see how sunoo was a bit blunt. but sunoo’s heart started to glow little by little, he could feel some warmth.

you listened to him carefully. sunoo’s tears started to form and fall down. “i- i love you, y/n! when i knew i lost my hearing, i feared that you’ll never feel the same way for me.” he explained. sunoo’s heart started glowing brightly again.

“its ridiculous to love someone who can’t hear, right?” he asked rhetorically as he wiped his tears. you couldn’t help but tear up too now that he confessed to you. you brought his face up to your sight and cupped his face.

sunoo reads your lips.

‘i love you too.’ is what you said and sooner later you had to type it in. but sunoo understood you.

“how-“ sunoo gets cut off as you kissed his lips. he wiped your tears “stop crying...” sunoo says as he tried to smile. “i love you so much.” he adds.

your heart glowed brightly like the sun so as sunoo’s. he feels your warmth again, he feels happy.

finally, even without hearing your voice, his broken heart is now mended.

would you like to proceed?

yes/go back

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

You’ll do wonderful with anything you write! But to help jump start your writing (as I know very well), Angst 14 & Fluff 11!!! ❤️❤️ - @snippy-tano

Thank you so much @snippy-tano for the inspiration! Although... I got a little carried away so here you go! A whole fic for you! 

Stitched Together 

Kix x Reader

Warnings: Blood. Mentions of injury and the treatment of that injury. Mentions of death.

You can find the prompt list here.

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” and “I think I’m in love with you.”

 You were running. The sun beating down on you as you ran through the camp toward the med tent.

 The transmission had come in while you were on your break. You had just been about to settle down for your first sleep in days after it looked like the campaign had started to calm down when your communicator beeped. It was from Jesse.

 Kix was injured. We are bringing him back to camp now.

At that, you instantly jumped up and put your boots back on as fast as you could. Now, with the med tent in sight, you saw Jesse and Hardcase carrying Kix between them on a small stretcher.

 The armor on his left side was shattered from his leg all the way up to his shoulder. He was covered in the tan dust that was constantly surrounding you on the planet and you could see blood seeping from one of the cracks in the armor around his middle.

 You ran up to the entrance of the tent, holding open the flap for the two carrying Kix inside.

 “What happened?”

 Jesse grunted as he and Hardcase lifted Kix onto one of the raised beds. “Seppies got word of our location. Kix here was working on a shinie when a charge landed near them. He threw himself onto of the kid to protect him instead of—”

 “What did you expect me to do,” Kix said with a wince as his right arm went to grip at his side. “I wasn’t just gonna leave the kid there!”

 You started to carefully examine Kix’s midsection, making sure that you were clear to take off his armor without doing any more damage.

 “And that is very admirable,” you said, quickly continuing your search, “but you’re the best medic that we have and one of the only senior field medics. We can’t afford to lose you.”

 “I can’t afford to lose you,” you thought, something tightening in your chest just thinking about not having Kix by your side anymore.

 “Oh, quit it with that,” Kix breathed out, his jaw clenching at the effort. “You’re just as good of a medic as me. Besides, it’s only superficial. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

 You rolled your eyes and smiled. Kix never was one to see the downside in anything.

 You heard Jesse start to laugh as he quipped something back at Kix, when your eyes landed on the piece of armor that was sticking into Kix’s side, blood still gushing from the wound.

 “Oh, kriff…” You meant to only say it to yourself, but your voice was just loud enough that the others could hear it.

 The tent went silent, all eyes turning to you.

 “What,” Hardcase asked. “What is it?”

 You leapt up, pointing at one of the junior medics that was awaiting your instruction. “Get me the surgery pack and the armor removal kit.”

 You rushed over to one of the storage bins and opened the drawer, grabbing a numbing agent, a sedative, and a blood cleanser.

 “Why,” Kix asked, his voice laced with pain and confusion.

 You walked back over to the bed, prepping the sedative as you looked at his face that was covered with pain. “A piece of your armor is stuck inside you and is still attached to the rest of your chest plate. Every time you breathe, it opens the wound more and you lose more blood.”

 Kix’s eyebrows shoot up in a mock laugh. “Oh, is that all,” he said sarcastically.

 “Shut up Kix! This isn’t a joke.” You stuck the sedative into his neck as the junior medic walked back into the room and handed you the armor removal kit. You then suck the numbing agent into his neck, telling the junior medic to prepare another one for his side once you get his armor off.

 He smirked, his head tilting toward you. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of funny to be the patient and know everything that is going to happen.” He blinked his eyes a couple of times, the sedative starting to take effect. “First you are going to have to cut off the armor around the affected area. You’re supposed to give five inches of clearance on either side, but I usually make it bigger to give me more room.” His words start to slur as the numbing agent makes its way through his bloodstream and the crease in his brow starts to loosen. “Then you are going to scan to make sure the piece hasn’t pierced any organs, but that takes time and blood flows quickly.”

 You give him a hard look before you start cutting the armor around his midsection, being careful to avoid his small movements beneath the armor as he breathes. You can see the shard in his side open the wound a bit more, causing more blood to spill out.

 “Then,” he continues, his words all melding together, “you’re gonna have to get the piece out and stich up the wound and stop the bleeding.”

 You finish cutting the armor and carefully pull the piece from its place. “I know what I’m doing Kix. Trust me.”

 He keeps going, not paying attention to what you just said. “Course, I’ll probably be dead from blood loss at that point anyways.”

 You grab the second numbing agent from the medic, sticking it into the flesh a little ways away from the wound. “Don’t say that. You’ll be fine.”

 “S-just the truth,” he mumbles. “Most men with somthin’ like this don’t make it past the scanning.” You see his head loll toward Jesse out of the corner of your eye. “S-because the armor shard usually does too much damage on the inside.

 You grab the scanner, running it over the area slowly trying to keep your hands steady. “Damnit Kix! Can you just shut up for once in your life and listen to me! You’re going to be fine!”

 You see Kix look at you out of the corner of your eye, wishing that you could see his face.

 “You have to be,” you whisper.

 Taking a deep breath, you keep running the scanner over the area, worry creeping up your spine as you slowly see the results filling the screen. “Jesse,” you snap out harder than you intended.

 “Yeah,” he asks quietly, not knowing how to respond to everything he has just heard.

 “Get him talking about something else. Nothing that will make him too excited. I don’t need him moving. The sedative is going to take just a couple of more minutes to work.”

 Jesse steps forward, crouching down so that he is almost eye level with Kix. “What should I talk about?”

 “Anything, just get him off of this conversation.”

 “Alright,” he says, apprehension in his voice. “Hey Kix, remember that seedy diner we found last time we were on leave? The one a couple of levels below 79’s? The one that had those burgers you loved?”

 The scanner beeps in your hand. You look at the screen, holding your breath as you read the results.

 No internal injuries found. Organs intact and functioning at 100% efficiency.

 You breathe out a sigh of relief, hearing Kix reply.

 “Yeah!” He is talking slow, struggling to form coherent words as they all slur together. “I loved that place. And I loved those burgers.”

 You pick up the surgery tools from the kit, starting to take the piece of armor from his side. You motion to the junior medic whispering for him to be ready to hand you the stitching equipment.

 Right after you finally pull the huge, four-inch-long piece out of Kix’s side, you see him moving, his arm coming up to point at Jesse with a big dopey grin on his face. “And I love you guys so much. You guys are the best brothers a guy could have.”

 You look over at Jesse as you press gauze to Kix’s side, sopping up some of the blood before you start the stiches. “Keep him still Jesse.”

 Kix’s head moves to look at you at the sound of your voice, the grin still on his face as Jesse lightly holds his arm down at his side. “And you,” he slurred out. “I think I’m in love with you.”

 Your jaw drops open, your task at hand leaving your mind for a fraction of a second before you turn back to your work feeling a deep heat rising on your face.

 You see Kix turn back to Jesse out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N is really the best. I love them so much. They’re just so nice and -kriff- so gorgeous. I just wanna sweep’em of their feet and kiss’em like it’s the last thing I do.”

 His voice starts tapering off, the sedative finally overpowering his will to stay awake.

 “Jesse?” His voice is groggy and barely above a whisper.

 “Yeah, Kix?”

 “This’s gotta be our secret m’kay? You promise not to tell Y/N?”

 You look over at Jesse, his head looking between you and his brother before he settles on Kix, a soft smile gracing his face. “Yeah vod. I promise.”

 Kix hums. “Thanks, vod. You really are the best.”

 You take a deep breath, looking at the blood-soaked gauze in your hand as everything that just happened rushed through your head.

 You couldn’t think about that right now. You had a job to do and you were going to make sure that you could see Kix after this, regardless of what had just happened.

 You shook your head and took another breath before holding your hand out to the medic and taking the needle before pulling the gauze away from the wound and beginning your work.

*******************************************************************************************

It had been a couple of hours since you had finally finished with Kix. You were able to close his wound without any issue and his vitals had been stable ever since. And, according to your scans, the blood cleanser was working perfectly.

 You still hadn’t had a break since then, having to tend to the rest of the men who were injured when the rest of the group got back. There had been quite a few major traumas as well as the usual minor injuries.

 But now, after the last of the men had been taken care of, the tent was silent. It was strange to have so much peace in the atmosphere after such a long period of pure chaos but you were just glad that you could finally check on Kix again.

 All of the scans were the same as they were before. He was stable, and when you checked the stitches on his side, they were holding up beautifully.

 You gave a sigh of relief before turning to one of the screens across from Kix’s bed, your back turned to him. Once you had everything logged in your datapad, you turned to leave so that you could go sit by the entrance in case any late-night injuries came in.

 “You know,” you heard from behind you, “if you keep working without sleep, you’re going to kill yourself.”

 You whipped around, seeing Kix smirking at you from where he lay on the bed.

 “Kix!” You rushed over to him, quickly glancing at his vitals monitor again before looking at his face. “How are you feeling?”

 He groaned, bringing his right hand up to rub his face. “Like I was blown up and then drugged. Which I think have worn off.” He looked up at you with a mischievous smile. “How much would I have to bribe you for another stim?”

 You chuckled and sat down, reaching behind you to grab one that you had already set out for when he was due for another shot. “Don’t you know it’s against the rules to bribe medical staff for drugs,” you teased as you gently angled his head so that you could inject the medicine into his neck.

 He grunted slightly at the feeling, but quickly relaxed once you pulled away. “You won’t go ratting me out, will you?”

 You laughed. “I promise.”

 At your words, Kix’s eyes widened, his body tensing before he winced and forced himself to relax again. His eyes now found place on his hands in front of him, which were now fiddling with the edge of the blanket he was under. He cleared his throat. “So, um… Did I say anything? While I was going under? Or-or was that just all in my head?”

 Your eyes widened in realization and you felt your face begin to heat up as you remembered his admission. “You, you um… May have said some things while you were going under.”

 He looks up at you briefly, an embarrassed look on his face. “Did I say what I think I said?”

 “Uh… yeah,” you said sheepishly. “But I know that the meds can make people say things that they don’t mean, like when we had to put Echo under on the last campaign?” You chuckled at the memory, clearing your throat as you realized Kix was still listening. You got up and began slowly backing away from his bed. “But anyways… I-I’ll just go, and we can forget that it ever happened. I know that you didn’t mean it and I don’t want things to get awkward. “

 You turned around but immediately felt a hand around your wrist. “Y/N, wait!” You heard Kix groan in pain and turned around to see him hunched forward so that he could stop you.

 “Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy! You’re gonna tear your stitches if you do that!” You lightly pushed on his chest to get him to lie back onto the bed.

 “Y/N, I-“

 “Now hold on,” you said, your mind switching into doctor mode. “I need to make sure you didn’t tear your stitches.”

 You lift up his shirt, and carefully inspect his side, checking for any sign of damage. Your hands grace over the skin just around his wound as you work in silence.

 After what feels like an eternity, you pull away and turn around to grab a bacta patch. “The stitches look fine, but the area around them is looking a little more inflamed than it should. I’m going to put a bacta patch on it just to be safe.”

 You pull apart the package, and once again silently begin working. You concentrate on the wound, being as gentle as possible as you place the bacta on Kix’s warm skin.

 “It wasn’t just the drugs you know.”

 His voice pulls you from your thoughts as you finish securing the patch in place with medical tape.

 You look at him, eyes wide as he stares right back at you. “What?”

 “What I said. It wasn’t just the drugs.” He reaches to his side and pulls your hand from there up to his chest, tenderly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for the longest time, but I just never knew how. I guess taking away my filter and thinking that I wasn’t going to see you again just… made my brain have to say it.”

 You don’t know what to say. Your skin was buzzing under his touch and you could feel your face getting hotter and hotter as your heart pounded in your chest.

 He continued. “I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just had to tell you. I needed you to know, even if just for a moment, that I love you.”

 “I do,” you blurt out.

 “What?”

 “I… I do feel the same way.” You start to smile as you see Kix’s eyes light up. “I never thought you would reciprocate, so I never said anything. But I do. I love you.”

 Kix smiled, bringing his hand that was not holding yours up to cup your face. His thumb ran over your cheek as he gazed at you with pure admiration. “Can I kiss you?”

 You sucked in a breath and smiled as you bit your bottom lip slightly between your teeth. You nodded and closed your eyes as Kix guided you forward.

 You felt your lips softly collide with his as your noses lightly bumped each other.

 As his lips moved against yours, it was tender and gentle and over far too soon.

 You both pulled back just enough so that you could look into each other’s eyes before bringing your foreheads together.

 “I love you, Y/N.”

 You smiled. “I love you too, Kix.”

 You then leaned forward and pressed another light kiss to his lips, feeling him smiling.

 “Well, I guess I don’t have to pretend to keep that secret anymore.”

 You whipped around, finding Jesse smugly standing in the doorway.

 “Shut up Jesse,” you said as you started getting up.

 You turned back to Kix, giving him a light peck on the lips and squeezing his hand. “I have to get back to work, but I promise that I will keep coming in to check on you.”

 He smiled at you squeezing your hand. “Don’t work too hard cyar'ika.”

 You smirked, picking up your datapad. “When have I ever taken it easy?”

 Kix chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I know. But just know that I am going to force you to take a three-day nap once I’m healed and can work again.”

 You laughed, feeling your eyes droop at the mention of sleep. “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that.”

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

An old friend - Part 3

Summary: The picnic has come and so the time to face Anthony on what you discovered, but will everything go as planned?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Other characters: Hyachint Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: slight angst (?), fluff, again some yearning

A/n: This has been quite difficult to finish, I had different ends in mind but none seemed to fit well the flow... I hope you’ll like this! Also, I may post other parts in the future but for now, count this as the final one. ENJOY!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Gif's not mine, credit to the rightful owner

When the time came to attend the picnic in Hyde Park, the day was nothing but perfect: the sun, for the special gathering, had decided to come out of the clouds to honor everyone with its presence and a warm breeze enveloped every figure walking through the gardens or simply resting on the grass with its embrace. Even the London sky didn’t look like its normal self, with no grey clouds all over; just a few white stripes painting the bright blue canva. In other words, the epitome of a summer day.

However, sat under the gazebo playing cards with Hyacinth, Eloise and Penelope, you felt much worse than a rabbit caught under the wheel of a carriage.

"Miss Y/N/L". You turned towards Hyacinth, who was pointing at the cards. "It's your turn"

"Very well..." you sighed, throwing in the space between the four of you the first card that came in your hand. Winning the game was the least of your problems.

You had spent all night rolling from one side of your bed to the other, playing and replaying every possible scenario in your head, looking for the right way to ask Anthony what you wanted to know without sounding too accusatory. Nevertheless, it was hard to face the man when he was nowhere to be found!

He had just a moment to greet you with a quick kiss on your hand - which, you couldn't help, had made your heartbeat rise as a river during a flood - before being taken hostage first of many beautiful debutants, second of their meddlesome mothers and lastly of some old friends from boarding school.

Right now he was somewhere in the park with them, possibly reminiscing of that one time they put black ink in the professor's shoes... or something similar to that, you imagined. You weren't so sure of what sort of jests could boys come up with.

"Miss Y/N/L". Hyacinth's voice reached you again through the bubble of your thoughts. You put down another card. It took you a second after that to realize that Eloise had no cards in her hands anymore, thus making her the winner.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry" you apologised, putting your left cards back in the deck. "I hope you didn't ask me anything while I was lost in my mind"

"Just if you were alright, miss" explained Penelope. "Did you sleep well last night? You look quite tired"

You sighed. There was no sense in keeping that a secret. "Not quite. Some matters just seemed to be stuck in my head and decided not to leave for the night"

Eloise's eyes sparked in interest. "What kind of matters?" she asked, eating a strawberry.

"Nothing relevant at all" you assured with a smile, but from the look on Eloise's face, you knew she wasn't finished asking.

"No irrelevant matter could keep anyone awake for an entire night" she pointed out. "But I know what matters could..."

Penelope sighed. "Eloise..."

"Family matters" she started, raising her index, "and heart matters". She bent slightly towards you with the Bridgertons' signature smile on. "Which does apply to you?"

You scoffed. "Neither, of course". As you lowered your gaze to the messy deck, the rays of the sun felt suddenly more focused on your face than on anyone else's.

"Heart matters, that is!" Eloise exclaimed with a single clap, her eyes smiling brighter than her grin. "Do we know the lucky gentleman who caught your eye? Or perhaps he is from the countryside? Don’t tell me: are you two secretly engaged?"

Before your cheeks became the same shade of wine, a deep voice intruded the conversation: "You shouldn't badger our guest with your inquisitiveness, Eloise"

Your head shot up to meet Anthony's gaze. Even though your feelings towards him were mixed at the moment, seeing him washed you over with a warm, soothing sensation, as the need of his touch grew within you.

Eloise huffed, standing up from her seat, immediately followed by miss Featherington. "You are a bore, dear brother. I have nothing else to say on this matter". Then, taking Penelope's arm in hers, she walked away, already whispering in her best friend's ear.

"Anthony, do you want to play with us?" asked Hyacinth, already preparing the deck for another round.

Anthony smiled gently at her. "Maybe later" he said, pinching lightly her cheek. "Why don't you go play with Gregory now? I've heard he wanted to see if he could find rabbits near the bushes... or perhaps even goblins"

Hyacinth gasped. "Without me?!". She quickly and clumsily got up in her dress and, after a small curtsey to you, she was running on the grass to who-knows-where.

Now that the cover was clear, Anthony laid down next to you, pointing his elbow on the ground to keep himself up. After adjusting in a comfortable position, he sighed, looking in the direction in which Hyacinth ran off.

"Should you think she'd be angry to find out I lied to her?"

You smirked, taking a card from the deck and fidgeting it in your hands. "About Gregory or the goblins?"

Anthony turned to you, raising his eyebrows. "Both?"

You shook your head, giggling ever so slightly. "You, Lord Bridgerton, are incorrigible: lying like this to your youngest sister... what a rascal"

A corner of his lips tilted upwards. "You should not talk like this to a viscount, miss Y/L/N" he murmured. His hand moved to your arm, his fingers stroking your bare skin, lighter than a feather touch and equally tingling. "I would say it was quite improper"

At this words you moved away from him, just enough so that his fingers could only touch the empty space between you. He searched your face but you were still staring at your card.

"I believe we should talk, my lord” you said, your voice still and steady more than what you expected. “However...", you looked at Benedict and Colin, who had just appeared in your sight and were directed towards the gazebo, "...maybe a walk would be best suited for such matters"

Even with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Anthony nodded, standing up again and offering his hand to help you. You gently accepted and he pulled you up. Nonetheless your feet got caught in the cover, making you lose your balance and ending up in his arms.

"I-I'm terribly sorry" you muttered, raising your gaze to his and finding him already staring at you. The warmth of his hands, steadying you, got past your gloves terribly easily and you found that being there, pressed against his chest, so near to his heart, was the only place were you wanted to be.

You took a couple of steps back, smoothing your wrinkled dress and taking a deep breath in. His closeness was like opium to you: even the slightest hint and you lost your mind; and unfortunately right now, you had to be present.

He cleared his voice, handing politely his arm to you. "Shall we go?". You nodded joining your arms and moved with him on the beaten pathway.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, as you tried to find the right words to start. Apart from sporadic pairs walking the opposite direction, you were the only ones strolling in the park at that time of the day, when the sun shines so bright it could make the blood in your veins boil; only birds kept uninterrupted their concert.

"Are you upset because I didn’t honor you with my presence all morning?" guessed Anthony, raising his eyebrows. “Trust me, I would’ve gladly spent more time with you than with any of my other acquaintances”

You shook your head, a smile gracing your face. "Certainly not, my lord: your family was very kind to me in your absence" you assured him. "Besides I'm not upset... I just want answers to what I've heard"

"And what, pray tell, have you heard?"

You moved your gaze from his; there was no way to sweeten the pot. "I've heard that, in certain circles, you are considered a rake; and" you added, before he could stop you, "that you've been spending time with various women last season, opera singers from what these rumours told me"

"And you believe these rumours, miss Y/L/N?". His voice didn't show any emotions but his muscles were tense as an arp string.

"That is why I'm asking you, my lord. I wish to believe it a lie, but your actions yesterday, as appreciated, had boldness in them... quite like Sir Feversham's"

Anthony stopped in the middle of the path, his jaw clenched. "Don't compare him to me, I am nothing like him”. His dark eyes seemed coal ready to be set on fire. “I would've never forced you into anything-"

"I know". You squeezed gently his arm against your side. "I know that, Anthony. Nonetheless, I’ve been wondering since last night if you consider me just as one of those opera singers and you’ll leave me alone like you did to them: my honor undermined and a broken heart to fix..."

"Do you really think I would do something like that?"

You raised your eyes to meet his. The lump in your throat, seeing the hurt look on his face, triplicated. "Haven't you done it before?"

Anthony clenched his jaw again, avoiding your gaze. Many emotions crossed his eyes before he closed them for a moment. Then, after giving a quick look all around, he started guiding you towards an almost hidden path through the hedges.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, confused and slightly frightened by the sudden change of course.

He glanced towards you with his lips curved. "You did want answers, didn't you?". When you nodded, Anthony slid his hand in yours. "Then there is absolutely no need to worry, miss Y/L/N, I can assure you that" he whispered, preceding you in that natural maze.

As you followed him, jumping over ponds of mud, protruding roots and avoiding overhanging branches, it felt for a moment like you were back in one of the fantasies you two came up with as kids, exploring the deep amazonian jungle in search of a lost civilisation or a hidden temple behind a waterfall; you couldn't believe they belonged to such a long time ago...

The hedges surrounding you ended abrubtly, opening on a clearing that looked like an illustration from a storybook: the grass, kept perfectly cut in the rest of the park, reached knee height there and, in between the stems, flowers popped out in the vivid green, their bright colours catching your eye.

However what left you mouth agape was the modest pavilion in the centre. Its classic columns, with ivy crawling around them, had almost invisible cracks on their surface, and the marble, if once polished, was now covered with a thick layer of dust and dead leaves. Still, even so neglected, its ruined beauty left you speechless.

"How... how did you manage to find this place?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers caressing the tall grass as you approached the pavilion.

"In the most common and simple way”. At your confused glance, he smiled mischievously. “Hiding from my mother"

“You even hid from your mother, my lord?” you smirked.

“Everything to escape her matchmaking schemes” Anthony laughed before a sad smile appeared on his lips. “Nevertheless, it was years ago, when I was still allowed to act as a foolish young man, from time to time”. He left your hand and started unbuttoning his tailcoat.

As he took it off to put it on the marble bench, your gaze wandered on his shoulders and down his arms, framed by his tight waistcoat and usually concealed under that thick layer of blue velvet.

"Shall we start?" he asked, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

You took a seat and noticed how Anthony was wringing his hands, his body again all tensed up. Without uttering a word - it was his time to speak - you took his hand in yours, stroking your gloved thumbs on his skin.

"I must say" he started, "that the market’s gossip is quite accurate... but still not enough to be a reliable source” - then, after a sigh - “because yes, I am a rake - or at least I can be consirered one - and yes, I spent most of last season at the opera house. However, unlike what those women told you, my only company was one beautiful and indipendent lady, whose name I’d rather keep unknown"

He looked at you, almost asking for your permission. "Of course, my lord, I understand". Anthony nodded thankfully before letting his tongue on the loose.

He told you everything you needed to know, his gaze fixed on nothing, eyes lost in memories that you could only try to picture in your head. Every emotion he’d felt in the past crossed his face as he spoke of every step of the affair, from their first meeting to their very last goodbye. You saw how difficult was for him to remember that latter part, even though months had passed since then. After all, no love can ever be truly forgotten.

"Looking back, I’ve realized only recently that she broke my heart just as much as I broke hers" he admitted, his gaze falling on your joined hands. “She deserved much better than the transitory pleasure I was able to give her... I still slightly regret what we could’ve been, but there’s no use in mourning the past”. He stroked gently the palm of your hand. “I’ve found the present to be an unexpected and more appreciated bearer of happiness”

You blushed as his eyes set on you, a welcome sincerity lighting them. However, there was still something, in a deep corner of your mind, that wouldn't let you enjoy the moment completely.

"Thank you for telling me all about it, Anthony" you said, watching him trace abstract figures on your hand. "But I do have one last question"

He moved your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on your covered wrist and lingering with his lips on that small spot. "You can ask me anything, Y/N"

After a deep breath, you fixed your eyes in his. "What am I to you?"

He furrowed his brows, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I do believe you fancy me" you started, looking away and fidgeting your hands as you spoke, "but I can't quite understand if your intentions with me are honorable or if you're simply using my company to your likings"

Anthony shook his head. “That’s nonsense, I would never-”

"Then do you intend to propose to me?" you asked, a rush of boldness flowing in your veins. “You know me, more deeply than any man I’ve ever met, and I found myself drawn to you in a way I’ve never experienced before... and I believe you feel the same”. He stared at you in silence. "I thought you wanted to marry as soon as you found a suitable lady..." you added, his stillness making your heart ache. "Am I not enough to be your wife?"

"Don't". Anthony cupped your face, his hands warm on your skin. "Do not say something like that ever again. You are not only more than enough, but more than I could've ever hoped to find... your intelligence astounds me just as much as your beauty hypnotizes me and I do believe you shall become one of the most accomplished Viscountess of Bridgerton that ever walked this Earth"

As his words beat in your mind ritmically with the pounding of your heart, you held your breath. "...but?"

"But I've rushed things in the past and burned everything I'd built to the ground, myself included. I don't want to make any mistakes with you, and if that means doing things properly, then be it". He stroked your cheek gently and you unconsciously leaned in his touch. "I've lost you once and I surely shall not make the same mistake twice"

You smiled, tears menacing to roll down your cheeks at any moment.

"Don't cry" he whispered, leaving a light kiss on your forehead and you laughed. His lips were as soft as you pictured them in your dreams.

"Don't mind my wet eyes... I'm just- I've never felt this happy before"

He smiled, placing one hand on yours. "Let's hope this will never change then". You nodded, smiling even wider.

So, as the sun went down and the wind kept blowing, you stayed there, talking, laughing, making up for all the lost time, in that little clearing out of time, and you wished you could stay there forever...

“We should go now” Anthony got up from its place. “It’s getting dark”

Making your way back in the reality it felt like waking up from a long, sweet dream, one that makes you wish you could sleep forever.

Your carriage was already waiting you at the edge of the park. Anthony helped you get into it as the gentleman he was. “Goodnight, miss Y/L/N”

“Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton” you smiled down at him, your hand still in his. “And thank you for the wonderful day”

He smirked and kissed your knuckles lightly, lingering again on the same spot where he kissed you for the first time. “The pleasure was all mine, my lady. I shall see you soon”

“Of course” you whispered not capable of even breathing. Anthony smiled, letting go of your hand as a footboy closed the door of the carriage. Then the coachman incited the horses and you were off in the night.

Resting on the soft pillows inside, you sighed, your eyes fixed on the stars outside the window. “Until next time”

Tag list: @lady1505 @truly-insatiable @littlemissbridgerton @anthonybridgertonsmistress​ @chaoticgirl04 @xceafh @latekate1807 @peoniarose @bridg-09 @michael-loves-chickens​ @beckachicago3​ (tell me if you want to be added or removed💗)

[ktheist]

02 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.9k

➙ warnings. explicit content. oral (f receiving).

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05  | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis. 

“can we have morning sex?”

“not today.”

x

“is that my brother’s shirt?” is the first thing kim taehyung says to you after a whole night of you declaring war against him for choosing his girlfriend over you.

your body clock’s designed in a way where no matter how late you go to sleep, you’ll always wake up at 8 in the morning. the question of whether you can go back to bed or not varies. like right now, when your stomach is grumbling because it’s decided to deem that the spicy carbonara ramen you had has lost its sustaining-abilities.

“uh, is that a woman-choosing, best friend-abandoning human i see?” you say, eyes squinted at said human.

“whatever,” that seems to have taken taehyung’s interest off the creme colored sweater hanging off your shoulders and way past your butt. you could’ve not word shorts when you went out to get yourself a bowl of cereal. mainly because the brothers have a similar habit of sleeping in until the sun’s shining directly into their faces and they’d have no choice but to wake up - that is, in the event that they forgot to shut the blinds.

“what are you doing up anyway?” you ask but it’s a no-brainer because every friday night, kim taehyung and you would never fail to release a week’s worth of pent up frustrations over playing video games until the crack of dawn, “don’t tell me you haven’t slept.”

“unlike some people, i’ve got things to do,” he steals away the bowl of cereal you just finished preparing for yourself, “places to be.”

you can’t even get mad at his brazenness, not when those eyebags make him look like he’ll pass out with one swing of your punch. and you do punch like a girl - besides the fact that you are one, it’s already a settled fact that you’re really not fond of the idea of wasting your energy on something pointless - so you tend to give the least amount of energy for, for instance - if you do choose to - punching kim taehyung who’s walking away with your bowl of cereal.

so you fix yourself a new bowl, savoring it while watching an episode of the tale of nine-tailed and spending the entire morning catching up to the latest episode. it’s only until half an hour past noon, do you strut back into seokjin’s room, noticing the lump under the sheets now shifting with a sign of wakefulness.

“morning!” you greet, hearing the sound of hymns trickling into chuckles as seokjin pushes the sheet off his face and steals a glance at the uncalled for being that’s perched on top of him.

“you’re up early,” he remarks, arms stretched over his head, muscles flexing deliciously.

“can we have morning sex?” you put on your best smile, lashes fluttering in what you hope to be a coquettish manner rather than someone who looks like they have dust in both their eyes.

“not today,” he says but his large hand latches on your right breast, massaging with a expertise before pinching on your nipple and making you jump in surprise.

“ah!”

but before you get to complain, he’s pulling you down and engulfing you into a warm but shirtless hug (on his part at least).

“not fair,” you pout but snuggle closer anyway, forehead leaning against his chest.

but it’s short-lived because thunderous footsteps start echoing in the hallway and sounding dangerously close with each passing second. for a split second, you watch seokjin watch you, panic spreading across his face before your hands instinctively push him away. then the panic dissolves into alarm as he calls your name, accompanied by another timber-like voice that’s shouting out the same syllables.

“___!”

and then your butt hits the ground, then your back and your head at the same time.

“whew chile, that sounds painful, you okay?” taehyung sounds concern, but he doesn’t take any step towards you to further assert your head - you could’ve had a concussion for all he knows!

“um, gee thanks for making sure,” you want to roll your eyes, but you’re too busy rubbing the spot where your head made contact with the floor.

but seokjin, ever the thoughtful person, is already climing over the bed and pulling you up with one heave.

“why are you shirtless?” taehyung suddenly inquires.

 the cozy creme sweater clinging onto your body feeling immensely inadequate as you ice up. he looks between you and his brother, screws twisting in that head of his before he asks another question.

“is that really my brother’s shirt?” his eyes scream concluded assumption.

well, it’s true, but-

“would you give me your sweater if i said i was cold?” you don’t give him a chance to respond, “no. right. so shut up. what do you want anyway? hurry up cause i wanna take a nap.”

“let’s play, the squad wanna go one more round with you before we all go to sleep,” he says, the matter of why seokjin is shirtless or if it’s really said man’s shirt you’re wearing now no longer a matter of importance.

you like how his brain works.

“the fuck? you came all the way here just for that?” you narrow your eyes, as if visually asking him if he knows whether he’s making sense or not but you get up anyway, walking towards your laptop that’s perched on the desk where you left it last night.

your friends greet you with less enthusiasm than they did last night - everyone sounded like they either need sleep or need a fuck. there’s no clear answer to what they need but you guess you’re up for one game.

“alright losers, let’s geddit.” your cheer is met with groans and tired version of ‘wooo’s and ‘yeah’s.

five minutes into the game, you feel a peck on your cheek and a smiling kim seokjin gazing down at you with bed hair and puffy cheeks. the smile you offer him back is fleeting because you have a character to maintain and a team to support. this time, you choose the supporting role while hoseok takes on the fighter role.

once you realize that the figure casting a shadow over you remains still and unmoving, you peek up at him for the briefest seconds to ask ‘what?’.

you’re only met with a higher tug of his lips.

and then he falls down on his knee - and you don’t even have the chance to wrap your head around it when he grabs hold of your ankle and spread your legs apart. lifting your ass up as he pulls down your shorts seem to be a muscle response than your brain actually understanding what’s happening. but by the time it does, seokjin’s face is already buried deep between your thighs.

“wah- yikes!” you manage to divert your surprise to the enemy that came on screen, forcing out a laugh, “th-that was a close one, whew i was about to die.”

“the fuck? you already had 8 hours of sleep what are you messing up for?” taehyung says into your headphone.

seokjin licking a strip up your love nub.

but that doesn’t stop you from retorting, “oh my god, did i tell you to play all night and not sl- sleep?” you bite back, barely managing to end your sentence with a consistent amount of sarcasm when the tip of seokjin’s tongue slips into your entrance.

“okay, okay, we’re all a little sensitive here,” jeongguk, the most competitive and non-losing-accepting out of the five of you actually tries to placate.

oh, you’re sensitive alright.

then he says something about how “we’re a team” and “if you wanna fight, fight the enemy team.” or something. you’re not so sure because you’re too busy clasping your hand against your mouth whilst trying to dish out healing powers to your team that’s fighting a few feet in front of you as seokjin tugs on your thighs, positioning them in an angle where his tongue can reach deeper inside you, so much so that your ass is almost hanging off the air.

“fine,” you almost choke on your supposedly vindictive reply as your toes begin to curl, back arching as the only sound that manages to escape you is a sob-like whimper whilst sparks erupt from the depth of your stomach and course through your veins like sweet, sweet poison.

seokjin kisses the inside of your thigh once your breathing slows down and you’re slumping on the chair like you have no energy left in you. jimin’s voice demanding you to cover for him barely registering in your brain as you click an ability that showers him with a protection spell.

“sorry, got distracted,” you say into the mic simply before hearing jimin’s “it’s okay, nobody died.”

literally.

if anyone of you died, it would’ve definitely been on you. last night, you got away with saying you weren’t in your ‘zone’ but today, your underperformance will be the reason you get kicked out of the squad for good. probably.

and because you’re under fire, you can’t stop seokjin when he slips away and out of the room, leaving you to make up for your mini blunder.

the game lasts a good 20 minutes before the golden symbol of victory flash across your screen and more energetic sheers erupt in your headphones. everyone starts bidding each other farewell and ‘good night losers’s before the headphones go quiet.

only then, do you bound down the hallway and into the kitchen where you know the reason of the sizzling, salivating scent is because of kim seokjin. a still shirtless kim seokjin with his beautiful, broad back on you as he chops something on the chopping board and gracefully pours it into whatever he’s cooking.

“that wasn’t fair - you should at least give me a warning,” you stand with your arms crossed over your chest.

“did the enemy you go against give you a warning before ambushing you?” he asks in a matter of factly, teasing smirk on his lips that makes your heart go flip flop.

he’s never smiled at you like that before.

“that’s- that’s different,” you refuse to back down, “they couldn’t even if they wanted to because the system doesn’t let us communicate with the enemy team.”

he nods whilst stirring the - you’d peeked - fried rice that’s sizzling in the pan, “i did give you a warning.”

“um where?” you can fee your eyebrows knitting together.

“the kiss,” he taps his cheek twice before shutting off the stove, devious smirk playing on his lips.

“i thought that was a bona fide peck!” 

“that’s on you,” he shrugs, pouring the fried rice into four plates, “like namjoon says - never assume.”

“okay, maybe he did say that,” you concur, taking a seat across from him where he places the plate and offers you a fork and a spoon that he took out from their respective drawers under the counter.

“something smells good,” taehyung comes popping out from the hallway, bowl of empty cereal in hand as his eyes light up at the sight of the two other plates placed between you and seokjin, almost as if knowing that the only other thing that coud summon the kim brothers out from their dwelling is seokjin’s cooking.

“i’m starving,” namjoon announces, seconds apart from taehyung’s assertion.

so you have breakfast - or lunch, really - together like you would. just four kids from the same hometown who found home in each other’s presence.

you might’ve found something else that you like in seokjin’s pants - but that’s besides the point.

x

note. and here we go for the 2nd installment! hope yall enjoyed!

taglist. @scalubera​ @aretha170​