#but i was SHOCKED you came back I figured the announcement of the cell games would send goku and his little friends packing

[bahamutgreen]

ok. i came after the 9 days.

what the fuck dude

and that's not all... i've also taken the abilities of your best fighters...

just watch this!!

*zip*

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving

AN: Okay I’ve given in and become a Zemo simp but Bucky is still my number one don't worry.

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, very slight Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,326

Warnings: Some small spoilers for Ep3, lots of sexual tension 

“I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.” You grumbled as you climbed the stairs, falling behind at the fear the men could see straight up the skirt of the dress Zemo had chosen for you. 

“I, for one, think you have the easiest job of us all. James must be someone he detests, Sam must be a notorious criminal he doesn’t know and you must sit and look pretty.” Zemo spoke under his breath as you came to the entrance of Selby’s HQ. 

You glared at the man but he didn’t care. He was too busy worrying about Selby. 

The door was opened for you by one of Selby’s men. Zemo nodded curtly at the guard before entering. 

You went ahead of Bucky and Sam to stay close to Zemo, following your role as his current inamorata. 

It was a short walk into Selby’s office but with every step you could feel the fear rising in your chest. You weren’t convinced that you’d get away with this; Sam wasn't exactly the most kosher criminal and Zemo’s story didn’t quite add up on just how he managed to have the Winter Soldier in his mitts again. 

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby spoke as she came into view. She was an expensively dressed woman with a short white pixie cut. 

Zemo sat down opposite her but you remained next to Sam. 

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo waved his finger as he spoke. It was a small yet dominant motion directed towards you. You tried not to clench your jaw as you walked towards him. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby’s eyes followed your every move as you made your way over to Zemo. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo held out his hand to you, guiding you to stand behind him.  “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” 

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby cocked her head towards Sam. 

Sam’s only response was a quick nod of his head. Selby purred at Sam, a wolfish smile on her face. 

“What’s the offer?” Selby turned back to Zemo. Her eyes flickered up to you before landing back on Zemo’s face. You weren’t stupid you knew what her gaze meant. 

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo pushed himself out of his chair. You watched him cross behind Bucky, placing his hands on Bucky's shoulders. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.” 

Selby grinned widely as Zemo wobbled Bucky’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, showing just how under control the ‘Winter Soldier’ was. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” Selby seemed to be convinced. “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.”

Zemo returned to his seat before Selby continued. 

“The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but... things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked. 

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby rose from her chair, finding a place beside Sam as she very openly let her eyes roll down your body now that you were in her full view. 

“What else do you desire?” Zemo questioned. He had clocked onto Selby’s behaviour and didn’t really need to ask to know what the answer was going to be.  

“Her.” Selby pointed you out. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she awaited Zemo’s response. 

“No, no, no.” Zemo tutted, holding out his hand for you to take. “This little bird only sings for me.” Zemo guided you round the side of his chair and pulled you gently onto his lap. You crossed your legs as you tried not to seem uncomfortable. The scent of the Baron’s cologne, mixed with his strong grip on your waist was making your heart race. You had never been this close to Zemo before and now you were sat on his knee with his arm around you. 

“Well, you’ll make her sing for me or you won’t be getting what you want now, Baron, will ya?” Selby wasn’t playing games. She folded her arms across her chest, cocking her eyebrows at Zemo. 

Zemo titled his head as he thought. 

You felt yourself tense up when he placed a cool leather clad hand on your thigh. His fingers started to draw circles on your skin, edging your skirt higher, drawing Selby’s eyes down to your legs. 

“She is very dear to me.” Zemo stated. He retracted his hand from your thigh to brush your hair from your shoulder, his finger traced a line from your jaw down your neck to your collarbone. Zemo, being so close, could see the goosebumps that covered your skin at his touch.  

“Unless you have something better to offer other than your two play things, Baron, I suggest you hand them over to me... unless you don’t want the whereabouts of Dr Nagel.” Selby let her smile drop. 

“I will––” Zemo was cut short by Sam’s phone going off. 

“Answer it.” Selby suddenly lost all interest in the deal and only desired to prove the authenticity of the Smiling Tiger. “On speaker.” 

That’s where things went wrong. 

For the rest of the trip in Madripoor, you didn’t get the time to confront yourself and Zemo on what happened back there. 

You were so confused to why you reacted the way you did. You had never been attracted to Zemo before but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he smelt, the way his breath tickled against your arm, the way the heat radiated out from under his thick coat. 

You knew he was thinking about it too. 

Every time you let yourself glance over at him, he was watching you and not in the same way as he usually would. You knew too well that Zemo often studied his surroundings like a hawk. He was silent and observant; he always knew where he would go next and he often watched you, Sam and Bucky as if he were calculating your next moves. 

It wasn’t until you arrived in Latvia that you were confronted by your feelings again. 

You were sat at the island in the kitchen as you ran your hands over your face and hair. You were tired. 

“You should rest.” Zemo’s voice suddenly snuck up on you. 

He had been so quiet walking into the kitchen that you hadn't even noticed he was there. 

“I should but insomnia kinda comes with the job.” You sat up, trying not to act any different from how you usually would. 

“Ah. My time in a cell has acquainted me with such the dilemma.” Zemo confessed as he moved towards the cupboards on the back wall. 

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t help but watch his hands as they reached for the coffee pot, his fingers gripping it lightly. You could still recall the feeling of the cool leather on your thigh, his touch climbing higher as he pushed your skirt up...

“Coffee?” Zemo offered, interrupting your thoughts as he raised a mug and an eyebrow at you. 

“Please.” You folded your hands together as you leant on the island. 

There was a brief comfortable silence as Zemo fixed up some coffee for you both. He could feel your eyes on him but he didn’t say anything. He just let the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk as he poured you a cup. He let the smirk drop when he turned to face you.

He slid the cup along the countertop and you thanked him quietly. He pushed a thin smile onto his face for a second before returning to his usual stoic expression. 

“There was something I wished to discuss with you actually.” Zemo announced as he picked up his own cup. 

You almost choked on your drink at the words but you hid behind your mug, hoping he didn’t notice. He did.

“About what?” You asked. 

“I wanted to apologise for Madripoor.” Zemo surprised you with that. 

“Apologise?” You were confused to what he was talking about. 

“I am aware that it was merely a role, that we were undercover, but I touched you without your consent. I wanted to apologise for when we were with Selby.”

You were completely shocked. You didn’t not expect this from Zemo at all. 

“It’s okay. We all have to do stuff we don't want to do on missions like these.” You tried to brush it off. After all, Bucky had to become the Winter Soldier and Sam had to drink a cobra’s heart back in Madripoor. There was definitely worse things that could’ve happened. 

“I never said I didn’t want to do it. I am simply apologising for not asking for permission first.” Zemo’s eyes were glued to your face as he sipped his coffee. He was watching for a reaction. 

You felt your mouth go dry, you tried to swallow as you began to rise from your seat. 

“Uh, t-thanks for the coffee, Zemo but...” You tried grabbing your mug but you only knocked it to the floor by accident. 

“Shit!” You hissed as you bent down, picking up the broken bits. You felt your heart racing from the look Zemo had just given you.

Zemo rushed around the island with a rag, he placed it over the split coffee before taking hold of your wrist to stop you from picking up the pieces. 

Electricity shot up your arm and your head snapped up to meet his eyes. 

“No use crying over spilt coffee.” Zemo muttered, a smile tugging on one corner of his mouth. 

“I-I wasn’t––”

“––Is there a particular reason you are so jumpy tonight?” Zemo inquired. 

You rose back to standing; Zemo let your wrist go as you did but followed your action. 

The air was thick between you as you withheld your answer. 

There was no way you could admit you were worried of being close to him because of the undeniable pull he had on you since that night. 

“I think...” Zemo stepped over the soaked rag which only made you take a step back. “...You enjoyed being touched and now you are confused to why.”

Your chest began to rise and fall heavily as Zemo continued to walk towards you until your back hit the wall behind you. 

“But forgive me if I am wrong.” Zemo held his hands up with a smile, taking his final few steps until he was close enough for his cologne to engulf the air around you.

“You are.” You whispered but your voice had failed you in sounding convincing. 

“Is that right, little bird?” Zemo used the pet name he had given you in Selby's office. He lifted his hand to brush your hair from your cheek behind your ear. “Because I believe you haven’t stop thinking about it. Just as I haven't.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You only just breathed out your words. If Zemo hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard them. 

“Don’t you?” Zemo titled his head at you. “Because I am at liberty to remind you that I once worked for Sokivian intelligence. It was my job for a long time to study people, learn them, read them.” Zemo let his eyes drop down to your body before coming back to meet your eyes. “I can tell how a person is feeling just from observing their body. The way they move. The way they are breathing.” Zemo placed his hand in the centre of your chest where your silver necklace sat. The metal burned against your skin underneath Zemo’s warm flesh. 

Your slow deep breaths lifted Zemo’s hand up and down as you stared back at him. 

“I can feel your heart racing.” Zemo uttered. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You shook your head as your eyes flickered to the man’s lip for just a second. 

“Good.” Zemo smirked. 

Suddenly Zemo was ripped away from you. 

Bucky had teared Zemo back and pushed him across the room. Zemo staggered backwards before standing and adjusting his sweater from how Bucky had grabbed him. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled at Zemo with a look in his eye that could kill. 

“I was merely having a conversation with (Y/n).” Zemo shrugged, acting as if everything was perfectly innocent. 

“Oh yeah it looked like a real polite conversation with (Y/n) backed up in a corner and your hands on her!” Sam was stood behind Bucky. The both of them were squaring up in front of Zemo to protect you. 

“I didn’t need your help.” You stepped forward, trying to intervene. 

“You put your hands on her again; I won’t stop myself next time. I’ll turn you into a new coat.” Bucky warned Zemo as he ignored you. 

“I apologise.” Zemo lifted his hands up in defence. 

“No.” Sam pointed back to you. “Apologise to her.” 

Zemo turned his head to you. When your eyes met, he smirked just ever so slightly, you knew the boys didn’t notice at least. 

“I apologise, (Y/n).” The way your name sounded in Zemo’s mouth made your stomach flip. 

“It’s fine.” You said before pushing past Bucky and Sam. You hated it when they played protective big brothers and you didn’t even need saving... You think...

(PART 2)

[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?” 

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 4 (Rowaelin)

THANK YALL FOR BEING PATIENT I AM SO SORRY

Parts 1 \ 2 \ 3

________________________________

Journal Entry #2000

Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to die.

To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.

I wasn't always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man's murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.

Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.

I couldn't believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others--couldn't believe she'd agree to fight this battle because of my decision.

I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I'm being honest.

Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she'd held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn't bring herself to kill me.

Sometimes I think it would be better if she would've just done it.

At least it would've been over.

At least I wouldn't have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that's what's driving me mad, beyond anything else.

The predictability of my time.

Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.

I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel's face next to to the words, "Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead."

Because that was her only stipulation.

That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.

She'd warned me it would take a long time.

She'd told me to not get complacent.

And then she'd whispered what she planned to do.

Even now, over five years later, the words she'd whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.

"The devil isn't going to go down easy."

~Aelin~

The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.

The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.

Unfortunate for them.

She wasn't afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.

And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.

She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.

Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.

A killer wouldn't do that.

Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.

It was dark in the cell, but she'd recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.

"Rowan?" she whispered, so quietly she almost didn't even hear herself. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he'd heard her.

Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.

For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.

His hair was going every possible direction, like he'd been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren't even tied.

But that wasn't what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.

He didn't even look like he was breathing.

"Hey," she tried again. "What's going on? Look at me."

Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.

"Please, Rowan. Just look at me."

He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.

And then his head came up.

Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she'd wanted, what she'd needed, Aelin instantly wished he'd look away.

Because with one look, she knew he'd figured it out.

He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes... she'd put that there.

She'd seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she'd never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.

He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.

"Rowan," she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn't know why.

He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.

"Ro," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan's shoulders started to shake.

And then he sobbed.

It was the kind of sob that couldn't possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.

"I ruined your life," he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. "I ruined your life."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Anger bled into his tone. "I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren't even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn't listen to you, didn't look hard enough. I've had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn't even try hard enough to... I... please explain to me how I didn't ruin your life."

"You did not ruin my life, Rowan," she told him again, meaning every word.

"Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don't even understand how you can look at me." He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. "No wonder you hate me."

His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.

And she'd thought he hadn't cared.

Aelin felt like a fool--a horrible, stupid fool--for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.

Because this was technically what she'd wanted. What she'd planned to happen.

She'd wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she'd felt when he'd led the case against her.

But it wasn't what she wanted anymore.

Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, "Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you."

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "No-"

She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.

Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.

He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.

It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered after a moment.

She shook her head, but it didn't matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.

Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he'd felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.

Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.

"I'm so sorry, Aelin," he whispered yet again.

"Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren't the reason I'm in prison."

"Yes, I am," he insisted, shifting beneath her. "But I'm getting you out right now."

He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.

"What?"

He nodded quickly. "We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it's not the same, and I know I can't get you these years back, but-"

"No."

He paused. "No?"

She shook her head. "I can't leave yet."

"Leave? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I still have shit to do here. I'm not leaving before it's done."

His eyes narrowed. "You're acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?"

Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.

Rowan's mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn't decide what to say first.

He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, "I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?"

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "That's what you care about right now? Seriously?"

He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.

It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.

"You've been sneaking out this whole time."

She nodded.

Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she'd occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.

"You beat up your roommate so they'd put you back in solitary."

Aelin nodded again.

"But how did you know they'd bring you to this cell?"

A small smile pulled on her lips. "Look again," she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.

He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn't stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.

He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. "You... you tunneled into prison?"

"Into every solitary cell," she confirmed.

"When? Why?"

"One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but... getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I'd plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it." She smiled. "Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it's safe for me to use now."

Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. "That's... genius."

"I tend to be," she agreed.

They were both silent for a minute, then he said, "You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now."

Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.

It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.

She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.

When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.

"Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel."

Rowan's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.

"He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she'd vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit." She took a deep breath. "The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her."

His jaw clenched.

"I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I'd get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up." She let out a laugh. "But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered ten of Sam's jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he'd put nine more names on the list."

"So you didn't do it," Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.

"So I didn't do it."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. "I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan."

"Why Aruba?" he asked.

"I'd done all that research for our trip," she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. "I didn't have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of... own it."

"I own a house in Aruba," he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn't understand.

She rolled her eyes at his tone. "Arobynn might be a bastard I'd love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn't know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house."

"In Aruba. In my name."

She nodded. "No one can trace it back to you. It's hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you're the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present."

"You bought me a house," his lips twitched. "For a Christmas present."

"I was in love with you," she muttered. Then pointed out, "My lack of shopping impulse control really isn't the point of the story."

He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. "Please continue."

"Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I'd be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they're alive, he'll send someone for me."

She explained the list next. "He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons" and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn't still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn't forget them."

Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.

He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.

Everything he'd been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn't make him feel any better about the role he'd played in all of this.

He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He asked it almost casually, but she didn't miss the pain he couldn't keep from seeping into his voice.

"I wanted to," she breathed. "Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me... you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn't believe me."

Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.

"How is all of this going to play out?" he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. "And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?"

She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.

Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him... he'd realize she's guilty of the crime she's in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.

And she just got him back.

She's pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words final.

Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.

A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn't exactly what she'd been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him. Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.

So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.

"Promise?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I promise, Aelin."

His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm never going to leave you again. I'm so... I'm so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should've come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent."

"I'm sorry I thought you didn't fight for me," she said back. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

They'd both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her.

The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, "And I'm sorry I stole your bed."

He pulled back to glare at her. "You're going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I'd like the answer to my other question first."

Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.

"Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question."

He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, "As long as he's alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he's dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me."

He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, "It's why I've been in prison for so long. I would've killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He's been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him."

"Okay, but Aelin-"

She cut him off. "I know it's insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he's dead, and then it's over."

He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

And then he did the weirdest thing.

He smiled.

"What the hell do you look happy about?" she demanded. "I'm being serious-"

It was his turn to interrupt her. "Aelin, if that's the stipulation, you're already free."

Unease drifted through her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's already dead."

Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. "What... what did you just say?"

"That's why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn't going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn't bring everyone back without risking your life. I've spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn't have extradition."

He grinned again. "But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he's dead, Aelin."

Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, "He's not dead."

"But he is."

"No," she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. "He can't be dead."

His face softened at the panic in her voice. "Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-"

"No, Rowan, you don't understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven't finished killing him!"

It was his turn to be shocked.

"What do you mean you haven't finished killing him?"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I've been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little... extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive."

Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her "victims" were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?

It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.

His eyes went wide. "What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because," she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she'd traded her freedom for. "I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren't safe."

She shook her head, whispering, "I told them to watch the news."

Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.

"He knows."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.

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[universalistotalis]

Someday

Miya Osamu x Female Reader

Fluff fluff fluff to a little angst

Mention of Mommy Miya and Atsumu lol

2.9k words

Masterlist!!!

You wiped the sleep from your eyes as you were woken up by one of your family members who sat beside you on the bus. People queued in line to exit the vehicle that’s stopped in front of the airport and you can hear the soft chattering of the passengers as they lined up the aisle.

It feels sad really. To be leaving a country that you’ve explored for days on end, enjoying the culture, the view, the food, and all the little details in between. You wrapped the jacket more to your figure as the cold and the sadness crept into you. You welcomed the feelings though, because it meant that you had such a wonderful time that you didn’t want to let go.

Blinding lights made your eyes squint as all of you entered the gigantic airport. ‘Here we are’, you said to yourself. The busy goers walked and jogged past you here and there, some were loading heavy bags trolleys, some were panicking while looking at the schedule, and some were just chilling at the aligned chairs, sipping a cup of coffee.

“So, we’ll go check- in on our flight and we’ll go to the duty- free shop for souvenirs. All right?” You just nodded at their plan because they’ve been repeating that ever since you went out the hotel room where you stayed.

-

As you had hoped, the duty free shop was so full of things that you wanted. Just packed with all the goodies like the country's famous snacks, the foreign cosmetics that you adored, and even the cool relief patches that you tried and were so amazed at. Good thing you were given enough money to purge on what you wanted so you filled an entire basket! After all, you never know when you can come back to this country again.

“Excuse me.” Someone from behind you cleared his throat.

You were busy looking at the label of one of the beauty products from the shelf that you didn’t notice that you were blocking the narrow column.

“Oh sorry.” You apologized and scooted a little so that the person could pass. You turned to see the man and your whole body froze for a millisecond at the sight. The air felt electric all of the sudden as your gazes fixed on each other. He was the first one to look away and go on his way normally, as if not feeling the surge of adrenaline that you just felt.

“Damn, he’s beautiful.” You whispered. You swore you have never seen someone that beautiful in your entire life... EVER! And it wasn’t helping that his body was so built and tall and that his hair had this ombre gray color going on. No one’s supposed to look good with that hair color but why did he pull it off?! How?!

“Samu! I found your favorite cookies from yesterday!” An loud, excited voice made you jump from behind and you turned around in reflex. You saw the beautiful man earlier, standing at the end of the aisle and examining the pack in his hands while nodding. “I told you we could find it here! C’mon, let’s get more!” A tall blonde man next to him said while dragging him away.

You blinked, trying to process what you saw. Wow.

That’s it! Some people are just god’s favorites, aren’t they? You thought you were having issues with your vision but it was clear that there is not only one beautiful man. But TWO! He has a twin and good god, they were both so fit!

‘Does this store have a sale on these guys because I would like to purchase, please!’ You just chuckled at your crazy, thirsty thoughts and proceeded to checking out the things you bought.

-

They never left your mind. There were still five hours to spare before your flight but not once did they, especially he, stop running in your head! You scolded yourself one too many times this past hour because of the scenarios flooding in. There were date nights, traveling to different countries, petty fight scenes, cute nicknames, and all the sappy shit that couples do and say. You’re just hurting yourself really, and you had to stop!

The gods just wanted you to have a good one minute of your life and that’s it. You’ll never see him again!

You sighed and excused yourself to get a beverage that’ll quench your thirst from so much daydreaming. The nearest vending machine that you saw was at the other waiting area so you had to walk a little bit further. Your eyes were already set on the juice drink once you neared the machine.

“Hey, y/n!” You looked up questioningly as you saw your family waving and approaching you. “Let’s stay here a bit. People are beginning to flock there and I don’t like it. Besides, we can see if they’re already boarding from here.”

“Alright.” You agreed. “You want anything from the vendo?”

“Anything that you’ll have please.”

-

You sealed the top cap of the bottle mindlessly while staring blankly at the the vending machine. Your fingers were a little numb from the cold drink but you didn’t mind. You allowed yourself to be overly emotional at the thought of ending the vacation and of not having the boy you swore would be perfect for you. How could a single meeting that lasted for seconds affect you so much?! A small, sad chuckle left your lips because you knew you were so damn whipped but that didn’t really matter now.

-

“You’re so damn whipped, man! What, you’ve known her for like five seconds and now you think you’re in love with her?” Atsumu hissed, looking at his brother like he had grown two heads.

“Shut yer trap, Tsumu.” Osamu snapped out of his daydream once his brother’s voice penetrated the peaceful area.

“Then stop staring!” Atsumu laughed and shook his head. He took a glimpse of the person behind him to check the girl out and he had to admit, you were pretty even in your simple clothes.

“Hey.” Osamu called, a hint of warning laced in his deep voice.

“What, I wasn’t looking!" Atsumu dramatically puts his hand up in the air. "Stop being possessive of your five- second girlfriend, sheesh!” He teased more as he was met by the scowling face of his twin.

“I’m not in love with her.” Osamu scowled and folded his hands together like a toddler.

Atsumu was trying so hard not to laugh at his state and denial. “Look, Samu. We practically came from the same cell, you don’t have to lie to me. If it makes you feel better, we’ll reduce it to a crush. Now, how does that sound?”

Osamu rolled his eyes but he knew Tsumu was right. When he saw your eyes from the store, he felt a prickling sensation in his whole body that it shocked him a little. He swore all the hairs on his skin stood up at the encounter and that was the first time he ever felt that way! And what are the odds that you came to sit on their waiting area, giving him such a good view?

“Honestly, bro. You’re being creepy.” Osamu massaged the bridge of his nose in despair as his twin clicked his tongue in judgment.

“And you’re being annoying.” He countered.

“Cool down! Why don’t you go get us a drink then?” Atsumu smirked and challenged.

“Get your own damn dr—“

“That would be great, honey! Can you please get me water too? I’m getting a little thirsty from waiting.” They both whipped their heads at their mother who was smiling so sweetly and both melted at the sight.

“Okay.” They said in unison and got to their feet in a flash.

“‘Kay, here’s the plan.” Atsumu announced while acting like he’s warming up for a game.

“What plan? We’re just getting drinks?!” Osamu regarded him questioningly.

“We are just getting drinks but the vendo’s in front of your girlfriend, dummy!”

“Shit!” Osamu's eyes widened as he cursed. He hated that Atsumu was making sense. They do need a plan!

“It’s so hard to be the smart brother. I gotta do all the work!” Atsumu sighed dramatically earning himself another eye roll. “So, the plan is…” He paused for a while, trying to get his brother’s attention.

“What?! What do we do?” Osamu's patience was on thin ice and his frustrating brother is not helping one bit!

“Wow, you’re really trusting me on this, huh?” Atsumu stared at him in wonder. “Damn, what did that girl do to you?”

“God fuckin’ dammit, Tsumu, you’re wasting time!” Osamu strangled and shook him lightly. The other just laughed his ass off while trying to break free.

“Boys.” The warning tone and stoic gaze from their mother were enough to make their way to you. To the vending machine, that is…

“I’ll stay here, lover boy.” Atsumu patted Osamu’s back as they neared the destination which was just meters away from their seat.

“Wait, what? No—"

“Don’t be scared, you dummy. You can do it!” Blonde hair swayed in front of Osamu’s face as Atsumu danced a little cheering dance for him. “I’ll have cola, by the way. Now, go!”

Osamu tripped a little as his back was pushed but he didn’t seem to care as he was nearing your crouching form. You were just so damned focused on that phone that you didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Okay, we're just going to go through this like a normal person, Samu. No big deal." He whispered to himself.

“Y/n.” One of the persons beside you called. “I want the juice again pleaaaase.”

He saw your head perk up and was stunned when you laughed at their plea. “Alright, alright! Same flavor?”

Osamu didn’t realize that he was nearing the vending machine the same time as you were as he was so distracted by your charm. So your name was y/n and you had such a cute voice. And definitely a cute smile. Somehow, that was enough to make his imagination run wild!

It all happened so fast and you became aware of his presence a little too late. All you knew was that there was suddenly a looming figure on your left and you jumped in surprise, not meaning to.

“S-sorry.” He stuttered, a little surprised at your reaction too.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You smiled and bowed your head politely at him, praying to all the gods that he doesn’t see you blushing nor hear the heartbeat from your chest. “You go first.”

He blinked and looked down at you questioningly but he declined gently. “No, no. I can wait. Ladies first.” He gestured and stepped aside.

“Alright.” You smiled again.

Your mind was going a hundred miles per hour! You never thought that going to vending machine would be the hardest endeavor of your life! With hands shaking slightly, you inserted the coins until they reached the exact amount of the drink that you wanted and you pressed on the button that suddenly lit up.

A sense of dread flooded your being because that was it. After you press the button, you’re going to go back to your normal life. You were going to turn around and leave and never see that face again.

But as you stood there, you wondered why there wasn’t that familiar sound of the bottle dropping for you to claim?

“That’s weird.” You whispered and crinkled your nose. Your finger pressed the button again... and again, hoping that it result to something but to no avail.

“Is it broken?” His voice echoed the question in your head.

“I don’t think so.” You pouted a little. “I was able to get the same drink a while ago.”

Both of you just stared at it for it moment.

“Kick it.” He suggested, while putting his hands in both of his pockets and cooly transferring his weight on the right side.

“What?” You asked, horrified.

You were flashed with his laughing grin and crinkling eyes. “No harm in trying. C’mon!” He encouraged.

“If I get in trouble, you’re going down with me.” You warned but then you took him up on his challenge and kicked the bottom of the huge metal.

And truthfully so, the bottle dropped.

He crouched down and fetched the cold drink in his hand while still grinning like a fox. “Okay, I didn’t think you’d actually do it but here you go.” His voice was so heavenly to hear especially when it was still alight with humor. His eyes looked at you so sweetly that you were effectively just stuck there, under his spell.

“Thanks.” You chuckled and took what he was holding out. At the touch of your skin, the both of you jumped at the sudden and strong electricity that coursed through your veins. It was the same thing you both felt at the store but this time, it was stronger!

“Woah.” He said in awe. “I—"

You rubbed the back of your hand as if it stung and gazed up at him to take a good look. He had kind, brown eyes below his bushy eyebrows and thick, plump lips below his pointed nose. His cheeks were dusted pink which was cute. But his jawline contrasted as it was ready to cut your heart open. His gray hair was tousled too which matched his cool look and outfit of dark blue jeans, white shirt, and a leather jacket.

“T-thanks for this, again.” You stuttered. “I gotta go now.”

“N-no, wait.” He stuttered as well while instinctively pulling your sleeve by the hem. Another surge of lightning shot through you but you managed to smile back at him.

“Yeah?”

“W-what if it doesn’t work on me?” He said, sheepishly. “I need your kicks.”

For the first time since you met him, you started to relax so you let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, I’ll be right here.”

Osamu smiled gratefully at you before turning back and loading his coins. His ears rang at your words, ‘I’ll be right here’. He hoped you would be for a long time but that’s just wishful thinking.

One… Two… Three… Four…

“Wow, how many would you take?” Your amused voice made him grin again.

“It’s for the whole family.” He shrugged and crouched for the fourth time to get the drink. “This would be the last.”

“Good thing it didn’t break!” You said and again you were met by the awkward silence and him just staring. “Uhmm…”

“I’m Osamu, by the way.” He blurted out suddenly. “Miya Osamu.”

He tried his best to hold all the four drinks in one arm and extended one out to you.

“Oh… uhm…” Fuck.

“Uhm?” He laughed, still waiting for your introduction… desperate for it, really.

“Y/n L/n.” Warmth spread from your hands to your body as you held his and squeezed lightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Osamu.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He continued to shake your hand, not breaking eye contact. “Really nice.”

You laugh at the awkwardness but it seems like both of you don’t mind. You just want to prolong this interaction of yours and without you knowing, he was doing the same.

“Thank you for waiting. Flight QR 1008 is now accepting passengers on board.”

Osamu’s world crashed as the announcement continued. That was his cue to leave. He didn’t want to let your hand go so he tightened his grip more.

“That’s our flight.” He whispered and smiled sadly at you.

You nodded as your heart shattered in pieces. “Have a safe flight, Osamu. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here.” He replied, slowly letting go of your hand. “You take care and try not to break vending machines next time.”

A laugh bubbled inside your chest as he stepped back in agonizing slowness. “I’ll try.”

“Bye, y/n.” He waved and walked back to his brother who you saw patted him on the back.

“Do you know the guy?” You were asked when you went back to the seats.

“No, I just met him.” How you wish you knew him more.

“Well, he’s such a hunk, isn’t he?” They teased but you just laughed and shrugged it off.

You’re going to suffer this heartache for a while.

On the other end, Osamu carried his backpack over his shoulder, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

“Hey.” Atsumu wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You alright?”

“It’s gonna take a while.” He grumbled.

Atsumu nodded in understanding and tightened his grip on his brother for support. “It’ll be fine, Samu.”

And before they could enter the boarding gate leading to the plane, a surge of courage ran through Osamu’s body. All he knew was that he just had to do it or regret it forever. It's worth the risk!

“Hey y/n!” He shouted, jogging his way to you when they neared the entrance doors.

You were stunned at the mere mention of your name from a baritone voice. The grip of two hands followed and they were heavy on your shoulders.

“Let’s meet again, yeah?” Osamu asked you, full of hope in his eyes. “Someday.”

You nodded your head and smiled. You love that idea. “Someday.”

With that, he waved his final good bye, bowed at your family, and left.

All was well but you never saw each other again.

---

Masterlist!!! Read more here hehehe

I actually enjoyed writing this so much hahaha I'm in love with the twin's tandem and their constant witty comebacks and bickering! I also miss going to airports and travelling and spotting eye candies outside... TAKE ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE PLEASE!

Anw, Hope you're all doing great. Stay safe!

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys and who’s sister they’d unknowingly date

**Keep in mind, it may happen that not all of these characters actually HAVE sisters, but let’s just ~pretend~ for entertainment purposes. I also put in names for the sisters, but feel free to put your name/an OC’s name and descriptions!!**

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou and Numai.

This has taken me...days.. I kid you not. THESE ARE REALLY LONG oOps

**I HAVE ADDED Numai Kazuma BECAUSE HE IS AN INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE MAN AND NEEDS MUCH MORE ATTENTION**

Akaashi Keiji: 

It was during the Tokyo training camp.

Akaashi was with Bokuto, Kuroo, Tsukishima, Hinata and Lev in the 3rd gym in the middle of another 3 on 3 match.

Despite his initial concerns they weren’t doing too bad. It helps that the other team was comprised of 3 middle blockers where no one adequately knew how to set, and their newbie (Hinata) was just a *little* bit better than Lev.

“TETSURO YOU JERK!!!” They all turned towards the door where a girl wearing a black t-shirt with red athletic shorts came running in, straight towards the middle blocker. Kuroo, who had a smirk across his face began to retreat. 

“Welp, looks like it’s time for me to go. See you guys later!”

“Oh no you don’t. Where did you put my phone?! It’s been missing for over 2 hours. 2 HOURS!”

Akaashi looked at the girl, noticing she was really pretty. She had beautiful brown eyes, and her black hair was styled into two French braids, which were bouncing as she desperately tried to attack the middle blocker.

“Try checking the club room, I saw him and Bokuto go in there earlier and come out snickering like idiots,” He heard an offended gasp from Kuroo and a ‘Hey!’ from Bokuto. “Thank you, at least someone here has some decency.” Akaashi nodded.

He didn’t really know what it was but he felt intrigued by the girl and he wanted to know more about her.

“I’ll come with you, I have an idea of where they might have put it.” The girl smiled and nodded her head. As they were making their way out of the gym he heard Kuroo say ‘simp’ while Bokuto asked ‘who is’, he stopped listening after that. He spends too much time with them as it is, it’s best to preserve the brain cells he can.

“I’m Azumi by the way, thank you for helping me, you didn’t have to do that.” Akaashi smiled, “I’m Akaashi, it’s not a big deal really You’re actually doing me a favor by getting me out of there.”

The girl, Azumi laughed. ‘She has a pretty laugh..’ Akaashi’s eyes slightly widened at his thoughts. He just met the girl! What’s wrong with him.

Pushing the thought aside he continue to chat and talk with the girl, learning she was also a second year and Nekoma’s manager.

They got to the club room and started looking for the device.

“Why did they take your phone?” Azumi sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “My best guess is for their own entertainment, Tetsuro is always doing things like that.” Akaashi nodded and tried his best not to appear as disappointed as he felt.

Of course she’s dating Kuroo, he’s smart, good looking popular. Figures...

“Sometimes I wonder why out of all the people on the planet I had to get him as a brother, y’know?” Akaashi’s head shot up at her words.

‘Brother?!!?’ He almost laughed at himself. Looking at the situation now it was obvious the two were siblings. He smiled, he still had a chance.

“Yeah I know the feeling. Sometimes I think, out of all the spikers why did I have to get Bokuto.” Azumi laughed again, “I don’t think Fukurodani would still be standing if you weren’t there to reign him in. Not to mention you’re a really good setter and vice-captain.” He felt the tips of his ears turn red as he tried not to stumble over his words.

The rest of the training camp went smoothly, the two became pretty solid friends and exchanged numbers making plans to meet soon.

He went home with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his heart.

And then he realized, he had a crush...

A crush on Kuroo’s little sister...

oops.

Washio Tatsuki: 

Washio had just gotten out of practice, a really good practice actually.

Everything went pretty smoothly, Bokuto had no tantrums, he nailed a really good spike and it was just a good day all around.

Because of this wonderful day, he figured he’d go to a café he had been wanting to try.

It was a small little coffee shop that had opened about a year ago but he hadn’t had the chance to go yet.

He walked in and was seated by the hostess at a small table by the window.

“Hi there! My name’s Yui and i’ll be your waitress today! Can I get you something to drink?” Washio looked up to see a girl, somewhere around 5′7, with white/silver hair that was tied up in a ponytail. She had the biggest smile he had ever seen, heck she was probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

He ordered his drink (focusing hard so he wouldn’t mess up in front of the pretty girl) and she gave him another bright smile.

“Coming right up!” She walked away going behind the counter to get the drink. Apparently the girls enthusiasm was contagious, because Washio swore he was feeling better than when he and walked in here. And he was feeling pretty good.

She also looked really familiar..but he couldn’t place just where she seemed familiar from.

Removing himself from his thoughts he turned his attention back to the girl, who was back with his drink.

I really hope this doesn’t sound weird or creepy, but do you go to Fukurodani?” Washio seemed a bit surprised by this, but he chalked it up tot he fact he was wearing his school uniform.

He nodded, “I do, do you go there too?” The girl excitedly nodded her yet. “Yup! I’d know that uniform anywhere! Oh! You’re on the volleyball team! Washio, right?” He nodded again. “Sorry if I seem random, my brother’s on the team too so i’ve seen a few games. You’re really good!”

Washio could feel his cheeks burning. No one had ever complimented him like this, well aside from his coach/teammates and family.

“T-thanks...it means a lot...” The girl smiled, a bit more sheepish this time.

“Of course...you’re actually my favorite to see play. My brother’s a spiker so I’m used to his antics but it’s nice to see talented blockers too. Plus, blockers are much cooler in my opinion. OH! I’m still at work, um, here...” The girl reached into her apron and gave him a little note.

“I hope we get to talk again soon, bye Washio!” Before he could even say goodbye the girl had pranced back to the kitchen.

Looking down at the note she gave him he could feel the blush on his cheeks but he didn’t care.

Because written on the note was the girls number, ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx, <3 call me~’ he smiled, he for sure was gonna call her later.

Before he could put the note away however he noticed the writing at the bottom.

...Now he knew why she looked so familiar.

Because signed at the bottom was, in adorably messy handwriting, ‘Yui Bokuto’.

Oh boy.

Konoha Akinori: 

Konoha had been chilling at home when his younger sister, who was a first year at Fukurodani had come home, announcing she had brought a friend home.

Standing up from his place on the couch he stopped in his tracks. In front of him was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

She had medium length dark brown hair and beautiful gray eyes, she was taller than most females, around 5′6 would be his guess, but she was still a few inches shorter than him.

Looking at her, she looked...familiar? He didn’t really know where she seemed familiar from, school maybe?

He shrugged it off, deciding it wasn’t something worth driving him crazy.

She introduced herself (his sister introduced her really, the girl was pretty shy) as Momo, he didn’t catch the last name though.

Anywho as the afternoon went on the girls remained down in the living room doing homework, which they needed help with. Luckily Konoha was a few years ahead and had already gone through that, so he helped them with their homework.

Seeing as it was the middle of the year and mid terms were coming up, the girls would ask him for help a lot.

Now, he may not have the best track record of helping others (...i.e Bokuto with spiking *cOuGh couGh). But this was his little sister! And it definitely wasn’t because he had a *little* crush on Momo...definitely not...Okay maybe.

But it’s not like she didn’t have just as bi of a crush on him so..

Anyways, one day Konoha’s little sister, Azumi had to leave early for a doctor’s appointment but Momo still needed help.

Knowing her brother was a ~gentlemen~ and Momo didn’t have a problem with it she left the two alone.

They were both...nervous. I mean who wouldn’t be! They were both unknowingly left alone with their crush.

Konoha decided he’d just start a conversation, and with that conversation the two found out they actually had a lot in common!

Konoha found out she had an older brother, who also went to Fukurodani! She didn’t mention a name though..Oh well.

The two spent the afternoon chatting and getting to know each other! And he may or may not have gotten her number...For studying purposes of course!

At about 4:47 there was a knock at the door. “Oh, that’s probably my older brother!” Konoha nodded, but walked over to check.

He opened the door...”wASHIO!?!  What are you doing here?” The middle blocker looked just as shocked. “I’m here to pick up my little sister...” Konoha just about felt the color drain out of his face.

. . .He had a crush on Washio Tatsuki’s little sister. . . 

Oh he was dead. 

Kita Shinsuke: 

It was during lunch one day when a 2nd year had approached him, Reina Omimi.

She was very pretty with long silky black hair, slanted gray eyes standing out to him but what caught his eye the most was the cute smile on her face.

She asked him to tutor her, since she was having trouble in English, he agreed asking her to come to class 3-7 after school since he didn’t have volleyball practice.

So, the two started meeting each other after school on the days he didn’t have volleyball practice and she was free from her club activities.

He truly thought it was a coincidence.

I mean, sure there were similarities beyond their names but couldn’t have been that rare right? Besides it’s not like everyone with the same last name was related.

Anyways, soon enough the two had gotten so close, they started dating!

They had yet to meet each others families, not on purpose of course! It just didn’t seem like the biggest priority on top of everything else going on.

One day before practice the boys were in the locker room changing from their school uniforms into their practice clothes.

All was fine until *Atsumu* just had to bring something up..

“Say, Kita, I saw you with a girl the other day, who was it?” 

Kita, being unbothered by the question answered, “My girlfriend” the whole locker room went quiet before erupting in a chorus of ‘wHaT?!’, ‘who is it’ and other unintelligible things.

“Her names Reina, she’s in class 2-6 so I doubt any of you second years know her.” That instantly shut up the rambunctious (minus Suna) second years (Suna and Osamu are 2-1, Ginjima and Atsumu are class 2-3...).

...But it did intrigue a certain 3rd year.

“Shinsuke...what’s her last name?” The captain in question turned to the third year middle blocker.

“It’s Omimi, wh-...oh.” Realization hit him like a truck.

The name, the hair, the eyes, the brains...how didn’t he see it?!?!

After Omimi assured Kita he was fine with him dating her, the team got on with practice. 

But let’s just say it was a fun conversation to be had between Kita and both Omimi’s...

Suna Rintaro: 

To be fair, NO ONE knows how this happened!

SUNA doesn’t even know how this happened!

Anyways, Suna had been going for a walk (his parents had kicked him out of the house for the day for being lazy) when he bumped into her, Megumi Kita.

He recognized the name when she introduced herself, but he didn’t put two and two together.

Kita had brought her to practice about a week or so ago and had introduced her but Suna had been asleep in the club room so..

Anyways, megumi had been on her way home from the store when she and Suna collided.

Seeing as it was his fault and he wasn’t allowed back in the house yet anyways he offered to help her bring the groceries to her house.

When they got there they were immediately greeted by Yumie Kita (Kita’s grandmother), who insisted Suna stay until he could go back home. (*and her granddaughter was single and he is a very handsome young man)

Not being able to turn down the sweet elderly woman he gratefully agreed. The afternoon went on smoothly.

A few hours after his exile his mom texted him telling him he could go back home.

Wanting the two to spend more time together Yumie insisted Megumi go back with Suna, and to meet her older brother on the way back since he was nearby.

The walk was filled with playful banter and getting to know each other.

So when they got to Suna’s house he obviously asked if she’d see him again and she happily agreed.

It wasn’t until he tried to sleep that night he remembered why that name had sounded so familiar.

Fast forward two months, Megumi and Suna were happily dating, er happily dating in secret. Why? Because the two knew Kita would not be happy to know someone (from his team nonetheless) was dating his little sister.

It was during practice one day that the fateful encounter had occurred...Suna had mysteriously disappeared, and Kita’s little sister who had come to watch had disappeared as well...The team went on a scavenger hunt for the sleepy middle blocker, figuring the sister’s absence was just a coincidence.

Until they found them snuggled up and asleep in the stairwell...

Suna did a few extra drills that practice...

And for 5 practices after that.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Okay...to be completely fair...he knew she was Oikawa’s little sister.

He met her at the beginning of his second year when she became the first year manager at Shiratorizawa.

Due to her sweet and kind personality, which he found greatly contrasted Oikawa’s he took a strong liking to the girl one she returned.

At first the two were just friends but as they spent more time together they developed feelings for each other.

Despite not going to the same school, and Natsuki staying in the dorms the Oikawa siblings remained close.

So Oikawa knew she went to Shiratorizawa...and that she was their manager...he just didn’t think she even TALKED to Ushijima.

Let alone that she was DATING him!

N E wAys Ushijima and Natsuki were out on a date, it was a Saturday and the two were out and about in town.

The two had just exited the café they were in when they heard a loud gasp.

Turning around the two were met with....basically all of Aoba Johsai.

And a broad range of reactions.

Oikawa looked DiSgUsTeD, iwaizumi looked conflicted, Yahaba showed a *hint* of surprise, Kindaichi looked scared and Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Kunimi were all laughing at their captain.

“wha-why-how-hUH!?!?! HOW DID THIS HAP-” He was promptly cut off by a firm slap to the back of his head. “Get over yourself loserkawa! You should’ve known you couldn’t control her forever!” 

Whining from the blow to the back of his head Oikawa turned to face the love birds, staring down Ushijima and proceeding to look his little sister in the eye.

After much mental deliberation (and another hit from Iwaizumi) he sighed and turned around, waving a dramatic hand in the air.

As he walked away he shouted, “Oh~ But don’t think you’re getting off easy now Ushiwaka,” He momentarily stopped to turn his head and give the two a *look. “We will be discussing this later.”

Yahaba Shigeru: 

 After a game ended he was headed towards the locker room when someone stopped him.

She introduced herself as Emi and said she wanted to say he played really well.

Yahaba, thinking she was really sweet and cute asked for her number which she gladly gave to him.

As he walked to the locker room, he couldn’t stop thinking about her beautiful long black hair that was perfectly curly. 

She really was quite pretty, one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen.

Fast forward a week, he had asked the girl on a date and she’d said yes!

So now, he was headed to an address she had given him to pick her up.

She was running a bit late so she told him to knock on the door and her older brother would let him in.

Making sure he looked his best he got out of his car and knocked on the front door.

He almost choked when none other than his teammate, Matsukawa opened the front door confused as to why Yahaba was there.

To stunned to answer coherently, Mattsun’s little sister skipped past her brother and gave Yahaba a hug, explaining to her brother this was the guy she had been talking about.

...Yahaba knew he was in for it later when he saw the look Matsukawa was giving him...it was the same look he had perfected as a middle blocker.

Y’know, the one he used to intimidate his opponents.

Nervously gulping Yahaba promised to have her home at a reasonable time and nervously left with his date.

The next practice was a dreaded date for the poor man.

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

Iwaizumi had been racing the halls of Aoba Johsai (he was late to practice...) when he had accidentally bumped into someone, sub sequentially knocking them to the ground.

Looking down he saw that he had bumped into a girl he had seen around, Kanna something or the other.

Apologizing he was quick to offer her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted.

He helped her gather her things and discovered she was on her way to deliver some papers to the guidance office.

Seeing as he was responsible for them being knocked to the floor he offered to help her take them there.

On their way to the office Iwaizumi made some small talk and got to know somethings about the girl.

He knew the name ‘Kyotani’ but he didn’t think anything of it especially since she was so nice and sweet!

So he figured it was a coincidence the two had the same name.

After that day the two would meet for study sessions, lunch, etc. Until they eventually started to go on dates.

So when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she had agreed.

On this specific day the two had plans to hang out after school, but because of a quick team meeting after practice Iwaizumi would be late to pick Kanna up after her club.

She assured him it was fine and that she’d just meet Iwaizumi at the gym.

“The HECK are you doin’ here?” Iwaizumi turned from where he was chatting with Hanamaki to see his girlfriend had just walked into the gym.

“Shut up Kentaro! Oh, Hajime! Sorry if I’m a bit early, club ended sooner than I had expected.”

Iwaizumi walked over and gave his girlfriend a short kiss on the lips, which wasn’t that weird since they’ve been dating for a few months now and had kissed several times.

“Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?” The whole gym (minus one player) cracked up at Makki’s joke, Iwaizumi rolling his eyes.

“Chill out everyone, this is my girlfriend, Kanna-” “GiRLfRiEnD!?!”

The team now directed their eyes towards Kyotani, who was a mix between fuming and shocked.

“Oh shut it Kentaro! You knew I had a boyfriend.” Kanna rolled her eyes at her overprotective younger brother. He sputtered a bit before he could formulate a response, “yEah, but I didn’t know it was him!”.

Before young Mad-dog exploded Yahaba came over and dragged him by the collar back to the court to ‘practice his spikes’ or whatever.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

He swears it was an accident! 

How was he supposed to know she was Aone’s little sister?!

Futakuchi had gone over one afternoon to work on some homework with Aone.

When Futakuchi knocked on the door, a beautiful kind looking girl opened it, asking him why he was here.

Introducing himself as a friend of Aone’s, the girl let him in, figuring he was  friend of her brothers.

You see, before Futakuchi had come over that afternoon, Aone had warned him his younger sister had some friends over.

So naturally he assumed the girl who answered the door was one of those friends since the girl (whose name he learned was Niko) and Aone looked absolutely nothing alike!

She was also quite bubbly and extroverted, easily keeping conversation with the girl.

Being the absolute charmer he is he begun lightly flirting with the girl.

And IN HIS DEFENSE!! She flirted back.

IT WAS ALSO AT THIS TIME THAT AONE HAD COME DOWNSTAIRS.

A look of concern came over his face as he saw Futakuchi flirting with his little sister. 

Quickly walking over to the two, he pushed Futakuchi away (by his face of course) before turning to his younger sister who was frantically asking why he’d do such a thing.

“You know that guy on the team I always talk about.” Niko looked at him confused, “You mean the scummy one with a terrible personality?” Aone nodded and pointed at Futakuchi, “He’s that guy.” 

Futakuchi just yelled out a “HEY!”, knowing his friend wasn’t exactly wrong.

Niko just laughed, “He’s not that bad! He seems nice to me! Plus you never mentioned he was so handsome.”

Making a face of disgust Aone just shook his head muttering ‘It’s your funeral’ before heading back to his room.

The two hit it off, and despite his initial protests Aone is very happy for both of them.

Daishou Suguru: 

It was after Mika dumped him, he had been incredibly distraught and had gone to a local park to let his feelings out.

Unfortunately, it had started raining and Daishou hadn’t exactly been in the right state of mind so he had forgotten to bring an umbrella.

Just as it had started to sprinkle he had gotten shielded from the rain,

Looking up he saw a really pretty girl with black hair and warm gray eyes looking at him with concern.

Convincing him it was dangerous to be out in this weather, the two made their way to the safety of a nearby café.

The two talked for hours and as it turns out the girl, Yuna as he had learned her name was, had been going through a similar situation.

Exchanging numbers the two continued to see each other and eventually started dating.

They had yet to meet each other’s families due to both of them being busy, so they decided to wait until after the Spring High Preliminary’s since Daishou would be free after them. (Due to scheduling conflicts Yuna was not able to go to the Match, but consoled her boyfriend after they lost)

Knocking on the door Yuna let him in and the two hung out in the living room until everyone had gotten there.

Once dinner had been cooked the family sat down at the table, all except one who Yuna had said was still at practice.

About 1/4 of the way through dinner they heard the front door open, in walking Yuna’s little brother.

“Oh! I should have asked earlier but you two know each other don’t you Yuuki?” 

Daishou mentally screamed realizing his girlfriend’s younger brother just so happened to be the rookie libero he had targeted during the preliminary’s.

Stilling in his tracks Shibayama nervously shook his head, saying he had only gone up against him at the preliminary’s and that they hadn’t really met.

Seeing as Shibayama is a stand up guy, he didn’t say anything to his family. So all was actually going well until Mr. Shibayama said Daishou had looked familiar....

Yuna had not gone to the Match...but Mr. Shibayama and Mrs. Shibayama had...and they had now recognized Daishou.

Oh boy.

Numai Kazuma:

It was when Numai had dislocated his thumb.

After the match he had gone to the nurses office, where a very pretty girl helped him.

She introduced herself as Kaia, she was helping out with first aid since she was enrolled in a medical program at Nohebi.

When Numai heard ‘Nohebi’ he talked about how he was the Ace for the Boys Volleyball team.

Kaia then asked him questions and before the two knew it they were engaged in a conversation while she helped him with his injury.

The two bonded over volleyball, since Numai learned her little brother played, and he played as a wing spiker!

During the duration of his stay, he built up the courage to ask her for her number, which she of course agreed to.

Seeing as she had done as much as she could do for a dislocated thumb, she released him, opting to walk him back to his team (definitely nOt just to spend more time with him h a h a).

When they got to the club room, where the team had just finished discussing the game.

Numai opened the door a smidge before he paused, not noticing the team eagerly waiting behind the closed door.

Turning back to Kaia he took  deep breath before nervously asking the girl out sometime, which she also happily agreed to.

Little did he realize the girls reply had interested someone behind the semi-closed door, he hadn’t really cared what was going on until he recognized that voice.

When the team decided their ace had had enough fun, the quickly opened the door and pulled him inside, the whole team piling on top of him.

All except one...

“Kaia...what are you doing here..?” everyone turned to look at a now awake Kuguri, who had been napping after taking over for the poor ace.

Kaia then entered the room and gave her little brother a hug, congratulating him for stepping up.

Noticing the team’s weird stares, the eldest of the two siblings turned around before properly introducing herself.

“I’m Kaia Kuguri, Naoyasu’s older sister.”

The underclassmen went silent, since they didn’t want to seem disrespectful towards their ace, while the third years all started howling with laughter, Sakishima and Daishou being the worst offenders.

Kaia just shook her head before leaving her dumbstruck brother and a red and stuttering Numai behind to deal with his cackling teammates.

[robinofinashiro]

sypnosis: sometimes, you just need to listen to your own heart. 

characters: narumiya mei x fem! reader

request status: OPENED / all fandoms I write for are pinned to the top of my page as well as my rules! feel free to request as you’d like! just please be respectful of my rules and if you have any questions, personally message me!

being the only manager to a team like Inashiro was hard. they had you up and running six am, right along with the team, and made you stay over time when playoffs or nationals were coming up and as much as you loved the team, the schedule sometimes killed you. 

the five thirty alarm rang through your room as you growled loudly. you were in no mood to wake up, especially after the night you had with Narumiya. 

the two of you were on and off again ‘friends with benefits’ as you liked to put it. you called him when you were feeling alone and wanted someone to come and comfort you and he did the same thing. the one thing that stopped you from actually dating him was you yourself. 

you never felt right dating Narumiya for various different reasons. you didn’t want to be seen as the girl who only joined the team to date the players nor did you want to ever be compared Narumiya in the first place. 

Inashiro carried Narumiya as if he was their god. he had girls flocking him left and right. Narumiya knew the status he carried around the school but whenever it was just the two of you, he had always told you that you were worth more than any of the girls that surrounded him. he would date you in a heartbeat but your brain was your own worst enemy and denied him every time he asked. 

you took out your manager uniform, deciding to just wear that for the day as Inashiro staff allowed any managers or sports students to wear uniforms on a day where a game was going to be played. the uniform was just Inashiro’s version of a tennis skirt and a red button colored shirt with white shoes and the teams sweater. 

after you brushed your teeth and grabbed a quick breakfast from your fridge, you ran out onto the field, getting the equipment they needed for their morning practice.  you knew that Shirakawa and possibly Carlos would be on the field but you knew the king would be late....as usual. 

“morning guys!” you said tiredly to the boys. Shirakawa gave you a head nod as a hello as Carlos actually decided to help you out with the equipment, “were you the reason why our pitcher snuck in last night?” Carlos asked, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly. 

you rolled your eyes, not bothering to answer. you grabbed the stack of papers that were reminders for the team about the upcoming Japan Series Sports Gala. it was a uppity dinner that Japan athletics threw every year to honor everyone who participated in their sports or helped manage them. 

“remind me to hand these out to everyone before the team begins practice or else I’ll forget,” you asked Carlos. he nodded, putting them off to the side as you, “you going?” Carlos asked, looking at the flyers again, “if someone asks me. i’m not about to go single and dateless,” you replied. 

“have Narumiya go with you,” Shirakawa said. you gave him the finger, not really in the mood to argue, “um, that’s kinda why I asked if you were with him last night,” Carlos murmured, scratching the back of his neck. you gave a look, as to indicate for him to continue, “he invited Amy to the gala this Saturday,” he confessed hesitantly. 

you let out a laugh of disbelief, not believing what you were hearing. you knew Narumiya could be an ass but not to this extent. just as you were about to let out a scream of annoyance, most of the team arrived to the field, Narumiya being dragged right alongside them. 

they sat on the patch of grass where they usually did as you picked up the notes you had to read off before they started their practice. with the boys having a scrimmage game in the afternoon, you knew you had no time to read anything off to them before hand. especially since they were Hokkaido again. 

“morning everyone! remember, the gala is this Saturday. it’s free entry for players and managers but anyone bringing dates must pay for their ticket coming in. secondly, the game against Hokkaido starts at five today. if you’re late, that is not my business to handle for you,” you read off the sheets, “now, practice runs until seven and we’re all expect to be in class at the beginning of the hour. if you’re late, that’s on you!” 

you closed the binder, sitting down on in your usual spot, finishing up last minute homework as they started practice. Carlos and Shirakawa looked at each other knowing what Carlos had said must’ve upset you since you were not as happy as you just were. 

“how’d you sleep last night?” Narumiya asked, giving you a smirk, “fine. now leave,” you threatened, not bothering to play his games. he gave you a surprised look, not expecting your attitude, “what’s wrong?” he asked a bit more seriously. 

you gave him a look, one that frightened him more than he was willing to admit. “Narumiya, I’m really not in the mood for you shit this morning so do us the favor of just practicing before I cause a scene and you wouldn’t want that to happen in front of Amy, would you?” you insinuated as you pointed to the black haired girl. 

Narumiya sighed, “so you heard?” you nodded as he tried to figure out an excuse for himself, “well, you kept denying me and I needed a date for the dinner on Saturday so I asked her! I don’t know what you’re so worked up for,” he said, instantly knowing what he said was going to bite him in the ass. 

“you know what Narumiya?” you said, trying not to seem angry, “there’s a reason why I never dated you. it’s out of respect for me, for you, for the team, and when you say things like you said to me last night, I took it to heart because I thought hey! maybe does genuinely like me but clearly I was wrong and maybe there are better people for you,” you said without skipping a beat, “but you know what? clearly Amy is better for you and maybe I did the right thing by not saying yes.” 

Carlos who had overheard the entire conversation was stunned. he had no idea you felt like this and Narumiya especially had no idea. he grabbed your wrist but you quickly shook it off, trying not to spend anymore time around him. you got up, giving him one more tired look before going onto the field to do your duties. 

+

the end of the day came faster than you had wanted. you were in no mood to see Narumiya but considering they were going to play Hokkaido, you knew they were going to need you more today than any other day in the week. 

you dropped your bag off in your room before running back to the field before you were late yourself. the only thing you had on you was your cell phone and wallet for dinner after the game. 

“ready boys?” you screamed, trying to hype up the team. they nodded excitedly, Carlos and Shirakawa surprised at your attitude, “lets go kick some Hokkaido ass!” you yelled, earning a yell back from them, “don’t focus on the past, focus on the now!”

before you could continue your small speech, Fukui walked in, “uh hey, ( your name), Renji from Hokkaido is actually looking for you in the dugout,” you gave him a bewildered look as everyone gave you a surprised expression, “do you know for what?” you asked. 

Fukui shook his head no. you quickly excused yourself but before you could, you grabbed Carlos by the wrist to come along with you. you had no idea what their catcher wanted so you grabbed Carlos for moral support. “what do you think he wants?” he asked rhetorically. you shrugged your shoulders, reaching the dugout to see Renji right alongside Hongou. 

“hey, you’re looking for me?” you asked Renji with a small smile playing on your face. he was holding flowers with a nervous expression on his face as Hongou basically kicked him in the back of the leg for not responding, “oh, uh, yeah! as you know, the Japan Series dinner is this weekend and while I know it’s impossible for us to date because of our schools and schedules, I knew you’d be attending this event on Saturday and was wondering if...you’d like to go as my date?” your mouth dropped as Carlos covered his mouth in surprise. 

this was was the farthest thing you were expecting to hear from Renji as he held the flowers out for you to hold, “oh, that’s surprising!” you replied, “but of course! thank you so much,” you said trying not to stutter. he laughed, before getting dragged by Hongou back to their dugout. 

Carlos gave you a look before the two of you started laughing from surprise. “wow, Renji?” he asked in disbelief, “yup, Renji,” you replied before the two of you started laughing again. 

the entire team, stunned from what Fukui had said earlier followed you and Carlos secretly to hear what the Hokkaido catcher wanted and were shocked to hear what he had said. Shirakawa instantly looked to Narumiya and wanted nothing more than to laugh when they all heard what he said. 

Narumiya was pissed. pissed didn’t even begin to explain what he was feeling. he knew he had no right to get upset for accepting his date invitation but with the conversation you both had in the morning and the fact that you were going out with a rival team did not help him at all. 

“serves you right,” Shirakawa murmured, “you’re lucky they don’t attend the same school or maybe Renji will get lucky Saturday night if you know what I mean.” 

Narumiya stared at his friend, not trying to believe what he was saying. he knew a relationship with him for you would be nearly impossible because your schedules but the fact that you were still going out with him bothered him to hell. 

the announcers called everyone to the field to shake hands with each other but Narumiya was beyond the point to be friendly with any of them. he saw the way you were giving a look to Renji every now and then and when it was your turn to shake his hand, instead of shaking it, he did a slight bow. 

“he must really like you, huh?” Narumiya whispered to you. you gave him a smirk, returning the one he gave you in the morning, “course! someone has too,” you replied before going to the bench as the ref blew the whistle. 

the entire game, you could sense Narumiya’s anger through his pitches. you knew Renji’s hand was going to hurt before the end of the game if he continued to throw that way. Shirakawa, who had gotten benched for getting a hit to the shoulder, laughed at Narumiya’s attitude. 

“you gonna keep up the act?” he asked, kicking his leg up to rest on the bench in front of him, “probably. I mean, all of you heard the conversation so to pursue a relationship with him would be useless in the long run but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, would it?” 

Shirakawa laughed at your pettiness but knew you had a right to make Narumiya suffer, even if it was just for a night. 

+

when Saturday night finally arrived, everyone going to the gala took the last train out of the city to get to the venue on time. one of the perks of all of this was that they were sending students back on busses once the gala ended and no one could sneak away secretly. 

you hadn’t seen Narumiya all day but you knew you were going to run into him at least once into the night. you had been texting Renji all day, making sure the two of you got the outfits to match so you wouldn’t look like a bunch of idiots if they took photos. 

the train stopped a few blocks from the venue but lucky for you, Renji and Hongou who had been begged to attend the gala by the team were waiting for you at the station. you waved to Renji who had another bouquet of flowers for you in his hand. 

“thank you,” you whispered to Renji as he nodded as a response. he swung his arm around your shoulders as the three of you walked to the venue in no rush. what you had no knowledge of was that Narumiya was right behind you. his heart sunk to his stomach as he watched the way you were talking and smiling with Renji. his heart screaming and wishing that was him in his place. 

Carlos looked at the longing stares Narumiya was giving you as he saw you taking pictures with Renji. it looked like you weren’t having any thoughts of Narumiya and while Carlos wanted to rub it in his face, he knew it was not his place to do any of that. he could tell how hurt he was feeling as Narumiya had even told two days prior that he had told Amy to no longer come along. 

he thought it was a brace move by Narumiya and looking at how hurt he was feeling now, he could tell Narumiya was genuinely hurt with you accepting Renji’s invitation. 

“listen,” Carlos said later into the night, “what you do is your business but what she said that day about her dating you is right. she would carry a lot of rumors on her back if she dates you. i’m not saying that if you explain whatever it is you’re feeling right now, she’d accept your feelings but she has a point in being hesitant on dating you. every girl at Inashiro kisses the ground you walk on and if they heart she’s dating you, that’s going to cause a lot of unnecessary drama on her end. I can’t tell you what to do but god damn is it tiring to see you this way.” 

Narumiya sighed knowing what Carlos was saying was true. every now and then, he would look to the table where you were sitting with Renji and Hongou and sigh in envy. of course, to you, you could feel Narumiya’s stares through the entire night. 

it wasn’t hared to tell that you were basically making Narumiya suffer. his face said it all and every time you went to the floor to slow dance with Renji, Narumiya’s face ran red with anger. a part of you wanted to drop the act to hear what Narumiya wanted to say but another part of you was going to wait till Renji left so you could talk to him. 

Renji was a sweetheart, you couldn’t deny him that. he constantly brought you the drinks you asked and danced when you asked but he knew that a relationship with you wouldn’t work and it would be useless to even try to make it work. maybe in the future he would have his chance with you but as of right now, you weren’t close enough for him to pursue anything. 

finally, once the night was drawing to a close, Renji and Hongou had to catch the earlier busses back to Hokkaido as there were hardly any busses for them in the first place. being that the venue was a bit closer to Inashiro, there was going to be more than a few busses for all of you to catch a ride in. 

“I enjoyed tonight,” you murmured to Renji, bringing him into a hug. he smiled, grabbing your hand softly, “me as well. I hope we can do this again in the future,” he replied, giving it a kiss. 

you smiled, giving him another bus before hearing Hongou screaming at him to get on the bus, “you have my number, don’t forget that,” you playfully said before heading back inside. you saw Narumiya at the end of the street, looking at you sadly. 

Narumiya walked up to you slowly and saw the way your attitude chance as he approached you, “what?” you asked with no emotion in his voice. Narumiya, taking all his chance grabbed your hand and basically dragged you to kiss him. you were stunned into the kiss and while you wanted to pull away, you let it happen. 

after Narumiya let you go, he stared at you longingly. 

“I know what I did was horrible. I’m not good with feelings, especially when it comes to romance and I thought that if I took Amy as a date, it would help me get over you. I should have asked why you felt that way and why you kept denying me and I understand why I look like the asshole here but I can’t.  I can’t see you dating anyone else or anyone that isn’t me. call me selfish, call me ignorant, I don’t care but please, you need to understand that even though we’re third years, you’re it for me. you’re the only one who truly understands me.” 

you sighed, not knowing how to respond to his confession but you eventually fell back into reality and sighed again, “Narumiya, this shit isn’t a joke. my feelings aren’t a game or something to play with. you know better than anyone how I feel about this entire situation,” you tried to say as Narumiya instantly cut you off, “I know, Carlos reminded me today and I will try my hardest to get rid of anything you’re scared of but please,” he begged silently, “I want a chance with you!” 

you gave Narumiya a look before bringing him into a kiss, “I’m scared, scared as hell actually. whatever happens, I guess we’ll deal with it whenever we get there but if you do anything to fuck this up, you’ll be out of my life faster than you can throw a ball,” you finally said. 

Narumiya’s face instantly lit up with happiness as he smiled. he brought you in for another kiss but this one was a lot more slower and dare you might say, a bit more sexual.

“come on, lets get back inside before Carlos or the busses leave us,” you joked as Narumiya grabbed your hand and held it tightly. he gave it a kiss, right where Renji had put his, “and that’s what Renji gets for kissing what’s mine,” he murmured before the two of you ran to where Carlos was to get onto the last bus. 

“are you both?” he asked slowly. you nodded yes as he sighed in relief, “finally! holy shit. it took you long enough! please never make any of us suffer that shit again!” Carlos exclaimed, texting the entire team the news that Narumiya was no longer being a pain in the ass, “but seriously, if he wasn’t being such a whiny idiot, you should have kept that up for a bit longer,” Carlos joked. 

you rolled your eyes playfully as Narumiya growled before trying to hit Carlos which he dodged easily. 

[themadauthorshatter]

... I’ve already made a draft of this and deleted it, but I’m going back in. 

This is an AU of what would happen if Mareven was healthy and the end game. 

I apologize in advance for any and all MareCal shippers, including myself. 

SO! What happens? 

Simple. 

Everything remains mostly the same in the story except we get more of a doubtful and uneasy Maven as the story progresses, as in he hugs Mare a little longer and is genuinely perturbed when he hears about the ‘bomb’ that went off and looks terrified of Cal when he returns and orders Farley to be tortured. He’s also more hesitant to listen to his mother. 

He still offers Cal’s legion to the Guard, but is a little sadder to say it. 

THEN WE GET TO THE PLOT TWIST OF THE STORY!!!!!!!!!

Maven plays along, but, as he stands by his mother’s side, he mouths, “sorry” to Mare and goes for a gun on Arven’s belt, shooting him in the leg and warning him not to try silencing him or he’ll aim for something more vital. 

It catches EVERYONE off guard, especially Elara, who’s about to risk having Cal or Tibe out of her whispers to get Maven back in line. 

Instead, Elara asks what he’s doing and why, as she thought this was what he’d always wanted. 

“It’s what you want, Mother. Not me. None of this is right. You’re already the Queen. What else do you want!?” 

Elara bares her teeth. “Are you saying you want to live your days with a Red rat?” 

Maven pulls Mare to her feet and pushes her behind him, keeping the gun at them, nodding. “I’m saying I'm not following your plans or listening to anything you have to say. I'll die before I let you in my head again!” 

Well, wish granted because Mare senses the cameras turning back on and Elara lets Tibe and Cal go.

Only to force Maven to shoot her and Tibe, though Maven actually misses him.

Mare breaks free and they make a run for it, Elara shouting that they are traitors and to arrest them, though she does force Tibe to play the part of concerned husband.

Cal isn't in the room because he races after Maven and Mare.

Speaking of which, Maven leads Mare through the castle and finds a hall that goes toward a servant's passage, so they can escape.

Too bad there are guards that round the corner and take aim at them, not only for staging a coup de ta, but also for attempted regicide.

Cal's there too, aiming a handgun at them and telling them to submit to arrest.

They do and are sent to the Silent Stone cells.

Mare is confused and livid and doesn't want to talk to Maven, who keeps pacing and clutching his head and telling someone to be quiet. 

Mare mentally tells him to maybe practice what he’s preaching, but wonders what the hell all that was when they were captured. 

Maven sighs and sits down, back-to-back with Mare, and asks her how good she is at picking locks. 

Her hands are for picking pockets, not locks. 

Maven lets out a semi-bitter chuckle and regards that he shouldn’t have bothered asking because of course she’s better at pockets. he then admits that he’d been so scared of the cells as a boy, his young mind tricking him into thinking that there were monsters or prisoners in the cells. 

Speaking of the cells, Mare breaks her silence and asks why it’s so hard for her to use her powers, even asking if Arven is close by listening to them. 

Maven admits it would be useful to do that, but no. The cells are made of Silent Stone, which is basically Arven being there without him really being there. 

Although she already knows what’s going to happen, Mare wonders what will happen to them, in the Bowl of Bones. 

Maven lists off a firing squad, some Silvers, maybe some animals, and the fact that no matter what, the show will not be short; the people want blood and Tibe is going to give them blood, even if it’s his own son’s. 

“Not if he can’t find you.” 

Both Mare and Maven stand as Cal walks in, dressed formally and holding a set of keys to the cells. 

Maven asks what this is and what Cal’s doing as he opens both Maven’s and Mare’s cells. 

Cal explains that he’s already had to give Julian a head start and hopes that Maven and mare can do the same, can vanish into thin air before their execution. 

Mare asks why they should accept the help, seeing as Cal’s the one who arrested them, but Cal counters by asking who’s idea it was to get them arrested, glaring daggers at Maven. 

Maven has his own question: How does Cal know they won’t be seen? 

Cal looks away and admits that he hopes there aren’t any Red servants that know how to fix the security system.

Maven and Mare exchange a glance and start walking, but Cal gets between them, shackles them, and grabs their arms, telling them to play along and make it convincing so no one questions anything. 

They both do their best reluctant prisoners act up until they pass by Sonya, who inquires as to where Cal’s taking them. 

Cal states he’s just taking them to get some cardio before their execution, seeing as how they’ll need every ounce of strength they’ll need. 

Sonya spits that they shouldn’t and should actually fight with nooses around their necks so they’re easier to grab and throw around, but drops it anyway, eying Cal before she leaves. 

Time’s almost up, so it’s a good thing Maven leads Cal to a servant passage, where they stop and get free, Maven getting his flame-maker bracelets back. 

Maven opens the passage, but Cal stops him and Mare, telling them to be careful now, because if they manage to escape, they’ll be fugitives and will get hunted like deer for treason, Maven for attempted regicide, from what narrative that now exists. 

They nod and thank him for the help. 

Before Mare can follow Maven, Cal grabs her arm again, which makes Mare turn to him. 

The two stare at each other, realizing what’s happening and what’s going to happen. 

The royals will figure out that Cal helped them escape and will probably have him killed for letting two traitors run free. 

Cal is the one who helped her in the first place by getting her the job at the Summer Palace, and now he’s saving her life again, this time also saving his brother’s and risking his own. 

Maven shouts for Mare to keep it moving and Mare pulls out of Cal’s grip, backs away, and races after Maven, Cal watching her leave before closing the passage. 

His face contorts with sorrow, regret, anger, and pain and he clenches a fist as he hears a sentinel shout that Mare and Maven are missing. 

Cal shouts, “They’re this way!” and races down the hallway and away from the bookshelf, trying to make it look like they outran him. 

In the passage, Maven leads Mare by the hand as they soon find themselves underground and under the streets, overhearing an announcement to keep an eye out for the two of them because both are armed and dangerous, Mare especially. 

Maven groans at his father’s words and muses that at least they’re out. 

Mare isn’t as relieved and asks what he was planning with his mother. 

Maven stops in his steps and states that she already knows. 

Mare does know, she just wants to hear Maven say it. 

Maven bites his tongue and clenches his fist at his side, not turning to face Mare as he asks what will happen if he doesn’t tell her. 

She’ll make him tell her, make him talk or she’ll shock him until he dies. 

Maven  tightens his fist but then drops it, admitting he and Elara planned on killing Tibe and using Mare and Cal as scapegoats, sending them to the Bowl of Bones, and having them executed to wrap up the story and solidify Maven as the new King, with no Scarlet Guard and no loose ends to ensure the story of Mare being a Red would slip out. 

Mare demands he define ‘loose ends.’ 

Lady Blonos. The servant girls who dressed Mare as a Silver. Lucas. Julian. Sara. Mare’s family. Kilorn. Cal. Mare herself. All the Reds on the list Julian gave her. 

Mare gasps at that last one, sliding down a wall as Maven explains in increasing panic and with his eyes growing teary that he was along with the ride and all for getting the throne the way his mother planned, but then he began to feel genuine feelings for Mare and her plight and no matter how much Elara tried to take those feelings away, they always came back. She did the same with Tibe, making Maven lose his love for him, and had semi-success with Cal, but didn’t fully remove his love for his brother. It also changed when they killed Blonos and the servant girls, and when Tristan died. It opened Maven’s eyes and made him realize that he was going to kill someone he didn’t want to die. he’d already lost Thomas and it was his own fault, but if he was the reason he lost Mare, too, he’d lose his mind. 

Maven stops his rambling and joins Mare against the wall, admitting that he knows he deserves whatever comes next, but whatever does happen, he just asks that mare know that he is sorry for all of this, for putting her in such danger that now they’re on the run and risk execution if they’re caught. 

Mare turns to him and asks if Elara has the list, if he told her about the Newbloods. 

Maven shakes his head; the raid was going to happen in a few hour hours, so there wouldn’t have been enough time for Elara to look through his mind, write down all the names, and the find them in the blood base, so they have a good head start there, too. 

After a minute of collecting themselves, and a glare from Mare, the two stand up and keep walking until they reach a fork in the path and wonder which is safer.

The only answer they get is a gun pushed against the back of Maven's head and a certain blaonde telling him to go right or she's painting the tunnel Silver.

Mare turns and sees Kilorn and Farley, with the addition of a certain Barrow we all still mourn, don't lie.

"Shade!"

Mare and Shade reunite, though Maven voices confusion as he thought Shade had been executed.

Shade explains that they tried and failed, making an example by teleporting in front of and behind them, saying with pride that no one's faster than him.

Mare is a mix of happy and sad at the news, but Farley brings them back and reminds them they need to keep going or they'll get arrested and killed.

Maven also gets put back in shackles, but acts as a good sport and doesn't burn them off.

They continue throught the tunnel until they reach a train, climb aboard, and get to riding, merrily on their way to nowhere in particular.

Back in White Fire, Elara slaps Cal HARD in the face and demands to know what he was thinking and where Maven and Mare are.

Tibe gets between them, but Cal admits that he didn't fully know what he was thinking, just that he couldn't let his brother be forced to fight when he's still in training. It would be a bloodbath.

Elara asks if that's the same reason why he also let Mare go, or if there's something he's not telling them.

Tibe also wants to know. He understands letting Maven go, but why a Red rat like Mare? If the people see her lightning powers and Red blood, there will be Hell to pay.

Cal's silent, but Elara solves that with a quick look into his mind, seeing all the moments of Cal and Mare being close and friendly with each other.

Elara asks Cal if he's more interested in dirt than diamonds and Tibe gets the picture instantly, upon seeing Cal's reaction.

Change of plan: Cal is getting his legion back in action, and an additional two hundred soldiers to locate and either capture or kill Mare and Maven. No more catch and releases or else it's Cal who fights in the arena and he'll have nothing but his wits to defend himself.

Cal pales at this and gasps that they can't kill him, because then Norta has no heir.

Tibe only glares at him and tells him not to fail before leaving to let Cal get his army ready.

Cal watches his father leave and is broken by the fact that he legitimately screwed up and that his father, as King, needs Maven, his own son, executed with Mare, someone who never should have had her powers to begin with.

Elara glares at Cal for a moment longer and also walks out of the room, leaving Cal on his own.

[dented-nado]

Well since you specifically asked: Twiddler

“Yah I like Eddie but he’s straight // BAD LUCK, HUH?”

“No he’s not”

“NO IM NOT??”

Shenanigans

I’m dying right now, the ol’ Harv(ey) stubbornly thinks that Edward fucking Nygma is s  t r a  I g ht love it.  Still one of my fave convos we’ve ever had.

==================

Eddie’s POV

 =====================

It had been about a year since he had joined the sort of halfway home that Bruce Wayne had opened up for Ex-Rogues. However Eddie was somewhat convinced the billionaire he now realized had been Batman the whole time (pfft, he totally could have figured that out… he just… hadn’t…) rather liked having he, Harley, and Harv(ey) as a sort of odd band of roommates. And well… a literal mansion wasn’t a bad place to stay in by any stretch of the imagination.

He certainly had expected (and been quietly and not so quietly jealous) that because Harv(ey) and Bruce had apparently been close as far back as when they were children, Wayne would certainly be ecstatic to have Two-Face hanging around. He still was a little bit taken a back that well… anyone would want him around.

But he really was trying to reform. Maybe part of it was because the routine had gotten boring and he’d started finding more quiet and less destructive games and puzzles more entertaining these days. Besides, he realized he could have more fun with such things when he wasn’t being hauled back to Arkham because he’d taken things a little too far so often.

That being said, he had a new focus, a new goal.

And that was the previously mentioned Harv(ey) Dent. The giant, the absolute unit that towered over him.

Two souls for the price of one. Harvey was quietly intelligent (though sometimes a little bit delightfully oblivious), kind, and soft. Then Harv, he was bold, had a wonderfully fun fashion sense, and had a gravelly voice that admittedly caused Eddie’s mind to pull a blank at times.

They were a man that could have half their face burned to a crisp with acid and still be the only man that had been in Arkham (in Edward’s opinion) that could really get it.

He still remembered the first time “two-face” had been escorted into Arkham, the sight of them had knocked the wind right out of him, completely stopped his plotting for his next attempt to outsmart Batman.

Sure, perhaps he had heard and sort of seen images of Harvey Dent, the famous distract attorney that had been nicknamed Gotham’s “white knight” on the tiny, crappy TV they were occasionally allowed to watch when they were let out of their cells. But that never did him justice.

Seeing him here? Up close?

What a man. A handsome man, carved by angels and blessed by the devil

Now if only he could get Harv(ey) Dent to notice him.

Since that day he’d tried time and time again under the hope that maybe just maybe… this giant of a man would consider a relationship of sorts.

He tried to impress them with his vast intellect, sitting close to him and going off about any fact or subject he happened to know. He then tried to drill Harvey about his knowledge as a lawyer (which he thought also might just be interesting to know). They were certainly a good listener… and Harvey warmed up to talking about legal jargon and the pains of law school with Eddie eventually.

He was able to talk to Harv about their mutual love of fun patterns and bright colors and agreed that anyone who dissed it just didn’t understand fashion. He also realized soon that Harv loved to talk when he was acknowledged, and Eddie was more than happy to encourage him to and lightly swoon at that voice.

However, they were still only on a ‘good pals’ basis.

Which maybe Eddie could have accepted, except he caught Harvey staring at him at times, smiling slightly whenever Eddie would talk about what interested him. And Harv, he had gotten Harv to laugh a few times.

There was something there, he knew it, but for some reason he couldn’t puzzle out, Dent wasn’t acting on it.

It continued to this day. Harley had suggested to Edward he simply outright tell Harv(ey) Dent he was interested in them. But that wasn’t fun or interesting, and certainly not as romantic as Eddie would like.

So, after years of frustration now, he decided he’d go to the one person who had known Harv(ey) Dent their whole life for advice.

 ============

Bruce’s POV

============

“So, that’s my dilemma.”  Edward finished, pushing up his glasses in a very matter-of-fact way.

Bruce sighed. The only person who had ever rivaled his own stubbornness and… stupidity when it came to others having an romantic interest in them, was in fact Harv(ey) Dent. This would no doubt be difficult.

He wasn’t even sure how he managed to get into a relationship with Clark and Diana, so he wasn’t sure how much of a help he’d be trying to get Harv(ey) and Eddie to pair up.

“I’m decently sure he’s interested in you.” He replied.

“I’m quite sure too, however nothing I do seems to get them to do anything.” Eddie expressed, looking completely exasperated.

“hrrn....” Bruce grumbled thoughtfully. “What have you tried so far?”

“Well… I’ve given them gifts, flowers seemed like a sure-fire method- yet he seemed to somehow take them as a platonic gift.”

Bruce stared at Eddie for a long moment. “Who gives flowers platonically?”

Eddie shrugged.

Bruce sighed. “Dammit Harvey… Harv…” He mumbled under his breath. “I could try talking to them, get some better idea of what’s going on their head, could be Harvey and Harv keep arguing on how they want to respond.” He suggested.

Eddie nodded thoughtfully. “That may be the case, that is a possibility I had not considered… thank you for your assistance batma….. ah… Bruce…” He corrected with a slight grin.

Bruce half smiled back.

Batman was on the case.

====

“So… Harv…. Harvey…” Bruce began wandering over to where they were sitting.

They were seemingly switching between drinking a hot coffee and a Frappuccino.

Harvey had complained more than once that because of their disagreements Harv ended up making them consume way too much sugar. Too much caffeine in this case it seemed.

Their eyes flicked over to him.

“Hi Bruce.”

“What’s up Pretty Boy?”

Bruce sat down across from them. “Eddie seems to be interested in you.”

Never hurt to be blunt with a lawyer.

Harvey snorted. “That’d be nice… he is really cute but…”

“I’m sure Eddie is straight, just our luck, right?”

Bruce had never been so shocked in all his life.

Straight?

Eddie…

Straight?! E d  d I  e.

Str a I ght, Edward Nygma E Nygam s t ra ight

The two concepts being put together caused a complete error in Bruce’s mind that was slowly beginning to fry.

Who could possibly conclude that Edward was s t r aight?

The riddler…. The riddler who for a while greeted Batman like he was lowkey interested in a literal love-hate relationship

Edward

Str a I ght.

“Are you… fucking kidding me?” Bruce ended up stammering before he even realized it. “He’s not… at all!”

Harvey blinked at him a few times in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Bruce gaped at them. They couldn’t be serious.

“Harvey… I… Harv… he… he’s not exactly subtle about it. In fact he’s very open, very much out and proud, flaming even. I’m sure he’d agree.”

Harvey looked at Bruce through squinted eyes. “Are you sure Bruce?”

“Sure, maybe he’s a bit more flashy than your average guy, but that doesn’t mean gay.” Harv added with a shrug.

“He calls you handsome at least 3 times a day.” Bruce said still staring at Harv(ey) like they were absolutely insane.

“Lots of people do.”

“Have you ever seen him even flirt with any women??” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“No but… well there’s always been more men in Arkham, and when do you even have time for that?”

Bruce was somewhere in-between wanting to laugh at them and slap them.

“He’s given you flowers.”

“Pretty sure he’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly…” Bruce wheezed.

This conversation was taking years off his life at this point. He shook his head and texted Edward.

“Get in here (the living room downstairs) It’s important”

Edward slid in and sat peppily down on the couch with Bruce within a few minutes, causing Harv(ey) to look between Eddie and Bruce in confusion.

“You rang Mr. Wayne~?” Eddie asked with a cheeky grin as he leaned his head against his hand.

“You know what these men just said to me?” Bruce began folding his hands together.

“Bruce nooo…” Harvey pleaded.

“No no, I think he should know.” Bruce insisted.

Eddie raised his eyebrows comically high. “Well don’t keep me waiting, what’s the tea?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “They said… they’re sure you’re straight.”

Eddie stared at Bruce for a minute, eyes widening.

“Me?” He asked completely baffled.

Bruce nodded.

Eddie threw back his head and laughed until his face turned red and he had trouble breathing.

Harv(ey) looked on stiffly, feeling as if they had made a mistake somewhere as the dawning realization slapped them in the face.

 ============

Harv(ey)’s POV

===================

It was bad enough they had put themselves in denial so far they had missed out starting something with the small bean-pole riddle-man much earlier…

But now because they had convinced themselves Eddie was straight and therefore could have no interest in them… Eddie and Bruce were refusing to let them live it down.

And Bruce seemed to have gotten literally everyone in on the joke. Anyone Bruce hadn’t told between his partners and his massive family, Eddie had told.

Harley had begun kissing Ivy in front of them while they both traded off saying “no homo tho” between kisses until Harv(ey) groaned and left the room in a huff, leaving them both laughing maniacally.

Eddie had begun dramatically entering a room with a flourish announcing “Ladies and Gentlemen, Guys, Gals, and Non-binary pals, the straightest man alive has arrived, you may all start the party.”

Even when they first slept together, Edward had started quietly laughing and mumbling about “how straight, and very much not gay at all this occurrence was.”

Bruce hadn’t been able to look at them in weeks without breaking out into a full on belly laugh at his expense, mumbling something along the lines of “The Riddler, st r a I ght, good lord...”

On one hand they were happy Bruce was laughing more but god dammit…

They felt a bit dumb about it to say the least.

“How did we ever think Eddie was straight?” Harvey thought to himself.

“I don’t fucking know. I really… really… don’t.”                                                                                          

Well… maybe giving everyone a little levity while still being able to date a cute red-head that seemed to know the strangest facts about almost everything that they could enjoy listening to him babble about for hours happily…. Was all worth it. Even if they were embarrassed by their comically stupid brand of denile.

[rosemarypasta]

➤ pairing : oikawa tooru x female reader (karasuno manager)

➤ chapter warnings : slowburn (?)

➤ summary : You just recently joined the Karasuno boy’s volleyball team as their first year manager. As you grow closer to your teammates, you also unexpectedly grow closer to one of their biggest rivals, Oikawa Tooru

➤ chapter word count: 2762

-ˏˋ chapter two ˊˎ-

SATURDAY

8:00 AM

You woke up the next day super early to get ready for the practice match. Eight hours ago before collapsing due to an energy shortage, you made sure to set up an alarm for eight AM so you could have a full hour to get ready before going to the morning practice. You showered, brushed your teeth and ate some breakfast first thing in the morning. As soon as you finished your last bite of toast, you said goodbye to your parents and set off to school with thirty minutes to spare. You knew you could've used the remaining thirty minutes to chill for a second or do your homework that you didn't get to do yesterday but you figured that you'd start to freak out and question why you were doing all this in the first place if you didn't go immediately.

Physically, you felt tired and worn out from dodging stray volleyballs yesterday but you were oddly pumped and energized to go to practice. As you began to question your sudden surge of enthusiasm, your brain quickly reminded you of a reason why.

Oikawa Toru was a reason why.

You felt like a thirteen year old having a crush on the popular boy all over again. You've only seen him once and you find it ridiculous how much he has already been occupying your mind. He didn't even acknowledge you last night. He couldn't at least pretend to be interested in who you were and ask for your name. "Whatever." You mumbled to yourself as you tried to push the image of the Seijoh student away. But there is nothing wrong with finding a stranger hot anyway.

As you entered school grounds and walked towards the gym, you could already hear the squeaking sounds the volleyball shoes made. You looked over to see the time on your cell phone and confirmed with yourself that you were fifteen minutes early. So how are there already somebody practicing? You peaked through the open door and caught a glimpse of the red head sprinting to the opposite side of the court in a blink of an eye. HInata suddenly jumps vertically up but falls shortly, a volleyball joining beside him a second later.

"You jumped too fast!" A familiar voice yelled. There was somebody else in there this early too aside from Hinata. "Well maybe you just tossed too slow." Hinata pouted as he crossed his arms and legs like a toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor.

You giggled to yourself as you found the sight of a high schooler to be ridiculous.

"Ah! Y/N, good morning!" The redhead greeted you as he noticed you creeping from the door. "Hey." Kageyama greeted you briefly before picking up another ball from the cart you and Shimizu organized after yesterday's practice. Judging from the amount of balls already scattered throughout the gym floor, you could tell they have started way earlier than you previously thought.

The rest of the team quickly started to pile in the gym one by one. BY the time coach Ukai showed up, the whole team had already started their stretches. They seemed more fired up than yesterday.

You weren't the type to keep up with sports but you do know that your prefecture was quite well known for some of their volleyball players. You've heard of powerhouse schools like Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai but you've never heard of Karasuno's outstanding volleyball team. So if this is the performance and morale of a team full of nobodies, you wonder how insane the training is in the powerhouse schools.

The practice went by smoothly, no yelling or fights and most importantly, no injuries. They took frequent breaks to drink and rest in between different types of training. Despite it being a Saturday morning, you didn't feel worn out like you did during yesterday's practice. In reality, it was pretty entertaining watching them play a sport they are all so passionate about. Well, most of them seemed passionate. Tsukishima, the first year, seemed to be pretty good but anyone could tell that he was doing the bare minimum compared to Nishinoya and Hinata who were pretty much begging the coach to keep playing during breaks.

And before you knew it, twelve o'clock came around and the black and orange uniformed boys met their rivals for the day. Around the same amount of players in white and turquoise walked in the gym but as much as you scanned the crowd, you didn't find the familiar face you hoped to see. You sank into the bench you were sitting on and sighed. Was he not a regular? Then why was he so confident in beating Kageyama when he isn't on the team to begin with?

You contemplated whether you should ask Kageyama about him but you pushed that possibility away as you watched him do his final set of stretches to prepare for the match. You also thought it would be embarrassing if he knew you had an interest towards someone that was so ridiculously rude towards him. Though while debating with yourself, you caught Kageyama looking through the room and looking concerned for a while but shook it off swiftly before serving in the first set of the day. You knew Aoba Johsai has a pretty big volleyball team and they only brought twenty people to Karasuno so maybe Oikawa really wasn't a regular.

Two sets went by and both Karasuno and Aoba Johsai each had a win which means the last set they played would determine the first win of the day. With a blow of a whistle, Asahi was already throwing the ball in the air to serve but got distracted by the sudden entrance of a brunette in a white jacket.

"Sorry for being late everyone, it took me a while to get the ok from the doctor." He graciously announced as he leaned on the door with a white supporter on his right knee. "So you can finally play?" An Aoba Johsai player with spiky dark hair asked Oikawa to which he replied with a sparkly smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"You guys lost the first set to them huh?" He casually spoke with a bright smile on his face that seemed sinister with the context and tone of the words he spoke. "Leave the rest to your captain." He smirked. He pulled the jacket off his back to reveal his white uniform with the number one printed brilliantly across his chest.

As if the whole ordeal was pre-planned, the timid looking boy that made Aoba Johsai lose their set point the last set moved back and joined the rest of the white uniformed team on the bench with a simple hand gesture from the coach. Oikawa swiftly moved to the back of the court. His legs parted and arms wide open, ready to accept the ball his black uniformed opponent was about to serve.

As soon as the ball left Asahi's grasp, Aoba Johsai was quick to react, even quicker than the last two sets they played. Each move the players made on court was filled with confidence and no hesitation was shown, as if a single person like OIkawa multiplied their skills by three just by setting foot on the polished wooden floors riddled with sweat. The brunette captain was quick to react when his name was called. He ran up to the front of the net, tossed the ball towards his teammate and allowed him to spike with all his might.

Watching the whole ordeal was mesmerizing despite being on, what seems like now, the underdog's team. As the ball left the spiker's palm, it zoomed in the air. You held your breath as you saw it in slow motion touch the area beyond the white line.

It was out.

You sighed in relief and sank back into the bench beside coach Ukai and Shimizu. You felt relieved that no one on the Karasuno team touched the ball since it looked like it was strong enough to break an arm. You turned to see them cheer as usual every time they win a point but the celebrations seemed to be duller than usual. They seemed tense, not letting their guard down as they briefly high fived each other.

"It's the grand king's turn to serve now." You overheard Hinata mutter to himself as he wiped sweat droplets from his forehead. The grand king? Who's the grand king?

You turned to the opposite side of the court and saw the pretty brunette spinning the ball on his long and slender finger. The Aoba Johsai captain threw the ball in the air lightly then proceeded to hit it to the point where the side where the ball touched his palm grew flat, parallel to his hand. You thought the last ball they hit was powerful but this time, you were sure that this one was strong enough to put a hole in the middle of the gymnasium.

The whole practice match went on for another hour and a half. The two teams played six sets in total. Two went to Karasuno while the other four went to the fashionably late captain's team. You felt bad that your team lost, despite how much practice they put even before the official practice hours had begun but you assumed that losing four sets in a six set game to a powerhouse school wasn't so bad.

Right?

Though, you thought the fired up ones like Nishinoya and Hinata would be bummed after losing a practice match but they seemed fine. They were mopping the floors as usual and were mingling with some of Aoba Johsai members who were still cooling down before journeying back to their school.

For your part of the clean up, you carried a crate of empty water bottles outside to the back of the gym to fill them with water. Carrying twenty empty bottles and filling them to the brim was no problem, but carrying them full back in was one. You took a deep breath in before focusing all your strength you had onto your fingertips but before you could even attempt to lift them, they seemed to float up on their own.

You realized the pair of hands on top of yours.

You startled yourself and dripped the heavy plastic crate to the ground as you jumped away in shock. "Sorry for scaring you, I just saw you struggled with it and wanted to help." The captain of the opposing team spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah! No, it's fine. Thank you for your concern and help." You frantically replied back. You could feel your cheeks heat up in shame. You stepped away from the crate as he crouched down and picked it up like it was nothing.

"I'm Oikawa Toru, though I suppose Tobio-chan filled you in with that information last night?" He introduced himself as he began to carry the bottles in the gym. Your heart skipped a beat pathetically. He remembered you from last night. You let out a small sigh, disappointed at how easy it was for Oikawa to impress you this much by doing the bare minimum.

Though, despite your conflicting inner thoughts, butterflies unwillingly started to fill your stomach. "So are you Tobio's classmate? You two seemed pretty close yesterday. Was he walking you home?" OIkawa set the crate down carefully on the floor, speaking casually as if you were already acquaintances for a long time. "Yes he did but it was nothing special- Shimizu-senpai told me to have someone walk me home since it was already dark outside." Your face paced answer seemed desperate compared to how chill he was acting. "And we aren't classmates, I'm just in the same year as him." You didn't know why you were so eager to answer each and every question he asked. You knew he was just making small talk but you answered as if they were the final words he would ever say to you.

You could tell he was the popular type. The way he acted and played screamed like the jock pride and joy of Seijoh. His perfectly styled hair, charismatic smile and toner body had the ability to make anyone, whether they liked men or not, drool.

"OIkawa get your ass in the bus, we're leaving." The dark haired boy in the number four uniformed yelled from the opposite side of the room. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now, Y/N-chan." He winked before running off to join his vice-captain who hit his head in response to Oikawa patting his hair once he caught up to his friend. You giggled at the sight of them bickering childishly as two of your seniors slid behind you.

"Don't be fooled by that pretty boy's charms, Y/N." Tanaka warmed, his face contorted in intimidation in an attempt to scare the rival's captain, which went unnoticed as he was already out of the gym, busy talking with his friend. "You two! Cut it out, don't spread rumours about Oikawa." Daichi sighed as he hit the two boys with odd hairstyles on the head. "They aren't rumours if they're true, Daichi-san!" Nishinoya managed to say as he winced in pain, rubbing the top of his head in sync with his buzzcut haired partner. "So what's the deal with Oikawa-san?" You replied in curiosity without thinking further. Tanaka and Nishinoya snickered at your response, satisfied with the reaction they sparked and straightened their posture, before clearing their throats. "Well aside from the fact that he nearly beat up poor Kageyama when he was only in his first year of junior high just because he wanted advice on volleyball, I'd say he's a decent guy." Tanaka informed in a low voice, looking around to make sure Daichi wasn't around to scold him.

Oikawa? Beating up Kageyama? He may look like someone from the popular side but he didn't seem the type to bully someone, let alone an underclassmen who was two year younger than him. You wanted to ask more from the two troublemakers but given the look on your face and how the three of you were bundled up like a group of moms gossiping about their neighbour's scandals, Daichi walked up to the second years with a sinister grin on his face but they were two steps ahead and dispersed on their own, pretending to be busy with cleaning up to avoid their captain.

After another hour of running practice outside, Daichi and Sugawara treated the whole team to some popsicles to cheer them up from the loss of the practice match and the team was shortly dismissed. You and Kageyama started to walk home together unintentionally and made small talk throughout the journey. You knew he was a nice person but you did pick up that he more or less lacked some social and communication skills. As the two of you talked about normal stuff, his answers sounded awkward and short but you were quick to realize that that was not the case when it comes to talking about volleyball so you switched the topic of the conversation to the practice match. You let him ramble on about his serves, Hinata's failed attempts at a block, and other various things you barely even noticed in the match. It was a nice way to familiarize with volleyball terms so you didn't mind. Besides,, he seemed pumped to talk about volleyball despite having just played it a while ago.

You were tempted to bring up oIkawa but you decided not to as you began to enter your neighbourhood. Although what Tanaka and Nishinoya said explained why Oikawa behaved superior and confident towards Kageyama the other day, it seemed more like harmless banter rather than petty bullying. Besides, a full three years have gone by since the supposed bullying so you were sure he has changed.

Right?

4:00 PM

"What's with that face, you look constipated." Iwaizumi abruptly spoke, sitting up on his bed as he pushed away a manga he was reading to narrow his eyes at his childhood friend.

Oikawa rested his head on Iwaizumi's bed and smirked, "That Karasuno girl seems like she's close with Tobio-chan." He sneered, shortly feeling a sharp pain on his forehead.

"Don't get any childish ideas, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi spoke sternly in his signature monotone voice as he retreated his fingers after flicking his captain on the forehead.

next:  -ˏˋ chapter three ˊˎ-

previous:  -ˏˋ chapter one ˊˎ-

[themysteryofwriting]

No One Noticed...

Very important Note! I changed a lot of season 8 for plot reasons. 1. The whole ending arc, how they defeated Honerva, doesn't happen here 2. Instead there's some big final battle 3. After said battle, Honerva, losing all of her supporters, goes into hiding 4. Allura probably died in the final battle 5. The Paladins get magic rights How long had they been trapped here?  They weren’t even sure anymore? Weeks? Months? Years?  They had thought their fellow paladins would have noticed, would have rescued them, and yet, there had been no sign of them anywhere.  

Sometimes they had wished they hadn’t gone on that mission.  After all, that mission is where they were replaced with their clone.  Apparently, the Galra already had them ready, they couldn’t help but wonder if they had one ready for each of them and they had just been the one unlucky enough to be replaced.

They had tried to get out before, with no real luck.  And if their fellow paladins hadn’t found them by now...well they had to hope someone would find them.  Otherwise, they might be stuck here forever.

As they started zoning back into the world around them, they thought they heard footsteps...well more like footsteps out of the normal guard schedule.

They could feel a sliver of hope start to rise but squashed it, those footsteps probably didn’t mean anything after all. ~~

It was still strange looking through all these old Galra bases.  Of course, most bases had peacefully turned over once the whole announcement had gone through.

This was not one of them, unfortunately.  For the first time in a while, Keith had to call the other Paladins in to come help. Just like old times.

Except..for some reason, Lance didn’t want to come.  No matter how much they tried, none of them could convince them to come with him.  He kept stating that he’d prefer to stay at home.

That should have been Keith’s first clue.

But at the moment he was more focused on the base.  They probably didn’t need all of Voltron, so Lance could stay home if he wanted.

Maybe his trouble with Red was throwing him off, even though it had happened a while ago.  Maybe he should talk it over again with Lance once they got back from the mission.

It seemed like a normal mission at first, fighting Galra, keeping some of the distracted with the Lions while the others snuck in.

At least it was normal until they found that room.

Unlike the other rooms on the ship, it seemed more secluded, almost like it was barely touched.  Or maybe it was like that because not everyone knew about it.

There was no way Keith could have been prepared for what he found in that room. 

Actually, it would be more accurate to say cell.  As trapped in the room was Lance.  Keith was confused.  Hadn’t they left Lance at home?  What would he be doing here?

Lance glanced up at him from where he had been positioned. “I’d rather not do this today,” he muttered, “Not in the mood to deal with you.”

Keith was still slightly in shock but brought his hand up to his communicator.  “Guys I found something I think you’re all going to want to see.”

“We’re a little busy here Keith,” Pidge called, sounding slightly irritated as they worked on something, “Can’t this wait?”

“Not really,” Keith replied, “Look this is going to sound crazy but…”

“But what,” Shiro asked, noticing how Keith had started trailing off.

“I found Lance.  I know he stayed home but I swear he’s in front of me right now.”

“We’ll meet you there once we have everything else wrapped up,” Shiro said.

Keith gave a quick acknowledgment before glancing over to Lance.  Keith still wasn’t completely sure how they had captured Lance.  He had just been fine before they left so how did they even capture him and beat them here?

Keith must have gotten caught up in his thoughts because the next thing he heard was the gasp was Hunk upon seeing Lance.

Shiro started moving to get Lance out and Keith was about to move to help when he noticed something.  

Pidge had just frozen, they were staring at Lance, seeming to realize something.

“Pidge is everything okay,” Hunk asked noticing how they had frozen. 

“You mean you haven’t realized,” Pidge asked as they turned to Hunk, the shock in their voice evident.  

“Realized what,” Keith asked.

“No matter how you look at it, ance has been here a long time.  This means there’s one of two options here. Either the Galra have some sort of time manipulation technology, which we would have discovered by now, or the Lance we’ve thought was Lance wasn’t him and we didn’t even fucking notice.”

Keith froze, glancing back at Lance as Pidge’s words began circling in his head.  Were they right?  Did none of them notice that they were dealing with a clone rather than the real Lance?

After a long silence, Shiro walked up, Lance slung over his shoulder.  “Let’s just get home, we can deal with all of this once we get back to Earth, including dealing with the other ‘Lance’ back home.”

After some discussion, they decided Lance would ride with Shiro.

The ride back to Earth was the quietest they’d ever had.  Keith wasn’t sure what the others were thinking of but he kept wondering why he hadn’t noticed, hoping that for once in their life, Pidge had been wrong.  

It seemed like forever before they got back, all of them quickly rushing to the medbay.

After Lance was stabilized the rest of the Paladins went out to talk.  “We need to keep the Lances separate,” Pidge said.

“But why-,” Hunk started to ask.

“Because at the moment we don’t have a way to prove which Lance is the real one.  We know one of them isn’t real but until we can find a method to figure out how we can not let them meet.”

“Pidge is right,” Shiro said speaking up, “We don’t know what the clone, whichever they are, will do if they find the real Lance.  Hunk, you know Lance’s family right?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah we hang out a lot, I’ve swapped a few recipes with his mom.”

“Ask them if they noticed any changes since Lance came back, anything they’ve noticed that might help us will work.”

Hunk nodded, heading off to go ask.

Pidge was quiet, clearly thinking for a bit before speaking up. “I think I can make something to detect the level of magic someone has.  It might take a bit but it could tell the difference between clone Lance and normal Lance.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hunk hummed, “I can try to help you if you need any help after I’m done talking to Lance’s family.”

Keith glanced around, not sure what he could do to help.  He glanced back towards the room thinking.  

Shiro must have noticed Keith’s glance as he spoke up again. “Keith and I can keep an eye on the Lances, make sure they don’t interact or anything like that.”

Shiro glanced over to Keith. “It might be better if I keep an eye on the one who’s been here the whole time.”

Keith nodded.  “You’re probably right about that.”  Keith wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep his thoughts in line to watch the one that wasn’t currently in a cryopod. 

Shiro nodded a bit. “So we’ll meet back here later today?”

They all agreed before going their separate ways.  Keith watched the others go before walking back in the medbay and sitting in front of the pod.

With no one to talk to besides those on duty, Keith’s thoughts were allowed to drift as he kept an eye on Lance.

What if Pidge was right and this was the real Lance?  How long had he been captured?  Had the same trick really worked all of them twice? Once with Shiro and now with Lance?  Were they really….that bad friends?

The next few days seemed to pass in a bit of a blur for Keith.  Hunk met up with everyone after talking to Lance’s family.

Apparently while the adults hadn’t noticed anything at first, the kids had noticed differences. While before everything, Lance played with the kids a lot, whether it was joining in on their games or helping them get what they needed for the games...within reason of course, after he got back he just...stopped.  

The adults had just brushed it off as he was still adjusting back from being in space, he also spent a lot of time alone whenever he had so free time so they thought that it was a part of that.

The second Hunk said that everyone grew concerned.  Lance had always talked about how close he was to his family.  He wouldn’t just distance himself for no reason.

But first….they had to wait for Pidge to finish their device.  

They worked a little faster with Hunk’s help, but that didn’t make the wait any less stressful, especially considering Lance still hadn’t woken up.  

Fortunately, both Pidge and Hunk were fast workers, especially once they worked together.  They called Keith down to their lab on the third day to test it out.

Being half-Galra had some advantages, one of those being he had a higher magic level then most humans.  

Then again, all of the paladins had higher magic levels from actually being in pure quintessence.  Keith remembered the magic everyone used in that final battle, though it didn’t seem anyone had been able to use it since.

The second he stepped into the lab, Pidge pulled him into a seat. “Good, you’re here,” they said, “Hunk and I have already tested it on ourselves, but we needed a test with a different level of magic before calling itcomplete. And Shiro’s keeping an eye on ‘Lance’ so you’re the best option.”

“What do you need me to do,” Keith asked, knowing Pidge probably wouldn’t calm until they were sure that this worked.

“Just sit there and let us test the device out,” they said, waiting until Keith sat down before rushing to grab the device.  

It only took a few seconds for them to rush back over to the device.  “Here this end is a bit like a thermometer, don’t worry we’ve already cleaned it.”

Keith nodded and put in his mouth, the second he did that, both Pidge and Hunk rushed to the other half of the device to see what it said.

After about a minute there was a beep and he could see Pidge grinning.

“So it worked?”

“Yep! I probably need to do some last minute adjustments before we use it on the clone, I’ll probably send a message for everyone to come down so he doesn’t get too suspicious,” Pidge answered.

Keith nodded. “I guess I’ll see you then?”

Pidge barely nodded, already deep into their work.  Keith left them to it, knowing he’d probably get shooed out soon if they didn’t anyways.

It was only a few more hours before Pidge sent a message to all of them in the group chat, the one that included the possible clone, telling the rest of the paladins (and the potential clone) to meet them in their lab.

Keith took one last glance at Lance before heading there.  He couldn’t help but hold onto that last shred of hope that they were wrong as he headed to Pidge’s lab. 

Keith was a bit surprised to notice he was the last one there.  He glanced over at ‘Lance’.  Shiro had probably brought him here.

Keith turned towards the front when Pidge cleared their throat.  “So I've been working on a device to test magic recently.  Mainly to see how it affected different species and all that, and I figured we’d be a good test run, most of us quite literally being in pure magic.”

Most everyone nodded, but Keith thought that he noticed a second of panic on ‘Lance’s’ face.  When he looked again though, it was gone.

Pidge had him and Shiro go first.  Two different levels to make sure the device couldn’t be overloaded, or at least that was their explanation.  After Shiro went, Pidge turned to ‘Lance’.

“Do you think you can go next Lance?  It would probably be good to get an example with the least amount out of the group and Hunk and i already tested earlier.”

“Well you shouldn’t need a test if you already have a few examples,” ‘Lance’ said, trying to backpedal.

“More data is better in situations like this,” Pidge shot back.

Seeing no other way out, ‘Lance’ stepped up to be tested, everyone’s eyes shooting to the screen.

Their worst fears were realized as the saw ‘Lance’  light up as made of magic.

‘Lance’ chuckled a bit.  “You know, I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out.  It didn’t take nearly this long for you to figure Kuron out.  I thought I was screwed once you figured him out I would have been discovered any day,” the clone smirked a bit here, “And yet no one noticed. Makes you wonder how much you really cared about him.”

You’d think after spending time with the paladins, the clone would have known better not to taunt them when the whole team was against them, as it only took another second before 4 paladins had their weapons at their neck.

As they took care of the clone, Keith came to a conclusion.  They were going to have tell Lance what happened when he woke up.

And none of them were looking forward to that.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 58: Advice From a Salesman to a Believer

He stayed in the little room with August Wayne Booth longer than he should have. Partly because he had nowhere to go. Partly because watching him struggle to get out of his jacket and gloves and get comfortable was entertaining. But he could only sit there and watch him struggle for so long before he had to get up and have mercy on him. Once he'd helped him out of his jacket, he could finally see the extent of the damage. He'd only seen one leg, but he had a feeling both of them were wooden. His belly and torso, also wooden. His left arm up through his shoulder was wooden, and after he got his jacket off, he watched as his right shoulder was slowly enveloped in wood as well. He'd bet it was only a matter of time until his chest, neck, and head followed. And once that happened…

His cell phone rang just after the sun went down and he wasn't surprised when he saw Mark's name on it, but he was nervous. If he was calling over what he thought it was about, it could potentially be life-changing. So he flipped his phone open, managed to mutter an undignified "yeah," and listened.

"Just thought you should know, an ambulance was called to Mary Margaret's apartment not long ago, and they just came rushing out."

"Is it there for Emma?" he asked.

"No…for the boy." He felt himself let out a breath as he glanced over at Booth, who was watching him with interested eyes. He had the feeling that he knew, even though he had yet to announce anything. "The ambulance gathered a crowd, I asked around a bit, they're saying the kid choked on something, but…when they wheeled him by, it doesn't look like a choking to me. Kid was out cold. We're on the way to the hospital now."

He nodded, but if they were on the way to the hospital, then what was done was done. He gave this game he was playing twenty-four hours, at max, to play out the way he wanted it to. If it did, then neither Mark nor Dove would be of any use. If it didn't…then there was certainly nothing more he could do.

"Take the rest of the day off, Mr. Dove. They might be there a while." He only heard a relieved sigh before he snapped the phone closed and glanced back over at Booth, still staring at him with knowing and expecting eyes. "Henry took the curse, and they're on the way to the hospital now where nothing the hospital can do will be able to help him."

"Should I be relieved?" he asked with sarcasm.

The truth? No, he shouldn't. When he'd made the call, Booth had still had use over his right hand. That had gone away in just the time that he'd arrived, barely an hour ago. He doubted that August would make it through the night. So, no…he shouldn't be relieved because he very much so doubted that there was anything to be done for him except wait for the Curse to be broken and hope that the Blue Fairy could turn him human again or that magic coming to Storybrooke would at least bring a puppet back to life. That was a big hope. But he also didn't need to know that, not at a time like this when there was a little boy in the hospital who had just risked everything, his very life, to make sure Emma broke the Curse. He'd never felt the weight of this Curse on his shoulders like he did now.

"There's nothing happy about any of this," he stated indifferently. "I have to get to the shop. There are things I need to do," he stated truthfully. He had stayed far longer than he wanted to already. Now, he needed to be in a place where Emma could find him when, not if, she needed him.

"What about me?" the puppet asked.

"Well, your part is not yet done, Mr. Booth," he sighed. "You see…if Emma starts to believe, first she's going to look toward her allies."

"Mary Margaret?"

"You. Mary Margaret…her mother is a friend, but still Cursed. Emma will seek out answers; she'll try to understand what she believes. You were the one insisting she believe, so she'll come to you first."

"And you want me to what…send her to you?"

If he was still alive and talking…

"That thought had crossed my mind," he smiled. Emma had no idea that he wasn't cursed. In desperation, she might come to him, and he could use that opportunity to reveal himself, but a finger in his direction could work just as well. And when she came to see him, he'd be ready. "We'll get her there, Mr. Booth. One way or another, we'll get her there."

And he would, that was why the moment he returned to his shop, he prepared. He knew his client, and like a good salesman, he wanted to have exactly the tool she was going to need out and ready when she appeared. Fragile as his client was, the last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone or turn his back on her allowing her to lose her nerve and run away.

The "tool" that Emma would need, in her situation, was contained inside a long, thin case. It was dusty. What was inside had really only been touched on one occasion since they had been brought over from the Enchanted Forest. Its original owner had stolen it after being stored in an umbrella stand. After that, he'd had the case fashioned for it and took it off the shelves, keeping it out of sight, waiting for the right person to come in and take it back.

When he heard the bell to his shop chime, his heart jumped at the thought that the right person had finally come for it.

And then he bit back a stutter as he saw that it wasn't exactly what he'd been planning.

Emma had come to see him. But she wasn't alone. She was with Regina.

They entered the shop together, not in a whirlwind or in anger. Instead, they both looked exhausted. That was good. Exhaustion did him little good, but desperation and determination-those could both easily force exhaustion to the side and allow what needed to be done to get done, but…

Together!

It was shocking. He'd always known he needed Regina and Emma to face off to be against one another, but he hadn't expected they might come together! But…

The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was a good thing. Henry was sick, in the hospital. Regina knew the reason why. She'd used magic to put him there. Which meant Regina was doing exactly what he'd thought the Savior might do…she was looking to her allies, namely him. Regina was here to ask for help with magic, to save Henry. And if Emma was with her, instead of at the hospital demanding they fix him with medicine, then that had to mean…she knew.

Better yet. She believed.

Believing meant that she was ready to fetch his potion. He could make that happen. No, it wasn't exactly how he'd pictured it or figured, and yes, Regina might pose a problem, but he could overpower her easily and what would be left in its wake was the same. Magic in Storybrooke. A broken Curse. Emma could do this. And once she did, he could bring magic back. He was closer than he'd ever been; he wasn't about to let a simple thing like shock throw him off.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is that the look of a believer?" he questioned, coming to stand behind the case he'd set out for Emma on his glass countertop.

"We need your help," Emma cried, standing before it perfectly.

"Indeed, you do. It seems quite the tragic ailment has befallen our young friend." He glanced at Regina. "I told you, magic comes with a price."

"Henry shouldn't have to pay it," Regina whispered with something like sadness in her voice.

"No, you should, but alas, we are where we are."

"Can you help us?" Emma interrupted.

"Of course," he stated, turning back to her and offering her his best salesman smile. He'd never felt more like Mr. Gold and Rumpelstiltskin at one time. Considering that was his future if everything worked out, he rather enjoyed that knowledge. "True love, Miss Swan…the only magic powerful enough to transcend realms and break any curse. Luckily for you, I happen to have bottled some."

"You did?" Regina questioned with a mix of astonishment and hopefulness.

"Oh, yes," he breathed, answering Regina without looking at her. He willed himself to stay focused on Emma. "From strands of your parents' hair, I made the most powerful potion in all the realm. So powerful that when I created the Dark Curse, I placed a single drop on the parchment. Just a little safety valve."

It was a half-truth, but to explain the lie to either of them right now would only bring more questions, and he was working on bringing this all to a close by sun up. Besides, it took a few seconds for it to register, but eventually, Emma Swan's eyes widened in understanding, and she gasped, ending any comments he might have made.

"That's why I'm the Savior. That's why I can break the curse."

"Now you're getting it."

"I don't care about breaking the curse. All I care about is saving Henry."

"Which is why it's your lucky day. I didn't use all the potion. I saved some…for a rainy day."

"Well, it's storming like a bitch. Where is it?" she demanded with absolute seriousness in her eyes that had him growing more and more excited by the second. Her parents always had looks like that before they saved the day. So too would she…if she could scramble together their bravery.

"Where it is, isn't the problem. Getting it is what should worry you."

"Enough riddles. What do we do?" Regina asked, raising her voice.

"You do nothing. It has to be Miss Swan." The vision he'd had so long ago only concerned Emma, not Regina. If she tried, she might get in the way, and he hadn't come this far for Regina to ruin it all.

"He's my son. It should be me."

"All due respect, but it's her son. And it has to be her," he stressed, making something up last minute. He knew how Regina worked. If she thought there was reasoning behind it, then she wouldn't risk Henry. "She's the product of the magic. She must be the one to find it."

"I can do it," Emma nodded.

"Don't trust him!" Regina insisted.

"What choice do we have?" the Savior argued.

"That's right, dearie. What choice do you have?" he argued right along with her.

"Where is this magic?" Emma interrupted again, refereeing their war of words as if she were their parent instead of Henry's.

"Tell me, Your Majesty," he pondered, looking over at Regina, a smile growing on his face, "is our friend still in the basement?"

Her face shifted and morphed. For a brief second, the anger she had toward him melted into confusion as she considered what he'd just said, then twisted into shock and horror as she realized exactly what he was talking about, all before coming back to anger, an appropriate expression, once again.

"Oh, you twisted little imp!" she gaped. "You hid it with her?!"

"Oh, no, no. Not with her," he corrected. "In her. I knew you couldn't resist bringing her over."

"Who is 'her'?" Emma asked, ignoring Regina and staring at him for answers. That was the result of a lack of trust between the two women. It was worth noting for later if this turned out the way that he thought it would.

"Someone you should be prepared for," he answered, wiping a cloth over the case that had been settled between them before tossing it aside and placing his hand on it, preparing them for the Grand Reveal. "Where you're going, you're going to need this."

And then he opened it. Emma looked inside the case. To her credit, she didn't gasp or ogle it. Instead, she reacted like he would expect a skeptic to react. She stared down at it with a look that suggested he had to be joking, but he wasn't.

"What is that?" she finally asked with a growl, as if she knew but didn't want her suspicion to be true.

Emma might have been a woman of this world, but a dragon was a monster of theirs. She wouldn't beat the creature with a gun. She needed a weapon from their world, which had already proved itself against a fearsome beast of this kind. She needed a sword. And since she didn't have any "family heirlooms," well…it was a good thing he had a few for her.

"Your father's sword…"

He expected Emma Swan to argue, to scoff at the sword or put up some kind of fight at the suggestion she use a sword. She was a believer, but she was still a new believer. She would cling to what she knew before surrendering to something uncertain. But he knew better than anyone that the love a parent had for a child, especially one who was hurt or hurting, could be stronger than anything in this or any other world. Perhaps that was what made her utter a strained "fine."

"What do I have to do?"

"Retrieve an egg," he answered.

"An egg?"

"Not a real one. The potion is protected by a golden egg of my own fashioning. Your father hid it inside the dragon shortly before waking your mother from the same Curse that currently holds your son captive. A Curse created by the same woman, if I might add." His gaze slid to Regina. "Same apple too, I imagine. Yes, your Majesty?"

Regina let out a short, irritated sigh that confirmed his suspicion. "Get the golden egg, and we get the potion, is that all?" she questioned. "Are we done here? Any other helpful tips?"

He smiled. "None that I can think of at the moment, but one never knows."

"Thanks," Regina drawled sarcastically. When she turned to go, Emma caught the action and made a step to go after her before glancing back at the sword. With Regina on her way out, she unceremoniously reached into the case, removed sword and sheath in one fluid motion, then united the two as she hollered Regina's name and followed her out the door.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Prologue - pt 5

content warnings none explicit for this chapter. mentions/references to death and murder

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

final part of the Prologue AT LAST  onto the actual game after this 👀

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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As Fahjoth was pushed through the prison’s doors, the first thing to hit him was the scent. The air inside was thick and musty and riddled with damp, almost seeming to clog up his airways and pollute his lungs. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust; coming in from outside, where the skies had been a pale, blank grey, the dingy prison corridors were almost completely dark in comparison. A few small torches hung in brackets, casting weak orange lights upon the rough grey stone walls. Perhaps it was purposely designed to instill a sense of hopelessness in those who were unfortunate enough to be imprisoned here. Or perhaps that was solely as a result of Fahjoth’s current mood. 

First, he and Ribyna were escorted to be processed, giving up their names and details for the records. Fahjoth was relieved that Ribyna seemed to be able to speak for herself now that they were away from the docks, but he was still worried over his twin’s mental state. Then, they were stripped of all their belongings, including the very clothes off their backs, to be replaced with the dirty, ragged sack cloths of their prison shirts and trousers. Neither of them were to be afforded any dignity in the process, but even that wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst, by far, was facing the unknown, in the form of whatever lay ahead of them both. 

Fahjoth wasn’t worried about himself, not really. There was no evidence of him being involved in any particular crime; the worst he could be charged with was public nuisance and affray, if the guards decided that he was involved in the confrontation that had taken place on the docks. The blood still staining his knuckles may have provided enough proof for that to be the case. 

But the biggest cause of his anxiety was Ribyna. Not only had she killed someone, that someone was the Captain of the Imperial Watch himself, and she had done so in full view of all the other guards. There was no denying that she would be facing charges for murder at the very least. 

But to murder such an important figure…

Perhaps they would make allowances, Fahjoth let himself hope as the prison guards now took them down towards the cells. Maybe they would charge her with manslaughter, seeing as the Captain’s death had been an accident. On the other hand, she was still also facing attempted murder for her desperate struggle to stab the staff-wielding cultist. 

Overall, the outlook for his sibling was bleak. Ribyna herself said nothing as they were taken to their respective cells, which were situated directly next to each other. In a way, that was some small comfort. But on the other hand, the fact that they couldn’t see each other left Fahjoth feeling even more distressed. 

The cell that Fahjoth was unceremoniously shoved into was itself no more welcoming than the rest of the prison. As the iron bars slammed shut behind him with a deafening clang, and a mechanical click announced the key turning in the lock, he stood and examined his surroundings. A single candle stood mounted on the wall in a rusty iron bracket, not doing much for the overall light level but valiantly flickering nonetheless. The walls were comprised of the same dull grey stonework, splashed occasionally with patches of moss and streaks of black discolouration where the damp was creeping in. A small wooden table and chair, crooked and riddled with rot, sat in the corner with clay cups and plates sitting haphazardly on top, but apart from that, there was nothing. A narrow opening — not even a window — sat high up in the stone wall, blocked with thick iron bars like those of the cell gate. The hole let no sunlight in, but allowed cold draughts to permeate into the cell, bringing with them a fine drizzle of rain. 

Fahjoth shivered, rubbing his bare arms while fighting the urge to throw up. Everything had gone so wrong, so quickly, and a small part of him wanted to blame himself. The rest of him, however...

He shook these thoughts out of his mind; playing the blame game was of no help to anybody now. Instead, he padded back over to the cell gate, reaching his arm out towards the cell on his right, where he knew they had imprisoned Ribyna. 

“Ribyna?” Fahjoth called, keeping his voice hushed so as to not alert the guards. On receiving no response, he frowned and tried again. 

“Ribyna!”

To his relief, there was a small reply this time. 

“Yeah?”

Thank the gods. “How are you holding up?”

“How d’you think?”

Right, that was a bit of a stupid question, he reasoned. Nonetheless, it hurt to hear his sibling sounding so broken and defeated. “Look, we’ll... we’ll figure it out,” he said softly. With the trembling of his voice Fahjoth wasn’t sure that he sounded convincing enough, but he had to try. “We’ll sort this.”

Ribyna didn’t reply. Fahjoth kept his arm stretched towards her cell, in the hope that she would reach out to him — though he wasn’t sure who needed the comfort more at this point. He knew Ribyna was suffering, and wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around his twin, to tell her that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. They’d never been forcibly kept apart before and it was nothing short of devastating. As well as the uncertainty surrounding their fates, they were also left to process indescribable grief. 

They had lost Merrick. 

The youngest member of their group and one of the kindest people Fahjoth had ever known. It was a terrible injustice. Fahjoth had been very fond of him himself, but Merrick had been Ribyna’s best friend. Though his own eyes brimmed with tears, Fahjoth couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was feeling. 

He had shunted all thoughts of Cassius out of his mind. On the rare occasion that his boyfriend — now very much an ex — wormed his way to the forefront of his mind, it incited both anger and hurt in equal measure in Fahjoth’s heart. After everything they had been through, how could Cassius have just abandoned him like that? Had he ever even cared for Fahjoth at all? 

Again, he pushed it to the back of his mind, trying not to think about it. What was most important now was what ultimately awaited him and his sibling, and how they were going to deal with it. 

Such an opportunity arose when a guard came patrolling past. The clanking of his iron armour paused as he stopped by Fahjoth’s cell, jerking his head towards him with a frown. 

“Arms in, prisoner.”

“Sorry,” Fahjoth apologised on instinct, drawing his hand back through the bars. “Listen, um... I was wondering if you know what’s going to happen to me and my sibling? They didn’t really... tell us anything...”

Strangely, the guard didn’t decline. But perhaps it wasn’t that shocking; many on the Waterfront joked that Fahjoth possessed somewhat of a silver tongue. 

“Vetharys, isn’t it? Sure, I heard the head jailor talking. You’ll probably get a few years at most.”

“And Ribyna?” Fahjoth pressed, his stomach twisting with anxiety. 

“You mean Little Mr Murder next door?” The guard lowered his voice, though Fahjoth was well aware that Ribyna would probably still be able to hear. “Killing the Watch Captain is no petty crime, you know. If he’s found to be guilty, he’ll probably be looking at the death penalty.” 

Fahjoth froze as his worst fears were all but confirmed. As the guard received no response he simply carried on his way, leaving Fahjoth to reel with horror alone in his cell. 

He had already lost more than he could have ever possibly imagined. 

Was he going to lose Ribyna as well?

Leaning back against the bars of his cell door, Fahjoth desperately reached towards Ribyna’s cell once more with his arm violently shaking. 

“Ribyna?!”

His heart was hammering in his chest and his eyes burned afresh, hoping and praying that Ribyna would respond. Being separated had been torture before, but now... 

“Ribyna...” His voice was a mere croak, barely above a whisper, an anguished plea for her to answer. And she did.

“I’m tired, Fahjoth.” Ribyna’s own voice was hoarse and cracked, and it was only too easy for Fahjoth to know that she was crying. “Leave me alone.”

As silence fell throughout the jail corridor Fahjoth slumped against the wall, his hand dropping limply to the ground. In the quiet that followed he could still hear wheezing sobs coming from the cell next door, despite Ribyna’s best attempts at hiding them. It was then that Fahjoth let his own tears fall, trailing down his cheeks as he finally settled into a wretched, crushing despair.

                                  —————————

How long had it been?

Fahjoth had attempted to keep track of the days at first, but by around the middle of the second year all hope of counting was long gone. Past that it was just a stream of repetition as the days blurred into one. It was long enough that Fahjoth’s hair was beginning to grow white, in any case. Though he had no mirror to see himself with, a silvery strand would occasionally come loose from his head, which was both puzzling and quite frankly depressing. Prison must be ageing me, he mused wryly. 

There was no leaving the cell he had been forced to call home. Food — if the pitiful morsels they were given could even be called that — and water were left at the gate. Sometimes, Fahjoth would be able to chat to the other prisoners, or even the guards. He’d managed to get on first name terms with a few of them now, who reassured him that a charming lad like him ought to be out in no time. The months and years came and went with no sign of this prediction coming to pass, but Fahjoth didn’t care. He didn’t want to go anywhere without Ribyna. 

The guards were mostly reticent, but from the information Fahjoth had managed to glean from their interactions, he deduced that the issue was a complicated one. It seemed that the Imperial council, to whom the issue had been escalated, were having trouble deciding whether Ribyna’s crime amounted to murder or simply manslaughter, which would grant her somewhat of a lighter sentence and the possibility of avoiding capital punishment. But apparently, as one of the guards had whispered to Fahjoth one dark and dismal Loredas afternoon, Rusant’s wealthy and influential family were very angrily lobbying for a public execution, further complicating matters. And then there was the matter of whether Fahjoth himself was an accomplice in the Captain’s murder. Many of the more friendly guards assured him that this wouldn’t be the case, but it seemed that Fahjoth would be in for the long haul as well.  

But, oddly, he didn’t mind. Fahjoth much preferred being close to his twin over being separated any further, even if it meant a dreary existence in the Imperial Prison dungeons. Ribyna herself was mostly quiet; occasionally she and Fahjoth would talk amongst themselves, their fingertips brushing as both reached out of their prison cells towards one another. But she knew as well as Fahjoth did that her future was looking very bleak indeed, and it frequently reflected in her withdrawn and melancholic demeanour. 

Until a day came when everything would change yet again. 

Fahjoth was awoken early one Sun’s Height morning by the inconsiderately loud footsteps of two prison guards, who came marching past his cell at dawn. His cell painted with bright peachy gold streaks by the sunrise, Fahjoth hastened to sit up and hurry over to the cell gate. A change in schedule only meant one thing; either someone new was being admitted, or someone was leaving. As the guards weren’t accompanied by any new prisoner, evidently it was the latter. 

His stomach dropped as he realised that the guards had stopped outside Ribyna’s cell

“Vetharys?” one of the guards asked, consulting a roll of parchment. 

Ribyna’s voice was wary. “Yeah?” 

“Come with us. Emperor’s orders.”

The Emperor himself had got involved?! Fahjoth felt his heart banging as dread overtook him. Was it time already?!

“What’s happening?” he demanded, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. Unfortunately, the guards were unmoved. 

“None of your business, prisoner. Alright, Vetharys, stand back. We’re opening the door.”

There was a shuffling of footsteps and a clanking of metal, but Fahjoth couldn’t see what was happening no matter how hard he pushed himself against the bars of his cell. The next thing he was able to see was Ribyna being pushed out of her cell by one of the guards, her hands tightly bound behind her back as the manacles that adorned all prisoners’ wrists were firmly locked together. 

The guards began to escort Ribyna out, and as she passed Fahjoth’s cell, he felt a shiver run down his spine. As she met his eyes, his sibling looked utterly terrified. 

“Fahjoth!” she whimpered, almost resisting the guards for a moment as Fahjoth reached out towards her, ignoring the tears spilling hot and fast down his cheeks again. Ribyna’s own eyes were brimming with tears as she was whisked away by the guards without hesitation. 

“Ribyna-!” Fahjoth cried, continuing to reach out to her even after they had rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and vanished from view, and even after their footsteps receded into silence. 

So that was it, then.

His twin, his best friend, the one person who had been there for him his entire life was heading towards her demise and there was nothing Fahjoth could do about it. 

He howled out in frustration and devastation, slamming his fists against the wall of his cell, but soon his strangled yells dissolved into sobs instead as grief overtook him completely. His legs gave way from beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, his shoulders jerking as he wept without restraint. 

Along with heartbreak for his lost sibling, a horrible emptiness began to take root in his chest. For the first time in his life, Fahjoth was now completely and desperately alone.

[anika-ann]

Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Prologue

Just My Luck

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 1730

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Your life ended the moment you gained your powers and then found your way to the Avengers business. It’s a logical move for a villain to hurt your family to get to you – except no one outside your team knows who’s hiding behind the mask of Frostbite and they think you died the day of the lab accident giving you abilities.

Who found out? How? And what is their game? Only if you knew… at least you’re not alone in this. Far from it. You have an amazing boyfriend and a bunch of friends by your side.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of terminal diseases and experimetal treatment, mention of (sexual) child abuse

Story Masterlist

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Happiness did not last. It was a known fact, clear as day. Yet, you had let yourself believe for a while.

When you opened the envelope, scolding yourself for your naivety was truly the first thing you did. Or rather the second thing, because the first instinct was to curse.

“Fuck.”

Only then came the realization and the flash of anger aimed at yourself.

Happiness was not something to last. When had it ever in your life?

When you had been four years old, you had found the best friend for life or at least you had thought so. Her name was Emma, she had owned the biggest collection of hair-bands and she hadn’t minded sharing them with you.

Her family moved out from your neighbourhood before you turned six.

Few months after your first day at school – where you had loved it, finding a cheery boy with chubby cheeks and long-ish blond hair to sit with, immediately making friends with him and meeting his other friend, this time a girl again – you had started feeling dizzy and weak.

You had been diagnosed with a disease of incidence of 1: 100 000 000 shortly after. Just your luck.

While the headmaster of your elementary school had been promising they would provide you with an individual studying plan, they hadn’t. You had to switch schools and you had lost contact with your friends again.

By the time you turned thirteen, you had been to tens of doctors, but all they had been doing had been slowing down the progress of your disease almost insignificantly. You had been sleeping twelve hours a day, exhausted all the time. Any sort of sport had been out of question except walking – short walks, of course.

Your parents loved you nevertheless, even when you could tell that taking care of you, running from one doctor to another with zero results, had been draining them. They had dealt with your puberty and depressing thoughts. You had never told them you had wanted to kill yourself and that the one time you had actually started gathering pills, you had flushed them down the toilet in the end.

What you had told them was when you had met a guy at your support group. Ian had been a really sweet guy who had been diagnosed with diffuse large B-cell lymphoma. Ian had been your biggest love so far and the first serious relationship. You had been going through the hard times of therapy; together, since a new hope for your successful treatment had risen.

Ian had achieved a complete remission and his family had moved three states over to get a fresh start; it had been a heart-breaking goodbye. The goodbye felt even worse when not even two months later, the doctor leading your experimental treatment had gotten inappropriately handsy with his ten-year old son and went to jail, crushing your hopes completely.

You had been almost shocked when the alien invasion of New York hadn’t taken your parents from you considering your luck.

It had been the opposite actually, at least you had thought so – there truly had been some kind of luck, because relatively shortly after the City of New York had got hit, a new doctor had appeared out of nowhere.

Of course you had say yes to the new treatment – maybe rather for your parents than yourself.

Once again, you had learned that happiness never lasted. The experiment had gotten out of the team’s hands and it blew up to their faces. Or rather made their blood run cold. You had.

You dying to protect everyone you ever loved and who had stayed – that only being your parents at that point – had been necessary. You had told to yourself that it had been for the best, ending your parents’ misery. After all, they still could have another child, or adopt at least.

Cutting the ties had been the only option.

You had been lucky in a way – in return, you had gained a bunch of friends who were now as close as family to you, the best bunch of siblings (slash uncles, because really, Tony and Hawkeye were too much of father figures to be considered your brothers) and one amazing man to love.

No matter how crazy it was, you became a hero of some sort – you had become an Avenger and a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Your family was safe, your parents moving to Pennsylvania to start a new life and after a long time, you were truly happy.

It was a stupid mistake to think it could last.

Four months after getting together with Steve, you had received a phone in your fan mail, together with a tiny note in a neat handwriting.

‘Wait for my call, Snowflake’.

“Steve!” you called out for him, dropping the phone as if it burned you. It hit the wooden table with a clank.

You voice shook with fright on the simple syllable. Your heart was fighting its way out of your chest, beating rapidly.

Why would anyone send you a phone? Why would anyone call you a Snowflake? Steve called you that. And no one outside the team knew.

Well, Matt Murdock aka Daredevil knew, but just like everyone else, he knew better than to call you that; Tony had once called you your captain’s nickname jokingly and Steve shot daggers from his eyes so sharp that no one dared to do so ever since. Plus, this handwriting was way too pretty to belong to a blind man.

Not to mention the fact that you were sure as hell that Matt wasn’t just walking around spilling the beans about your privacy.

“You called? You okay? …had anyone asked you out again?” he teased you in the end to light up his concern. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, snapping your head to him. He was exiting the bathroom, only his sleeping sweats on, his hands busy with drying his hair with a towel. He frowned when seeing your expression. “Snowflake?”

You winced at the addressing, so soft on his lips, yet making your throat tight as the author of the note – a complete stranger – had used the same nickname.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he walked closer, tossing the towel on the bed carelessly. His eyes were examining your face closely.

You couldn’t say a word; all the words, all the panic grew as lump in your throat, tying your tongue.

“May I?” Steve asked quietly as he leaned closer and you nodded, turning back to the desk. Steve glanced over your shoulder, his big palms resting on the table.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying the items wouldn’t be there when you opened them again.

Steve’s sharp inhale crushed your hope and told you that you had no such luck.

“Who wrote it?” he demanded, switching from Steve to the Captain in a second. Tears escaped your eyes.

“I don’t know. There’s no address or signature.”

His warm palm touched your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You could sense his inner turmoil, him trying to balance the soothing boyfriend and reliable leader. “We’ll get it to Banner and Stark. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

His lips kissed the top of your head and then his comforting presence was gone. He pulled a t-shirt over his head, taking both the note and the phone into his handkerchief so he wouldn’t add his fingerprints on the top of yours and the mailer’s.

Except the phone started ringing on the way to the lab.

“Shouldn’t I…?” you squeaked weakly.

You felt like you had never received all the training, all the hours of Natasha and Steve teaching you how to remain calm in stressful situations. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been through worse; yet, there was something extremely wrong with this, something your intuition was nudging you with.

You couldn’t help it – the way this whoever got so close to your intimate life was scaring the shit out of you and your mind was suddenly blank, all experience and training thrown out of the window.

Steve shook his head. “Not until we get to the lab so they could at least trace the call.”

You gulped and followed Steve as he made his way in long strides, in rapid tempo. You were trying your best to ignore the annoying default ringtone, but it was like ringing was coming right from inside your head. It was ringing for eternity.

Steve looked at you with worries as it felt silent. His gaze softened when seeing your face and he slowed down his pace. “Hey. We won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

You gave him a tight smile neither of you believed and your shaky legs finally brought you to Tony’s lair.

“Oh, there are my favourite frozen friends. What can I do for you?”

“Not really in mood for joking, Stark.”

Tony’s too-much-caffeine-induced cheerfulness fell just like his smile. “What is it? Why do have these faces?”

You looked at Steve, hoping he would do the talking. He barely opened his mouth when the phone beeped again, this time with a text.

Steve frowned at the screen, his eyes going wide and his shoulders tensing.

“What is it?” you whispered almost soundlessly.

You could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he raised his gaze to you. His expression was one of horror. You were too scared of what he had seen to check the screen yourself.

“There’s a photo attached to a message,” he announced, his voice strangled. What on Earth could make him sound like that?

“What does it say?” you asked hesitantly, while Tony spoke up at the same time. “Whose phone is that?”

“You better pick up next time if you want them back in one piece,” Steve read out loud and quickly looked away from the phone.

Your heart stopped. Want what back? Want who back? Who the fuck was threatening you and what were they threatening you with?

You cleared your throat while Tony walked to Steve’s side, impatient with the slow progress. He froze too, shooting you an alarmed look.

“What’s in the picture?”

It was a rhetorical question, really. Deep inside, you already knew. There was someone threatening you, most likely with a picture of someone you would want back, and they had somehow got close enough to you to know you were being called Snowflake by the man you loved. There was no doubt they figured out your identity and there weren’t many people they could have targeted.

Steve raised his gaze to you, blue eyes serious and full of sorrow, confirming your suspicion with only two words.

“Your parents.”

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 1

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain​

I tagged people who followed the previous part, sorry if you didn’t want that. Rules remain the same - anyone wants in or out, send me a message :)

Thank you for reading!

[truecrimeroom]

This is a long one but worth the read!!

Crystal Roger's Disappearance

In case you are unaware, Crystal Rogers (35), was a mother of five children. She disappeared over the 4th of July weekend, in 2015. She spent the night prior to her disappearance with her boyfriend Brooks Houck, with whom she shared one son, and she was never seen again. Remains were just recently discovered, not far from where Crystal was last seen. The FBI recently took over her case and the investigation is on-going.

🔹️July 3, 2015 - Last Seen

A family member saw Crystal Rogers leaving Walmart early on July 3rd. Her ex-husband, also saw Crystal on that day, when she dropped of two of their children at his home.

Houck claims, on the afternoon/evening of July 3rd, they were at his mothers farm, feeding cows. They left and went home, and he went to bed. He claimed Rogers stayed up playing games on her phone and that the next morning when Houck awoke, Rogers was gone but she had not taken their son with her. He then took their son and went back to his mother's house for 4th of July. He says he tried to call Crystal but she did not answer.

🔹️July 5, 2015 - Missing Person's Report Filed

Crystal's family continually tried to contact her but she did not respond. They began searching around town for her and became very concerned. So, Crystal's mother, Sherry Ballard, filed a missing person's report with the Nelson County Sheriff's Office.

🔹️July 5, 2015 - Vehicle Found

Someone noticed Crystal's vehicle, a maroon Chevrolet Sedan, was parked on the Bluegrass Parkway. That individual notified her father, Tommy Ballard. Tommy went and found the vehicle and noticed her keys, purse, diaper bag, and cell phone were all inside. The keys were still in the ignition and the vehicle also had a flat tire.

Numerous family members and friends spent the following days searching the area around where the vehicle was found. Family also claimed that Houck, Crystal's boyfriend, never offered to help look for her.

🔹️July 6, 2015 - Reward Announced

Crystals family announced a $25,000 reward for any information leading to her return. A massive search was underway but nothing was found.

🔹️July 7, 2015 - The Interrupted Interview

Now, one thing about this case that I think is important to note, is that Brooks Houcks older brother, Nick Houck, was a police officer for Bardstown PD, at that time.

During Brooks Houcks interview with the Nelson County Sheriffs Office, his older brother Nick called him. Nick told Brooks not to cooperate anymore and to leave the interview and Brooks did.

Some people see this and say, "oh its just an older brother looking out for his younger brother." However, many found this extremely suspicious and were shocked that a member of law enforcement was telling his brother not to cooperate with law enforcement, when the mother of his child was missing.

🔹️July 10, 2015 - Search Warrant

The Houck family farm was searched by the Nelson County Sheriffs Office because it was the last place that Crystal was known to be alive. It is not known what was or was not found but it was just the first of many searches.

🔹️July 15, 2015 Nick Houck, Forced Interview

Nick Houck was interviewed by Kentucky State Police. He initially refused to be interviewed but Bardstown Police Chief McCubbin basically forced him to do the interview. Houck, was then told that bodily fluids were found in his trunk but he couldn't explain why.

🔹️October 2015 - Major Announcements

First, Sheriff Mattingly came out and said that Crystal Rogers was presumed dead. He saw no reason that she would not be with her children unless something bad happened to her.

Second, Nick Houck was fired from the Bardstown PD. He was fired for interfering with the investigation and also for failing a polygraph.

The third announcement, was that Brooks Houck was a prime suspect. However, Brooks had never been arrested or charged with anything regarding Crystals death.

🔹️December 2015 - An Arrest

Danny Singleton, an employee for Houck, was arrested for lying to a grand jury. He lied about where he was around the time when Crystal went missing. He was finally charged with false swearing and was sentenced to one year in prison. He ended up being released prior to serving the full year and was placed on probation.

🔹️November 19, 2016

Crystal's father Tommy Ballard, had never given up on figuring out what happened to his daughter. He took things into his own hands and continued to investigate her disappearance and some people weren't happy about it. He was in the media frequently and would always say he knew who killed his daughter.

On November 19, 2016, Tommy was getting ready to go hunting on his families property, next to the Bluegrass Parkway, with his twelve year old grandson. Some one had been waiting and hiding along the treeline on the property, and shot Tommy with a rifle. The single shot hit him in his chest, and killed him instantly. Whoever did this, clearly had planned it, and it is believed to be a targeted assassination. Police still say its possible that it was a hunting accident. Although, that is hard to believe when looking at the evidence.

Many are convinced that his death is connected to this disappearance of his daughter Crystal Rogers. However, noone has been charged with the death of Tommy Ballard.

🔹️August 6, 2020 - FBI Comes In

The case essentially went cold for years, until July 2020. In July 2020, remains were found in an area of Nelson County, not far from where Crystal was last known to be. This prompted the FBI to take over the case. As of right now, the remains are at the FBI's lab in Quantico and the FBI is awaiting DNA results. We do know the remains are female and are believed to have been between the ages of 24-82. Rogers is currently the only woman missing in Nelson County

Since the FBI took over the case, at least nine search warrants have been executed, and over fifty people have been interviewed in Bardstown.

🔹️Theories (not my own theories, these are theories that have been considered by many others)

Crystal never left the Houck family farm on July 3, 2015. She was murdered by Brooks that day and his brother Nick helped him dispose of her body and to leave her vehicle on the Bluegrass Parkway.

Houck murdered Crystal in their home. He handled everything himself but he had help leaving her vehicle. His brother Nick wasn't involved directly but knew after the fact.

Crystals vehicle was having issues, so she pulled over, and some other person picked her up, and they ended up harming her.

She left of her volition because she was overwhelmed with her life and wanted to start over. Which I think we all know is pretty ridiculous.

What do you believe happened to Crystal Rogers?

[inkribbon796]

Crackdown Ch. 3

Chapter 3: How I Learned to Quit Worrying and Give Parole a Chance

Summary: Roman and King swing by to talk to Yancy.

A/N: Title is a reference to Dr. Strangelove. This chapter happens at the same time as chapter 2. Final chapter coming out soon.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

When the Host had gathered the heroes for the massive arrest operation, he’d outlined Yancy as a difficult part of his plan, then told Roman he was the only possible way to get Yancy on parole.

At first Roman had rolled his eyes and figured that the Host was just being overdramatic about their chances. He’d been so overly confident he’d had Oliver, Bing. And King wait in another room.

But Roman had been wrong.

“Come on,” Roman pleaded, he was in full costume talking with Yancy in Happy Trails. Their discussion had gone from pleasant small talk to an absolute standstill.

“Why won’t any of youse understand that I don’t wants ta leave?” Yancy spat at Roman.

“You don’t find it a bit off putting that you barely have any memory of the event and you barely had a trial?”

“What does it matter?” Yancy shot back. “I’s killed people, good people. Did they’s tell youse what I’s did?”

“You killed your parents,” Roman answered gently.

“My biological parents,” Yancy added. “They’s were good people, wish I’d have known them more, they’s didn’t deserve what happened ta them. An’ I’s murdered them.”

“I understand that you’re afraid to get out there, but the facts are that you were being controlled by something and hiding in here isn’t helping, and if you need to get away from whatever was causing that horrible outburst, you need a place Dark can’t get into.” Roman was trying to stay calm but he didn’t understand why he had to be in here when Logan probably would have done a better job and this conversation would have been done hours ago.

At that point the door opened, and King walked in, he was in costume, but he took off his glasses and Yancy went completely still, “Kay?”

Roman stared at King, “Have you been pulling a Clark Kent this whole time?”

“Host’s enchantment works with on anything I put over my eyes,” King explained. “My glasses my goggles, not that I’m going to need them after tonight.”

“What’s goin’ on t’night?” Yancy asked in concern. “Where youse been, the Ol’ Man’s been looking fer youse fer ages?” Yancy asked.

“Cleaning up my record,” King answered, rubbing something on the frame of his glasses before putting them back.

“Youse gonna be at that awhile,” Yancy warned.

“Yeah, the government tends to remember embezzlement and fraud,” King agreed.

“I’s still don’t know why youse are here,” Yancy reminded. “Youse obviously like workin’ wit’ the heroes, I’m happy here. ‘Sides, we gots too different RAP sheets to take care ‘a an’ mine are way worse.”

King made a deep sigh, “Illy’s is longer.”

Yancy crossed his arms, closing himself off a bit, “No one beats Artie, no one.”

“How about this?” Roman cut in, Yancy not looking away from King. “You try it, and if it doesn’t work out you can come back here with your friends. We get proven wrong and you can stay here.”

Maybe it was how long the conversation had been going, the amount of people and forces pushing him to leave. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Yancy opened his mouth to refuse, like he had dozens of times, but to everyone’s surprise, especially his own, he answered, “Yes.”

King’s eyes were huge, and Roman looked excited.

“You won’t regret this,” Roman promised.

I already do, rattled around his skull as he watched Kay reach the door first.

“I’ll talk to the Warden,” King said and Yancy felt like everything was spinning out of control.

“Hey!” Yancy called putting and suddenly he was in almost the same room but it was darker and the table was made of wood instead of being hard plastic bolted to the floor.

The Host was sitting across the table, smiling at Yancy. Yancy felt that similar discomfort from the last time he’d met the mystery man in his locked solitary cell.

Yancy jumped, “Shit, youse can’t do that ta people.”

“The Host greets the prisoner,” the Host announced, “and hopes that he is well.”

“No, I’m not,” Yancy shouted, feeling all the anxiety and fear bubbling up inside him. “I’m already goin’ crazy an’ I’m not e’en out yet!”

“The Host assures Yancy that he is having a completely normal reaction and has not slipped into the Void yet,” the Host answered calmly.

“Normal, my ass,” Yancy slammed his fist on the table, before looking nervous. “I’s already slippin’.”

“Has Yancy ever played chess before,” the Host asked.

“I’s ain’t playin’ games wit’ yah, everytime I’s see yah yer like a creep,” Yancy spat. “What’s wrong wit’ youse?”

“The Host has a vested interest in Yancy’s well-being,” the Host answered, “and he has come to give Yancy a warning.”

“An’ I’s should listen ta youse, ‘cause?” Yancy demanded.

“Because if Yancy remains in the prison while the Actor is back in Egoton, it will result in the deaths of every staff member and inmate in Happy Trails, with exception to Yancy himself.”

Yancy just stared at him, “Dark?”

“He will not do so with the intention of reclaiming Yancy,” the Host admitted, “the victims in question will just have the unfortunate luck of being too close to where Yancy is.”

“An’ where should I be when Dark is on a murder spree? Next to him?” Yancy already felt like punching him.

“Or with the heroes,” the Host answered. “The Host is hoping to reduce casualties.”

“So what are youse getting out of this?” Yancy glared at him. “Money? Control?”

The Host knit his fingers together, “The Host had a previous life of kidnapping and murdering people in gruesome ways and to make up for that past self he is trying to save those he can.”

“Real noble fer the heroes ta take on convicted criminals,” Yancy commented.

“Oh, the Author died before he could be caught or convicted,” the Host smiled, Yancy froze uncomfortably still, staring at his adopted brother in shock. “That and he is overtly interested in one of the heroes’ doctors.”

Yancy chuckled at the familiar but unexpected comment, “Classy, Artie, real class act.”

The Host stood, “If Yancy will excuse the Host, he has to keep Dark from trying to kill several heroes. If Yancy cooperates with the heroes now, then when this is over he will make sure Yancy returns to Happy Trails, regardless of what the heroes or Dark want.”

Yancy thought on that, “I’ll hold you to it.”

Smiling, the Host disappeared and the room came back into focus, Roman and the Warden walking back in with some papers.