#might mess around with their colors a bit but its something :/c

[goudasnew]

WOOOOOO I LOVE YOUR OCS!!!!!!!!! (I am their #2 fan of all time cause you're #1 mutual<3)

Boom you get hit with more ocs

These two are in charge of running things in Springcrest, Josephine takes care of the day to day duties while Theodore acts more like an advisor, and are the reason why Springcrest has a strict curfew during the night.

[kittsu-and-company]

[ attached is a video file titled “1/2”. take a look? ]

(tw for.. horror im sorry im so tired i can’t think and wanna post ill fix TWs tomorrow </3)

The first thing that’s noticeable as the video clicks on is the sound of howling wind, the camera focusing from a view pressed up against a back wall. Kittsu’s breath is clearly shaky, and the camera shudders as it focuses on the dilapidated surroundings, once lavish halls and securely locked rooms lay scattered about, charred and blackened and damp after years of being untouched.

The mustard yellow wallpaper with gorgeous golden rhombuses peeled, baring their cotton candy colored insulation like a gaping wound, spilling the building’s breathing lifeblood over every surface it could reach.

The sourceless wind sounded like a terrible, shuddering breath, reverberating throughout the building that looks as if it could topple any minute. It sounded like a death rattle, a death rattle that could easily take Kittsu- and that poor lost Patrat down along with it.

What a stupid child.

Kittsu’s breath is audibly shaky as she begins to slowly place one foot in front of the other, going left from her current position, from the numbers on the remaining doors, she’s probably going deeper in. Every shuddering inhale the broken stone takes makes Kittsu freeze, as if pausing would save her from being crushed under rubble if it chose to give out now.

Her steps slowly, ever so slowly, become quicker, a bit more confident as she tries to call out to the Patrat, whose name is apparently Daisy; though muttering of “they’re just messing with you it’s fine they won’t hurt you” are regularly sprinkled within. The camera regularly turns back to make sure nothing is following the teen on her lonesome. Each step is a terrifying gamble if what may appear before, Kittsu stops at each door and calls for Daisy, before moving on. How long had she been doing this..?

This limbo of “what’s next” continues for 30 minutes, before a shuddering sound comes from within one of the closed off rooms. Kittsu stops dead in her tracks, holding her breath as her previous shaking becomes that much clearer in the face of real, possible danger. She stands there for minutes, listening desperately for the ever so quiet sounds within, and ever so carefully, she approaches and fearfully knocks on the door. The sound stops dead, and a minute passes before the door is flung open, and a humanoid shape flees further into the room.

Kittsu whimpers in obvious terror, fighting off the panic that’s so clear from watching the video. “C-can I come in..?”

Another minute passes.

She takes one tentative step forward, entering the room.

…

A feminine figure stands in the center, on a small, charred coffee table in the center of the room. The figure is wearing a blackened nightgown, a clear victim of the same fire that took its building tomb. There is no light except for Kittsu’s unimpressive flashlight, the light seems to be eaten by the darkness as she shone it on the figure. Utter silence is steadily broken by a dramatic crescendo of the wind’s howls, the building itself wailing in a melody not unlike a sorrowful symphony. The silhouette turns around, only its charred nightgown illuminated as Kittsu’s shaking, near purple hands caused the light to dance in a way one might have called playful in any other scenario.

With much effort the light stills for just a moment upon the specter’s face, for just a split second so short that the video needs to pause to get a good look at what caused Kittsu to flee in a dead sprint.

Manic happiness painted the ghost’s face, manic joy not without touches of vicious malice.

Kittsu did not turn around to see if it gave chase; and she ran far faster than most may have expected for someone of her stature and… lack of regular exercise. Her breakneck pace suddenly slowed as the camera gets launched forward, Kittsu’s shout of alarm fading slightly as it skids further away from her, having tripped on something chittering.

“My Arceus- Daisy! You- you need to come with please we need to leave we need to get out-“

Kittsu’s words are drenched in terror and desperation, pleading with the small rodent that from the sounds of it made in response, was quick to join her in her plan to leave the screaming world around. Her sobs of relief at finally being able to go home are audible, the terrified chitters of the dehydrated, starving Patrat being the only form of company she’s had in a long while since entering this hellhole of a hotel. It takes a few minutes for the camera to be picked up again, but it is turned to show Kittsu’s still wet face with a skinny Patrat in her arms. The mask she wears to protect against asbestos in this place is cracked, but still functional as the camera turns to show she had tripped on a pile of rubble.

By now the wind has died down to a low, tortured moan that never seems to quiet, even for a second; calm enough to not send the pair fleeing in terror, but not quiet enough to let go of the persistent tension that seeped from every crack in the arcforsaken place.

…

The video cuts off here. It doesn’t seem like it was quite meant to, but it had already happened…

Was Kittsu even online to post this..?

[golby-moon]

oh no I accidentally started making fakemon for the first time since my fake Fidough and Lechonk evolutions. these were designed for a few people from their discord usernames and from their own vague description of things they might wanna see

-

first up is @whitster-lizzy

I think by the end of a somewhat confusing back and forth that I was supposed to make a combo of Bulbasaur, Medusa, and poison ivy. I took inspiration from the last two, but just could not get Bulbasaur's plump little front half to look good morphed into a tail. instead, I went for more of a 'protector of the forest' thing and added a maternal vibe that Whitney kinda gives off and ended up with this. I wanted to put an emphasis on three for the three leaves of poison ivy, so even its tears (which may or may not be from sad edits and the inability to hug anything without poisoning them :(() carry that, as do the scales sporadically thrown around there. the arms became vines when I was too tired and frustrated to keep trying to redraw actual arms to get them to look right (oops) and the hair is just a mess as I'd expect vine-hair to be

-

next is @rauko-is-a-free-elf, who started this whole thing with a comment about someone mispronouncing their name as 'Rocco'

for whatever reason, I came up with an ice bird instead of something that screams 'rock type' idk why either. took inspiration from blue jays (one of their favorite birds) as well as peacocks with the tail and tried to go for sort of a crystal structure on there (along with dots that were supposed to be snow but failed to look like it) while still including the distinctive dark swoops blue jays have on their tails. the wings were supposed to be icicles and that was actually the first thing I designed rather than the head or the body. it really does make use of diamond shapes so I did try to add some rock type elements to it mostly in color scheme though maybe it would've been better without. I'm not really sure why it has a mask other than I wanted to give its face some dark lines like blue jays have but my brush was too thick to add too many little details. so mask👌

-

now we have @bleuzombie

I didn't have any sort of a prompt or direction for this one and based it entirely off of their username. I originally took inspiration from Machop in the way of body shape and went from there, developing a vaguely reptilian form somehow that looked a lot more lizard-y before the dark typing came out in the form of skeleton-bits not unlike the Cubone line. the spiky bat there is a reference to The Walking Dead ofc, which led me to develop more of a baseball vibe with the dark line under its eyes representative of the grease baseball played use to reduce glare and with the sorta long sock-like design for the feet, along with the baseball stitching pattern that doubles as what's supposed to represent the stripes like all baseball uniforms have. its hands have always looked boxing glove-y from the very first beginnings of the sketch so I just colored them to match the rest of the color scheme and oh no now it's a fighting type oops

-

now @nickelkeep

this one is also inspired by their username, which at first had me thinking about how dragons hoard coins but then somehow got turned into c a t and I don't really know why. either way I tried to keep a coin theme going (especially with its eyes, which are supposed to look like coins) while also making it a dark/fairy as sorta requested and it became a representation of the duality of cat: both angel and devil (also a twist of money being the root of evil and all that). so it got fluffy and spiky at once and now has pitchfork-themed whiskers and a few occult symbols to offset its scarf and heart motifs. I think this one was actually the first design I worked on and to the relief of everyone, I actually used a reference of a cat to get the pose right 🎉

(idk why there's a bad drawing of a nickel I think I was originally gonna make that into a background but I did decide against it in favor of making these look more like official pokemon character reference sheet things. enjoy the bad nickel anyway)

-

next one up is @anyreiart

idk what happened with this one. I don't know much about anyrei and their username doesn't inspire much in the way of fakemon (beyond a few seconds where I thought of making a sun-inspired something with the 'rei' becoming 'ray'), so I went with a theme based on what I do know, which is that they paint, along with two pictures that they sent, one of which was Gothorita (the other was for a hairstyle I think but I did steal the funky red and black checkered tie from that because reasons). going off of that, this one is supposed to look like a paintbrush with its body and its edgy anime hair, and its belt continues carrying the paintbrush motif. since I was provided with the request to make it goth, I added thick eyeshadow-esque lines under its eyes and kinda used the hairstyle from the picture while also turning it into a paintbrush that utilizes their favorite color as the paint color. carrying the gothic art idea, I tried to make its lower half (originally meant to be a blobby sort of easel shape before I changed it) into something resembling stained glass windows that was famous at the time (I got confused multiple times while making the stained glass design so it's not all that consistent uh). it was supposed to be dark type, but ended up giving off more of a ghost/fairy vibe after I realized I accidentally made it a ballerina paintbrush (oops)

-

moving on to @as-lost-as-sams-shoe

this one is heavily inspired by their username, starting with the scallion, which is a kind of oniony thing. they themself actually added the 'wrapped' part to push the pun a little further, which made me think of Swadloon and its cozy little leaf blanket, which naturally led to the scallion with its massive head and slimmer body (to match the shape of an onion more than a scallion admittedly) to be all wrapped up. scallions have leaves that look like they were cut straight across, which lead to the development of its 'bangs' (which was also inspired by the fact that scallions themselves grow underground and only the leafy parts are seen, adding a 'shy' element) as well as the tassels along the bottom of its leaf-wrap. the lines along its body are made to represent both the rings inside of an onion as well as the word 'rapscallion,' which is a term that can be used to mean villain or bad guy, earning it prison-esque stripes. its eyes are massive as a play on onions making people cry, and the smaller parts of its eyes that I can't remember the names of are based off of onion rings. the skull and crossbones shape is just to make it pirate-y, which is what I can't not picture when I read the word 'rapscallion' for one reason or another

-

and finally @zybynarx, who gets a finished one as well as a sketch I scrapped and started anew

I actually had a lot to work with for this one, as they specifically asked for a fire type puppy pokemon. first instinct is ofc to go for a dalmatian, which is the firehouse dog or whatever, and I wanted to make the lower half black as a reference to that scene from 101 Dalmatians where they coat themselves in ashes to appear completely black. I made some firefighter-y stripes and tried to make its back legs look almost like boots which looks, in a couple of word, super weird. I then added tinder fluff on head and a kindling sort of thing on the neck, but when I tried to develop the back half's design, my brain sorta died and I couldn't decide what to do, so I went back to the drawing board fully intent on making like a complete copy of what I'd already tried

instead I ended up with this personification of tinder that's just all fluffy all the way down instead of the almost lion mane of tinder design I was originally picturing. I carried over the themes of adding firefighter stripes to allude to a firefighter's jacket as well as the kindling collar thing the other one had. I kept the bottom half black but made it more like wispy smoke than ash that trails behind it when it moves (which is a lot because puppy). the eyes are two pieces of coal and the nose is supposed to look like a match but doesn't. it looks very fluffy but is probably too squirmy to make a good lapdog. it just has that squirmy ball of energy vibe to it

-

whether people really like these or not, it was definitely a learning experience, and I did pick up on a lot of things to keep in mind for future fakemon designs (particularly not to overcomplicate things and go more for consistency, which I did not originally do as I wasn't planning on make them into character sheets at all and didn't plan beyond the main drawings of the fakemon)

this craziness is a result of the @deancasanimebang (which is still accepting artists until October 1st :0)

(08/28/23)

[wildstar25]

I am ask about your warrior of light.

I will ask for no other information as I know nothing else and will assume the rest from your answers.

Favorite color?

If estinien and alphinaud were hanging off a cliff above tautaru infested waters, which would they save from their unrulely demise?

What is their Scion head pat priority (least needed to pat to most needed)

One aetherite is free, which?

What flavor of sauce would they put on chicken wings (any flavor)

Would they keep bees?

What reason would they most likely bite someone?

How long would they survive on a deserted island (assuming there is proper materials to survive you just need the survival skills)

Is this a cool cat?

Answer wisely my friend

These are.... fantastic questions!! o(*°▽°*)o

Favorite color? Dalamud Red! She's always got a bit of red in her outfits!

If estinien and alphinaud were hanging off a cliff above tautaru infested waters, which would they save from their unrulely demise? Arsay would run to Alphinaud without a second thought. She might poke fun at him for whatever he did to earn Tataru's wrath, but his safety is the number one priority. Plus bullying Estinien is very fun. She trusts he can manage to get himself out of any mess he put himself in at this point.

What is their Scion head pat priority (least needed to pat to most needed) In order: C/B tier scions (Hoary and the like), Tataru, Krile, Estinien, Thancred, Urianger (he'd be higher on the list but she couldn't reach him), Lyse, Y'shtola, G'raha, Arsay (yes she put herself on the list. please give her head pats), Ryne (Arsay still considers her a scion family member), Alphinaud, Alisaie

One aetherite is free, which? Limsa! It has been my return point since I started the game and never changed it. In terms of in character reasons: It's the closest place in Eorzea to Arsay's home, its where her guild buddies are, it's where her grand company is, who her free company is set up with, and it's a port town with ships, ferries, and airships to anywhere she'd feasibly need to go to! Arsay is really not a big fan of teleporting directly to an aetherite if she doesn't have to; she much prefers taking the scenic (and cheaper) route!

What flavor of sauce would they put on chicken wings (any flavor) HMMM Arsay would probably eat any flavour, especially if its something she's never had before..... but if she could choose herself.... maybe something like a hot honey mustard? Something tangy, spicy, and sweet!

Would they keep bees? Arsay would not keep bees. Not because she wouldn't like to, but because she'd worry that her adventuring lifestyle would directly impact the level of care the bees receive.

What reason would they most likely bite someone? Got too excited while messing around and had to chomp U.U'' unfortunate since her fangs are quite sharp.

How long would they survive on a deserted island (assuming there is proper materials to survive you just need the survival skills) Arsay grew up on an island and spent a lot of time as a kid going off on her own, so she could probably survive indefinitely. She knows exactly one healing spell so as long as she doesn't completely fuck herself up, she wouldnt have to worry about cuts or infections. Though Arsay's not the best at crafting... but could probably get away with what skills she has now and get better as time goes on! She's very resilient and will not give up!! The only thing that would really get to her is being alone for a long period of time. She could manage for a week or so by herself but the loneliness would catch up to her. Her carbuncle could keep her company, but she'd miss talking to her friends.

Is this a cool cat? Yes. Absolutely. 100%. 1000/10.

Thank you for asking all those question!! It was so fun to answer!

[basil-thoth]

Page 3: Don’t ask questions

Previous: Page 2

Next: Page 4

Masterpost here

Transcription below cut

Panel 1: [Alphys, a yellow lizard monster with a small pair of glasses, groggily walks down a hallway. She is wearing a light set of lavender colored pajamas with black dots. She is seen rubbing her face sleepily. Presumably, she’s just been woken up in the middle of the night.]

Alphys: Ugh- hold on, hold on, ‘m coming…

Alphys: what is i-

Panel 2: [Alphys answers the door to find Gaster, with his memory head back, holding his hands to his chest. They’re covered in bandages. He’s still wearing his dark grey sweater from before.]

Alphys: oh my god!!

Panel 3: [Alphys covers herself with her arms, self-conscious about being in her pjs.]

Alphys: I-I– D-Dr. Gaster.. Wha-what are you– wh-why didn’t you call? I-I-I’m n-not dressed-

Gaster: (in cipher) I need you to heal me.

Panel 4: [Alphys looks at him with a concerned expression.]

Alphys: U-uh, w-why aren’t you signing? 

Alphys: Is s-something wrong?

Panel 5: [Gaster wordlessly holds up his heavily bandaged hands, indicating injury]

Alphys: O-oh, your hands!

Alphys: What happened? Are you hurt?

Panel 6: [Alphys nervously leads Gaster inside, who is slowly rubbing his hands as if to soothe the pain.]

Alphys: I- I can try and heal you, come on…

Alphys: b-but, uh… why aren’t you using your magic hands…? Uh, never mind! I-I p-probably shouldn’t ask, haha…

Panel 7: [They step into Alphys’ living room, revealing a mess. Blankets are strewn over the couch, a half-eaten bag of popato chisps on a cushion. The crumbs are everywhere. Power strips are plugged into the wall, with every socket having a wire plugged in leading somewhere off-panel. Multiple dirty bowls are stacked in front of the couch, and an empty ice cream container is on its side next to them.]

Alphys: oh jeez, uh, d-don’t– uh, j-just, just ignore all of that, uh, I haven’t… had a chance to clean up around here, haha…

Panel 8: [Gaster kneels in front of her, allowing her to reach his hands.]

Alphys: Uh, here, sit here, let me see. What happened?

Alphys: O-oh, right, you ca’t really, uh… (god, so stupid)

[Alphys rubs her face in embarrassment]

Panel 9: [Alphys offers her palms to him, and he tentatively offers his hands in return.]

Alphys: Um, m-maybe if I c-could…

Alphys: uh, take the, bandages off, it m-might be easier if I could see w-what happened…

Panel 10: [Alphys defensively puts her hands up, apologetically gesturing as she speaks]

Alphys: U-uh, I mean, I get being embarrassed if- if it was an accident but I-I’m not going to judge you or anything.

Panel 11: [Gaster stares at her, his body language unreadable.]

Alphys: it-it happens to everyone eventually, right?

Panel 12: [Alphys tilts her head empathetically.]

Alphys: E-even someone as, graceful and careful as you– I-it was an accident, right?

Panel 13: [Gaster nods reluctantly]

Panel 14: [Alphys takes his hands in hers, still talking]

Alphys: Right? S-so, everyone has accidents every now and then, it’s-it’s okay, so, if I c-could just…

Gaster: (in cipher) *sigh* I suppose it’ll be inevitable anyway.

Alphys: Uh, y-yeah… d-didn’t catch any of that, uh…

Panel 15: [Alphys slowly begins unwrapping the bandages from his right hand]

Alphys: So let’s just… take a look…

Panel 16: [The bandages come off, revealing the perfectly circular hole in his hand]

Alphys: oh my GOD?!? What happened?! What did you do?! Oh my god!!!

Panel 17: [Alphys looks down in horror at his mutilated hands]

Gaster: …

Alphys: Oh- god, no wonder you didn’t want to sign, this must– this must hurt so bad, it…

Panel 18: [Alphys inspects the hand a bit closer]

Alphys: it’s cut right through… it’s so clean…

Panel 19: [Alphys looks up at him expectantly]

Gaster: (in cipher) It was an accident.

Panel 20: [Alphys has a slightly defeated look on her face]

Alphys: Is… is the other one like this?

Gaster: …

Panel 21-22: [Alphys nervously looks from side to side, while Gaster maintains neutral body language]

Alphys: T-th… this…

Alphys: I don’t know how you could… this… this doesn’t…

Alphys: um, this d-doesn’t look like, l-like an accident…

Panel 23: [They sit on the floor across from each other, regarding each other in veiled suspicion]

Gaster: …

Alphys: U-um… do, do you have the uh, the uh… the bone? Pieces?

Alphys: ‘Cause, uh, if you do, t-then maybe I c-could…

Panel 24: [Gaster shakes his head as Alphys keeps talking]

Alphys: Y-you don’t have those either…? Um… without them…

Panel 25: [Alphys looks pensive]

Alphys: I mean, I can- make it stop hurting

Alphys: but I w-won’t be able to…

Gaster: (in cipher) I know.

Panel 26: [Alphys envelops Gaster’s hands in green healing magic, her tail curled around her]

Alphys: Jeez, I wish I could understand you…

Panel 27: [A few minutes appear to have passed, as Gaster is now headed on his way out the door. Alphys, from behind him, stop him for a moment.]

Alphys: U-uh, D… Dr. G-Gaster, u-um, before you, uh…

Panel 28: [Gaster turns his head towards her]

Alphys: I, uh, j-just um…

Panel 29: [Alphys is nervously fiddling with her claws]

Alphys: I know… uh, th-things have been hard, for everyone, since… what h-happened, a-and I know you were close to the king and queen, and… uh…

Panel 30: [Gaster looks at her]

Gaster: …

Panel 31: [Alphys anxiously rubs the back of her head crest]

Alphys: B-but, um… you know, if, you… uh… I mean, um… if you’re ever feeling… or, uh… I mean, if you’re… or, no, uh…

Panel 32: [Alphys has gone back to fiddling with her claws]

Alphys: Um, I just wanted to say, that, uh…

Panel 33: [Alphys’s palms are upturned in a placating manner]

Alphys: that there are p-people who, care about you, uh, a lot, and… and i-if something’s wrong or, um, you n-need help or, or someone to talk to, uh, you can… talk to me. or, or someone else. even, if you don’t like me, um…

Panel 34: [Gaster is still looking at her]

Gaster: …

Panel 35: [Alphys looks up at him, a flustered blush on her cheeks]

Alphys: …I-I guess what I’m trying to say is… um, you’re not… you’re not alone, you know?

Alphys: Um… so… yeah.

Panel 36: [Gaster regards her with seemingly indifferent body language]

Panel 37: [Gaster leaves her threshold, beginning his walk back to the lab]

Gaster: (in cipher) …Goodnight, Alphys.

Panel 38: [Gaster walks through New Home, passing multiple grey buildings]

Gaster (internal monologue): That’s where you’re wrong. You can’t help me. Not with this.

Panel 39: [Empt, black frame]

Gaster: (IM) From here, I am alone.

[Previously] [Next]

So many people wanted to know how Alphys reacted to the new holes in his hands! The answer is she’s very worried about him - she knows he did it on purpose but she couldn’t muster up the courage to ask him how or why, and afterwards Gaster shut down all conversations about his hands too forcefully for her to try again. It took everything she had just to say as much as she did. She’s still very worried about him, particularly since every day he looks just a little bit worse…

Alphys can’t understand Wingdings, as mentioned before, which amazingly led to probably the longest instance of Gaster shutting up for once so far, haha.  Oh right, at this point Alphys doesn’t live in the upstairs Lab but in some dinky place in Hotland. She’ll move to the Lab later. 

(What about Asgore? You’ll see eventually.)

[Index]

[mysynthfetish]

Rumble of Ancient Times 18650 Mod

So first this happened...

Feckin went and caught covid again, this time I guess it was the latest strain. Walk in the park compared to when I caught the Omicron variant, that sucked balls. But I had a high fever that lasted for four and a half freakin days, peaking at 39.9ºC, that would go down to 38ºC when I took the fever reducer meds, then shoot right back up to over 39º once the meds stopped working. It's already almost two weeks later and I'm still wrecked, feel like I've been steamrollered. Oof. But before that was going on I obtained this:

The Rumble of Ancient Times. But hold on a sec, something looks different, and not just the groovy colored knob caps from Thonk (those are the shit by the way, they work on the Aira compact and Korg Volca series too). What's that peeking out at the lower left? A USB-C PORT? What mischief is this?! Mwuhahahaha. Yeah so originally it's powered by four triple-A batteries in a holder that has no lid, just exposed to the elements on the bottom side, and I dunno, something about that didn't sit well with me. I was thinking I could power it off a small USB-C smartphone battery brick, but no matter what I did I couldn't get it to power on, then I remembered that those only put out +5V, d'oh! So I had a peep around Jamazon, and found this:

SUPER feckin small thing, that. Like the size of my thumbnail plus a few mm. So what the thing is, is a Li-ion Li-po charger PLUS a step-up transformer in a wee package there. I think it will actually go all the way up to +24V. As it was, I soldered it up according to the diagram there on Jamazon, and after charging an 18650 successfully, feckin A right skippy this shit just might work man! I wired it up to a multimeter to test output voltage, then tweaked the wee trimmer to get +6V output. Then I jimmied the power leads onto the RoAT and crossed my fingers and said three Hail Satans and threw the switch and presto! it feckin worked! SO stoked. 18650s are cheap as balls, and this whole setup is taller but not so much larger than the original configuration, have a look:

I used rather thick 3M VHB super super extra strong double-sided tape to hold the two down, then obtained 25mm hexagonal brass M3 standoff leggiwegs and put it all together, as you can see in the photo second from top. Jamazon again. Well it's either them or order from Kyohritsu and pay almost the same amount but with Jamazon the stuff arrives the next day (or same day depending on the time I place the order). Anyway...

This is what it originally looked like. The battery holder is pretty sturdy and has a goddam good grip on the batteries but still... Hmmmm.

This is the schleprock special in place. I coulda trimmed the wiring a bit but at this point I was like let's just be done with this already. And the awesomesauceiest thing about it is NO NOISE from the battery. This is something that I was super worried about, given that I was going to power the thing with a non-standard power source, but in the end it all worked out fine and YAY ME! Oh I suppose I should mention cost. The batteries were the most expensive part at about ¥2000 for two, because I chose the made in Japan option. For five of the wee USB-C charging slash step up boards plus battery socket/holders it was ¥1399. So to me it felt like $34 even though the exchange rate is ridiculous and the yen is getting its arse beaten senseless right now. Feck. Yeah so if there's anyone out there with one of these thinking ya know I dunno about those batteries... this is an easy to do mod. I don't know how long the battery will hold out for between charges, but seeing as the circuit on the RoAT probably doesn't eat current, I imagine I could go a month or so between charges. This will also work with the flat 3.7V Li-Po batteries by the way. That would yield a lower profile and give a smaller overall device to mess with. Just have to watch out for the mAh value and make sure it's above 3000. Might mess with that in the future. Hmmmm. Something else I did...

Barely visible.. The LED frequency and the shutter speed were not playing nicely with each other. I changed out the Solo and Mute LEDs on a Korg Nanokontrol, to white and yellow respectively, just because. I got a 1010music blue box digital mixer and found out you can use class compliant USB control surfaces and was like well shit. So there you go. The LEDs were SMD but since getting that SMD desolderer thingy off AliExpress, doing work like this has become quite easy. It's still a pain to solder LEDs the size of dust motes though. Jeeezus those things are feckin small.

Hope all is well with you and yours.

[twiceinadream]

Twice React- S/O Makes Them Hold Their Pee

Requested: Yup

Request: Can you write one that TWICE member holding their pee?

a/u: Hey, everyone! Long time no see (haha), this is officially my first post of 2022! I’ve had a lot of ups and downs these past two months and I’m glad to say my life is going a lot better than it has in the past. I attended, Twice III, in LA so if any of you went we might have seen each other but just didn’t know it. Thank you all for being so patient and for all the love and support you’ve given me! (I’m aware this is React is a bit out there but I tried my best)

Category: NSFW and Fluff

C/W: Contains Pee (but nothing too kinky other than holding and peeing on S/O)

Nayeon

“You think this is funny, don’t you?”

Nayeon squirmed in her seat as the pressure in her bladder grew, the constant water you had given her throughout the day had been suspicious and it seemed she was right. The two of you sat in a crowded theater just as the credits started to roll and you could tell she had reached her breaking point, “Y/N, please. I really need to go.” You weighed the options in your head, “Can you hold it till we get home? I’ll make it worth your while.” The promise in your voice was enough to convince your girlfriend to hold out a little longer as you hopped into the car and sped back home. You quickly brought her into the bathtub as you had her strip below her waist, “Ready baby?” Nayeon nodded as you reached a hand between her legs, finding her already soaked, “Someone’s enjoying this.” Your fingers made tight circles around her clit as she gritted her teeth trying to prevent herself from peeing. “Y/N, I really need to go.” You continued pleasuring her before slipping a finger into her entrance, “Did I give you permission?” She shook her head as she grabbed the sides of the tub, “I…I really need to go.” You continued fingering her as you drew it out for as long as you could, “Okay, let it out, Nayeon-ah” Nayeon let out a guttural moan as she bucked her hips up and threw her head back as waves of pleasure wracked her body. Mixed with her release you felt a stream of something warm dribble down your hand as she came down from her high. “I’m sorry.” Nayeon blushed as she looked down at the mess she had made. “Don’t be, you did great, Princess.”

Jeongyeon

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

You could barely contain your smirk as you pushed another full glass of water towards your wife as she looked at it with a pained expression. “Y/N please.” Jeongyeon winced as you pressed against her swollen bladder. “Not yet, baby. I think you can take one more, I might let you go after this.” With nothing to lose the Korean woman quickly downed the glass, she could literally feel the water make its way through her body as she pushed a hand between her thighs to prevent herself from leaking. “Good girl.” You couldn’t help but smile as you got up from your seat and began walking towards the bathroom, “You can go now.” Jeong practically tripped over herself rushing to the bathroom but you stopped her before she could reach the toilet. You kicked off your pants as you sat on the edge of the tub before guiding her to rid herself of her shorts and sit on your thigh. She looked at you in confusion before you simply said, “Go ahead.” Her jaw dropped, “Wait. On you?” You nodded curly before taking in her nervous expression, “Color?” Jeongyeon bit her lip, “Green.” At her answer she swallowed every ounce of pride she had as she closed her eyes and tried to relax, the second she felt the first dribble of pee seep out she quickly stopped as she looked at you again, but you remained emotionless as she finally just let go. Hot streams of pee ran down your leg as Jeongyeon buried her face into your neck, tears of relief and shame rolled down her cheeks as she felt embarrassed and euphoric all at the same time. You gently kissed her cheek as you felt her finish, “Hey, it’s okay. You did amazing.” Jeong sniffed as she hugged you, “It wasn’t too gross was it.” You smiled before pecking her lips, “It was honestly hot as fuck.”

Momo

“You’re mean Y/N-ah.”

Momo whined lowly as she hesitantly down another bottle of water, you bit back a laugh as you placed your hand above her bladder and pushed down lightly. Causing your girlfriend to squeak and press her thighs together to prevent herself from leaking. Momo grimaced as you chuckled at her discomfort, enjoying the way the Japanese woman squirmed under your gaze, “Ready to give up?” Momo nodded as you grabbed her hand in yours and led her to the bathroom. You sat yourself on the edge of the tub and sat her on your thigh, “Alright, go ahead, Momoring.” She looked at you in shock as her mouth floundered for a moment, “W..wait, on y..you!?” You nodded as she grabbed the hem of your shirt, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold off peeing, “Okay.” You cupped her cheek as you made her look into your eyes, “Go ahead.” Momo bit her lip as you felt a little trickle of warmth come down your leg then it turned into a small torrent as her head fell into your neck, her sniffles were muffled in your neck as you kissed her head. “Good job, Momoring.”

Sana

*Pouts in Japanese*

Sana could barely stand still as she pressed a hand between her legs to prevent herself from letting go. You had made sure she had kept thoroughly hydrated throughout the day even going as far as attending their concert practices so you could continue pushing more full water bottles towards every time they took a break. By the end Sana was rubbing her swollen belly as she barely made it out into the hallway, you made a show of helping her claiming that she was just tired as you made your way to the bathroom. Her eyes brimmed with tears as you sat her down on the toilet with her panties still on. “Y/N, I really need to go.” You shushed her as you kissed her on the head, “I know baby, you did so well for me today. You’re free to go whenever you want.” Sana looked at you in confusion, “But, what about my…?” You smirked as your girlfriend shifted uncomfortably trying not to wet herself, “I want you to ruin them for me.” The Japanese woman looked like she wanted to protest before a sudden urge to urinate began overtaking her senses, she bit her lip as she released the tension in her bladder. You watched as the fabric of her panties got significantly dark as she moaned lowly at finally being able to pee. Sana looked up at you when she finished when you leaned down to kiss her, “Good girl.”

Jihyo

“How was this a good idea?”

Jihyo couldn’t help but blush as your eyes traced over her body as she stood in the bathtub with nothing other than a pair of panties on. She crossed her legs uncomfortably as she felt the need to pee grow even stronger within her as you continued to stare. A small whimper left her lips, “Y/N, I need to go. Please.” Her fist clenched and unclenched at her side as she tried to distract herself from the need in her bladder. You hummed thoughtfully, “Well, by all means, Hyo, you’re free to go whenever you want.” You watched her eyes light up with a hope until you held up a very full glass of water, “When you finish this glass.” She looked at you in shock for a moment before she shakily took the glass from your hand, “F..fine.” You smiled as you sat back on the chair you had brought into the bathroom as she brought the glass to her lips, you watched as the liquid disappeared and your girlfriend’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. The water was a lot colder than she had expected and she could practically feel it filling her bladder with each sip she took. Until it was finally empty and she handed it back to you, “There.” She twisted her body where she stood to distract herself from peeing, “Can I please go now?” You smiled at her proudly as you nodded your head. Jihyo closed her eyes as she finally let her body relax and released the hold she had on her bladder, it started as a small trickle that darkened the front of her panties before turning into a full on river as you both could hear it hit the bathtub floor. You smirked as you got up from your chair to kiss Jihyo’s temple, “You did great, Jihyo-ah. I’m so proud of you.”

Mina

“Oh my…”

Mina could barely contain her gasp as she gingerly pressed her hand against her very full bladder. You couldn’t help but hide your smirk behind a glass as Mina glared at you from across the kitchen table. “Y/N, please, this isn’t funny.” The Japanese woman scowled as you feigned innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mina bit back another retort as she crossed her legs to prevent herself from peeing at the kitchen table, you noticed and decided to tease her some more, “Fine, why don’t we go out shopping today, it’s such lovely weather out.” Your suggestion seemed innocent enough as Mina stood from the table, “Okay, just let me go to the bathroom.” You stood with her as you gently directed her towards the front door, “I don’t think so, why don’t we make our trip a little more interesting?” You furthered your point by pressing lightly on her bladder so Mina had to squeeze her thighs together. The Japanese would be lying if she didn’t find the idea intriguing as she decided to play along, “Alright, but you’re paying.” You smiled triumphantly at her, “Deal.”

Dahyun

“Come on, please.”

Your girlfriend whimpered lowly as you pressed onto her swollen bladder, a look of desperation and shock colored her face as a little dribble slipped out. She was quick to push a hand between her legs to stop the leak and hold off from peeing right then and there, “Y/N, oh god.” You smiled evilly before letting up on the pressure and allowed your girlfriend to relax a little. “You know what, I think I’ll let you go right now after all.” Dahyun’s eyes lit up ever so slightly, “Wait, really?” You nodded as you looked her up and down, “Yeah, right here, right now.” Your girlfriend’s face paled immediately as her mouth opened and closed like a fish, “You…you can’t b..be serious.” You shrugged, “Unless you want to wait longer, by all means…” Dahyun sighed, “Fine, I’ll do it.” You smiled internally to yourself as you motioned for her to continue, “Okay.” Dahyun’s face was completely red as your eyes were trained on her as her eyebrows knitted together and you watched in amazement as the front of her jeans started to grow dark as did the inside of pant legs as she peed herself. Your jaw dropped as you watched her, she was panting when she was done as her legs wobbled a little where she stood. You approached her slowly as you gently held her as you led her to the bathroom where you had prepared a bath for her ahead of time, “You’re amazing, Dahyun-ah. Thank you.”

Chaeyoung

I can’t…”

Chaeyoung was practically at her wits end as she sat on your lap with a very full bladder. You didn’t help her in the slightest as you continued priding and pressing against her swollen bladder as she practically shivered on your lap to prevent herself from letting go. “Oh god, Y/N, please. I really can’t.” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at her knowing Chaeyoung was prone to acting her way out of punishments - you knew her limits and knew how far to push her - she hadn’t mentioned her safe word so you continued to egg her on. “You sure about that baby?” You smiled evilly as you moved a hand to play with her clit and the other to press on her bladder every so often, her breath hitching. She let out a mix of a moan and a groan as she grasped at the fabric of your t-shirt, “Y/N, please, I’m really gonna…” Before she could finish you pushed a little too hard on her bladder and her eyes squeezed shut as she suddenly felt herself release all over your lap all at once. You looked at her in shock as you felt the warm liquid trickle down your legs as she buried her face into your neck when she finished, “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I…” You shushed her gently as you stroked her back, placing a kiss on her temple as you hugged her, “It’s okay, Chae, you did such a good job. I’m sorry I pushed a little too hard.” Your girlfriend nuzzled into you, “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it.” You laughed a little, “Me neither.”

Tzuyu

“I’ll get you for this.”

The Taiwanese woman had a light blush covering her face as you handed her another glass of water. Her thighs were pressed tightly together as she tried her best to distract herself from the dull thrums of need emanating from her bladder. You idly sipped a glass of water in front of Tzuyu as she tried to look away from the liquid, her cheeks held a red hue as a whimper emanated from between her lips, “Y/N, I really need to go.” You hummed thoughtfully pretending to actually think about it, “I don’t know, you have been a brat these past few weeks.” Tzuyu took on a defiant look, “No, I haven’t.” She tried to argue, but you just raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, “Is that so?” You let a small smile take over your lips, “Then you wouldn't mind waiting like a good girl, right?” The Taiwanese woman bit the inside of her cheek to stop a snarky remark from coming out as she pressed the palm of her hand between her thighs to prevent herself from peeing, “As you wish, Y/N.”

[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?” 

[orobaxi]

aftercare.

always brings his lover some water & a small snack, & will carry them to the bath if needed. will check your body for any injuries, & will always apologize, even after you insist that it’s fine.

body part.

he loves your face so, so much. from the way that you look at him when he tells you he loves you, to that soft smile you give him when the two of you finish. it’s perfect in every way imaginable, & he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

cum.

his cum is a bit on the thicker side, with a normal clear-to-white color. it’s neither salty or sweet, however, sometimes it has an odd hint of metal.

dominant/submissive.

zhongli’s a softer dominant that has his rougher moments, however, he’ll be the submissive one on occasion. while he enjoys being in control, he enjoys blindly trusting his partner just as much.

experience.

although he’s met many people who have been sexually interested in him, he rarely had the same feelings for them. he’s had sex before, but it’s been a few years since his last encounter. it’s completely understandable for him to be nervous the first few times he has sex again.

favorite position.

any position where he can see your face. zhongli adores being able to see the pleasure he’s giving you, & he loves being able to simply lean in & kiss you at any given moment. he’s particularly fond of having one of your legs over his shoulder, though. & to be fair, it allows for deeper penetration, so it’s quite understandable as to why he enjoys it so much.

goofy.

he sees sex as a serious act, & doesn’t joke around much. during foreplay, there may be a joke here & there, but beyond that? absolutely not. if you were to joke around though, he wouldn’t mind too much.

hair.

trimmed short, & he tries his best to keep it in a neater shape than what it naturally is. his pubic hair does match the hair on the top of his head perfectly, though… so, it might glow, too.

intimacy.

frequent whispers of “i love you,” accompanied by many slow kisses, gentle touches, & words of praise… or making you beg like a common whore for him to fuck you, only to leave you on the edge over & over again. it depends on his mood, really.

jack off.

while he doesn’t masturbate often – he gets embarrassed simply thinking about it – he always does it to the thought of his lover. he’d be absolutely mortified if you were to catch him in the act, though. i don’t think he’d be able to look you in the eyes for a day or so.

kinks.

begging, breeding, creampies, edging, gentle/slow sex, light bondage, lingerie, overstimulation, praise, & “sir/master.” he’d be quite vanilla before exploring these things with his partner, though.

location.

as long as it’s in a private area, he doesn’t care too much about where you two have sex. on a desk or counter? alright, as long as you’re comfortable. on a couch? okay, but let him know if you’d like to go to the bed. in truth, the bed’s his favorite place. i mean, it’s always going to be comfortable, & it’s a relatively easy clean up compared to a desk… he has a record of shoving all the shit on the desk to the floor before fucking you on it, unfortunately.

motivation.

dirty talk, lingerie, & teasing touches are the main things that get him going. he fucking loves lingerie – simply telling him that you have some on under your clothes is enough to get him hot & bothered. the thought of you sitting on the bed in that, waiting for him to walk in, knowing he’ll pounce on you the moment he sees you… fuck, it’s so sexy to him. for dirty talk & teasing touches, however, you’ll have to know what you’re doing in order to get a rise out of him. lightly stroking his thigh, just a little too close to his dick, or gently touching his sides… whispering how bad you want – no, need – him, telling him that you don’t care what he does to you, you just need him to fuck you however he wants… &, to really seal the deal, throw a “sir” or two in there.

no.

he could never agree to hurting you. while spanking may be iffy, slapping & punching are a hard no. there’s also the whole “consensual non-consent” thing, & it’s really because he’s afraid of you forgetting the safeword – & he doesn’t understand the appeal of it. after all, your partner letting you know they really want to have sex is one of the hottest things they could do… in his opinion, at least.

oral.

he prefers receiving over giving, but it’s only out of fear that he’s not truly pleasing you when he preforms oral on you. he knows it’s a bit silly – after all, why would his lover fake it? wouldn’t they rather guide him to where their sweet spots are? still, he can’t help but feel a bit insecure. of course, that won’t stop him from fulfilling your wishes. zhongli just doesn’t know what it is about you that makes him love oral so much. perhaps its the way you look up at him through your eyelashes, with those beautiful, teary eyes of yours. maybe it’s the way you swallow his cum effortlessly… or, maybe it’s the way your throat tightens when you choke on his dick. 

pace.

agonizingly slow for the first few moments, & then he slowly goes faster & faster. he always tries to stay in control of himself, though; you’re going to have to either catch him in a more dominant mood, or rile him up to the point where he doesn’t care about control anymore. pounding inside of you & gripping you so tightly his fingertips leave multicolored bruises – giving you no time to rest before the next thrust.

quickie.

while he doesn’t particularly like them, he may have one with you once in a blue moon. it really depends on how riled up you’ve got him, & if you’re the one who initiates the quickie. otherwise, he’d much rather wait until the two of you got home.

risk.

while he doesn’t like taking extreme risks, he’s up for a some smaller ones here & there. it usually takes a bit of persuasion on your end, though.

stamina.

surprisingly, he can go for hours on end – the only things that stop him are other responsibilities & his lover getting tired. if he has a rare free day on his calendar, though, he might dedicate most of that day to having sex with you. it depends on how riled up he’s gotten.

toys.

doesn’t own any. why would he use them anyway? half the fun is using them on someone else – or so he thinks, at least. if his partner wants toys, though, he’d consider purchasing one or two.

unfair.

he only teases if he’s provoked. once he starts, though, you’ll soon regret your actions. he won’t be bold enough to tease you under a table at the the third round knockout, for example, but he will be bold enough to utter absolutely filthy things into your ear that leave you a blushing, breathless mess… & this man has the nerve to say: “are you alright, love? you feel a bit warm.” with a worried look on his face, every single damn time.

volume.

when he’s dominant, you can expect deep, soft groans & almost inaudible whispers of praise. “you’re adorable when you say my name like that. keep saying it.” “you take my cock so well, huh? you’re doing so good, my love. you’re doing so good.” 

when he’s submissive, though, you’ll receive moans & whimpers that seem to be a bit higher-pitched than normal. he’s perfectly content with biting a pillow & muffling his noises, but then you wouldn’t get to hear him begging. “ahh– please, i need you so bad, my love. please– fuck–!” “it feels so good, it’s– it’s too much–!”

wild card.

fantasizes about his partner degrading him, although, he’s not sure why. perhaps it’s the whole “disrespecting a god” thing.

xray.

considering that he’s taller than average & has a slimmer build, one would assume that he isn’t too toned underneath those clothes of his. however, you’ll be pleasantly surprised once you discover that his looks truly are deceiving. for his cock, though, he’s average length, & far above average in girth. it’s definitely going to hurt if you aren’t adequately prepared beforehand – even if you don’t, though, the pain will fade into pleasure within a few moments.

yearning.

over the years, he’s become amazing at suppressing his desires. on some days, though, his drive seems to skyrocket – he doesn’t understand why, either. those are the days when, as soon as he’s done with his shift at the wangsheng funeral parlor, he heads straight home & either masturbates or has sex with his lover. usually, though, he’s up for it whenever his partner is – that is, unless they’re trying to have sex when he’s doing something important, of course.

zzz.

this man never seems to truly get tired – in fact, he’ll almost always be the first one to get up & start cleaning up any messes the two of you made. he’ll always lay back down & make himself take a quick nap with you after he’s done cleaning, though.

❥  stole this idea & (most of the) alphabet from @rosens-new-dawn​. 💞

[batwritings]

I read bunny reader headcannons earlier and one of them had sweet fundy and reader moments and now I can't stop thinking about C!Fundy x Bunny!reader whether it's Platonic or romantic i just think its adorable

-🦔

Oh this is cute to think about! I got this!!! Enjoy~!

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You were Fundy’s closest friend on the SMP. Everything he did, you supported him in. You were his shoulder to cry on when his dad was absent and his most trusted ally. That’s why, what he felt now was so complex.

You hadn’t been as oblivious as he thought. You noticed the way his tail tucked around himself a bit whenever you laughed with your full chest.You saw the blush that crept across his cheeks when you teased him. It was obvious Fundy liked you as a little more than a friend. Maybe it was due to being a fellow hybrid, but you felt the connection too.

You watched as he approached you the morning before the green festival. Tensions were high, but he knew if he didn’t make a move now, he might not ever. You did your best to keep your welcoming smile lighthearted, offering a small “hey” to the fox hybrid. Your nose twitched a little, catching a different smell from him, something flowery you hadn’t smelled before.

Your ears big bunny ears perked when his hands jerked forward. A bundle of different colored flowers was clutched in his clawed hands. “I-I really like you,” he blurts, avoiding eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but start to laugh at him, the tension of the SMP’s situation melting from your mind.

Fundy looks at you then surprised by your noise. “I like you too Fundy,” you respond, taking the flowers from his grip.

“Really?!” he gapes, tail definitely “not” wagging and ears perking. “You’re not messing with me?”

Again, you laugh at the fox before you. You lean forward and press a kiss to his heated cheek. “Never Fundy.”

[myrulia]

"Are they bothering you love?" - Kokushibou x Reader

.｡.:*✧Synopsis: You are out with your demon of a lover, hiding in plain sight in modern times as you both are simply walking in public to enjoy the night sky. All comes crashing down when a bold male approaches you, yet Kokushibou is there to protect you for he is your one and only.

.｡.:*✧Warning: Stranger with no filter

.｡.:*✧Word count: 1,647

It was such a beautiful night, unlike any other for that fact. After endless amounts of begging to Kokushibou, he finally agreed to going out with you. The moon seemed to radiate brilliantly in the night sky, all the while beaming down on the two of you who had a rather hard time struggling to hide the fact that you were demons. It went as far as Kokushibou closing the top and bottom pair of his eyes just so that the two of you could wander around safely. It was awkward to say the least - since you are used to seeing all 6 of his inscrutable eyes look at you with such love and adoration - but it was something that you adjusted to quickly.

Now walking side by side, out in the wake of the night, you both were simply enjoying each other's company, disregarding anyone else who was also out in the bustling area of the city, for there was multiple fairy lights hanging above the certain street you chose to wander about on that caught your attention, so you basically dragged Kokushibou along with you.

`` It is very pretty this time of night, `` you stated in your usual soothing voice to your much taller lover who was staring bright eyed and bushy tailed at the sheer amount of lights above your heads. It was bright to say the least but it really caught his attention, which made it the experience mean so much more to him. `` I must agree with you, it is beautiful, but I do not think it is as beautiful as you. ``

To Kokushibou, the compliment was normal and he said such words with ease as the poetic statement rolled off his tongue without struggle. You on the other hand was notably having a hard time keeping your composure, for the end of your ears became a scarlet red at his words. `` You believe that wholeheartedly? I mean look around, this place is absolutely beautiful. The sakura trees are even blooming. ``

`` [Y/N], how could you believe I do not actually mean that? You are beautiful and that's that. `` Looking down at your smiling face, the demon could not help but to smile ever so slightly in return at your flushed ears. He knew just what to say at just the right time to make you a flustered mess in a matter of seconds. He really did have a way with words.

Time seemed to fly by effortlessly, due to the both of you spending most of it window shopping and actually entering the multiple ones available for entering. Courtesy of your behavior, you dragged Kokushibou along with you into a plethora of stores that had all types of clothes to choose from. It was mainly due to the fact that you have never seen him smile this much before when the both of you are out. Usually he does do a pretty good job of keeping up a stoic expression, but this time, watching him struggle was adorable.

In a particular men's clothing store, you had your demon of a lover try on many different styles and options that you picked out yourself. It was almost like a mini fashion show with how much you really made him wear - but the Upper Moon One could not complain one bit. Your smile itself never faltered and so his resisted doing the same. Seeing you so cheerful just made him want to make sure you never stopped, even if it meant embarrassing a big man like himself in public by wearing a few questionable items of clothing.

After your little fashion montage, you both exited the store once the less than approachable store manager seemed to become aggravated with how you only tried on things instead of buying them. Just as you were finishing letting out a small giggle in reaction to the chain of events that occurred, you eyed a particular shop that seemed to have colorful clouds on a stick. What were they? You had no idea.

`` Cotton candy, `` you heard a testosterone-heavy voice say. You knew all too well who it was so looking up at Kokushibou, you eyed his gaze, but to your surprise he was looking at the same colorful clouds you were also looking at. `` Lets try it then! ``

And with that, you grabbed his hand, intertwining your much smaller fingers with his and, and soon enough the both of you were now entering the store with bright eyes, even brighter than earlier. You looked around hurriedly, trying to see what others in the store were doing so you could understand what you are supposed to do with the cloud-looking objects. Kokushibou unfortunately looked just as confused as you, who eyed anyone else in the store until it finally hit him - and his senses for that matter.

`` Love, "cotton candy" is a food. You are supposed to eat it, `` he said in a calm manner, all the while pointing at a certain mother and her son indulging in the sweet smelling treat. `` Then I guess we are trying something new..~ ``

Pulling out your wallet, you walk up to the counter and swiftly paid for the sweet treats you yourself was definitely excited about trying. The sweet smell flooded your nose and it was becoming unbearable, so turning around, you are met with the shocking sight of Kokushibou already holding a [F/C] one and a purple one. He held an obvious smile on your face that really allowed you to appreciate how handsome he looked when he wore his emotions on his sleeve. `` You seem eager to try them, `` you teased while grabbing the stick that held up the cotton candy from him. 

`` How could I not? It smells wonderful. `` Now having your sweet treats in hand, you both exited the candy shop, now being back on the bustling street that had many pedestrians who looked just as happy as the next person. It was refreshing to say the least, being out with the one you love the most and being able to enjoy your time together. It felt utterly amazing.

`` Lets bite at the same time. 3, 2, 1- `` as soon as you hit one, Kokushibou pulled off a chunk of the cotton candy and placed it inside his mouth, allowing the once soft substance to melt on his taste buds and overflood his senses once more. He lets out a surprised hum of satisfaction and turned to you taking a rather large bite out of the cotton candy instead of pulling a piece off. Your eyes doubled in size at how it melted inside your mouth, the sugar taking over on your tongue, and so you also let out a hum. `` It is delicious! Let me try yours! ``

Lowering his arm, you grab a piece from Kokushibou's cotton candy and stuff it into your mouth as well, letting out another content hum that made your husband smile. `` Enjoying yourself? `` He teased.

`` Yes indeed I am!- ``

`` I can make you enjoy yourself in other ways. ``

Your eyes left from Kokushibou's to where the mysterious voice originated from. Looking wide eyed, you swallow a hard lump that clogged your esophagus as you tilt your head to the side, being obviously confused with what you just heard. `` Excuse me? ``

`` Aside from being sexy, what else do you do for a living? We might have the same profession. ``

At that point your eyes actually tripled in size at the boldness of this complete stranger. To even think someone would have the audacity and mindset to do such things really ticked you off, so letting out an obviously sarcastic laugh, you were about to say something until he spoke up once more. `` Come on beautiful there's no need to say anything. How about we go on a date here? ``

You felt sick to your stomach and before you could properly react, Kokushibou's hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you moderately behind his body, giving you his cotton candy afterwards. He was now standing in between you and the random stranger who damn near ruined your date. Kokushibou is both obviously tall and intimidating, and being 6'3 does have its perks - especially in situations like now. Although, he did have to lean down, just a bit, so he could properly speak to the douche bag. 

`` Are they bothering you, love? `` He spoke in that same aggressive tone that sent shivers down your spine with just how heavy and deep it was. You peaked from behind your lover's shoulder to really see what was going on, and to your surprise the male who was previously doing a horrible job and hitting on you now had his eyes damn near pop out of his socket. `` Yes, they are actually. ``

Kokushibou now changed his smiling expression to a more darker one, now having his 3 pairs of eyes open only for the double bag to see. He leaned forward and that caused for the stranger to step back, huffing out and crossing his arms. `` Who the hell are you? ``

`` This beautiful woman's husband, `` and that was all that came from his lips before Kokushibou took another step forward, and just like that the stranger is suddenly running in the other direction. It took every nerve and fibre in your being not to laugh at the situation that just unfolded and ended just like that, and so stepping out from behind your husband who hid his other two pairs of eyes once more, you look up at his expression once he is finally standing up tall and proud. `` Well thank you darling..~ ``

`` Do not say it in that tone or I will make you thankful for another thing in a few seconds, `` Kokushibou teased back while grabbing his cotton candy from your hand, going back to indulging in yet another piece as you two continued your walk down the bustling street.

`` You enjoyed that, didn't you? ``

`` How could I not? I had to tell him you are mine, and mine alone. ``

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Fun fact; I looked up pick-up lines to use🏃🏾‍♀️

[h2bakugou]

Hey! i just wanted to say that i love your writing. So this may be a little complicated if thats okay but i had cancer when i was younger and i would like to see if you could write about kirishima and bakugo (separately) crush being hit by a quirk that makes them younger again or something like that and them seeing their crush in a horrible state like they cant walk anymore . IM SORRY if this is complicated you dont have to do bakugo if its too much.

a/n: hi! tysm <3!! of course, i hope you're doing well hun !! if there's anything you need me to change/edit within this please let me know!!

headcanon: them reacting to their s/o being hit by a quirk that makes them the age when they were sick

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, angst

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s been a tough day on the field, especially with a villain attack appearing from seemingly nowhere. It’s caused a mess, and everyone’s on edge.

Most noticeable though is Bakugou. You’re fighting one on one with this villain and he doesn’t doubt your abilities by any means, but you’re worn down and tired, your movements are slower, you’re starting to reach your limit.

And all it takes is one hit from this nameless villain’s quirk and you’re down for the count.

Bakugou’s tired of fending off goons and dashes over to you, taking down the villain to the best of his ability.

But what he doesn’t expect is when he turns back to you, instead of seeing you, he sees the pile of your clothes covering a much smaller version of you.

You’ve shrunk?

No, you’ve gotten younger. 

Just barely lifting your head, you start to cough. 

“Shit, hey get someone over here!” Bakugou shouts to one of the other students, hoping an adult could rush over and try and help-not that he needed it, but he was worried.

It wasn’t long before another pro hero was wrapping your younger self up in your clothes.

If Bakugou had to guess, he’d say you were around five to eight years old.

You sat in a hospital bed for a few hours before Aizawa finally arrived, noticeably worried about the state you were in. You didn’t even remember the people standing around you.

“They’re in critical condition. If this age regression quirk has sent their body back in time, we’re going to be in a bit of hurry to get them back to their normal state. They’ve had a history of medical concerns.”

Bakugou has to step out of the room, supported by Kirishima and Kaminari as he tries not to seem like he’s heavily affected by the state your in.

“They’re going to be fine, if it’s just some sort of temporary affect, they’ll be back to their healthy old self soon!” Kaminari tries to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t seem to help.

When you’re released from the hospital to return back to campus, you’re placed under surveillance.

You’re much younger now, and you can barely walk, it’s tearing everyone apart. All of your friends stop by whenever they can, trying to see if you remember them which usually never works.

Bakugou stops by often as well, normally at night when no one else comes around.

He talks about little things like All Might and always brings in his little toy figurines that he’d swore he’d never show anyone.

You laugh and smile, waving them around making all sorts of noises all while ignoring the fact that Bakugou is nearly in tears at the sight of you.

The effects last two weeks. It’s the longest two weeks of everyone’s lives, most importantly Bakugou’s.

When you wake up and see Bakugou sound asleep beside you, his head laying on the medical bed you’d been sleeping in for the past two weeks, you’re confused.

“Hey, Katsu’?” You ruffle his blonde hair and he’s up instantly.

He’s embracing you in the tightest hug known to man, surely putting All Might’s to shame.

Kissing you too, he can’t stop himself from holding you and mumbling about how worried he was about and how he’ll never let something like that happen to you again.

“I never dabbled in my past much, but I’m doing much better now, I’m sorry I gave you a scare.” You rub his cheek, wiping away a few rare tears that fall from his crimson eyes.

“I love you so fuckin’ much.” He utters, his lips pointing upward in a smile.

“I love you too.”

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

The fight is surely rigged. There’s no way you’re going to win, not alone anyway. 

Kirishima is making his way to you as fast as he can, but when he gets to you it’s far too late.

You’re cowering before him, your costume baggy on your visibly smaller and weaker frame, tears pouring from your eyes as your body strains to stand upright.

The villain is gone, but not too far gone that they don’t get captured by patrolling pros on the scene.

Rushing you to the nearest hospital to undergo some sort of evaluation, all Kirishima can do in the meantime is wait alongside Kaminari, Mina, Sero, and even a slightly less angry Bakugou.

When the nurse returns to explain your situation, Kirishima is mortified.

Refusing to leave your side until he’s forced to by Mina to take care of himself because it’s what you’d tell him to do, all he can do is wait and hope that you’ll get better.

You can’t walk without having someone help you, and the worst part is, you don’t even recognize him.

Kaminari takes the role of making you smile and laugh while Kirishima adds throws in random memories turned into stories hoping it’ll jog some part of your memory connected to how old you actually are.

But nothing seems to work and all you can do is sit in wonder as he tells you about how present-pre age regression quirk you is really super awesome.

After being scolded by Mina on day one, Kirishima manages to take care of himself, but he spends most if not all of his free time with you. 

In a way it’s domestic, imagining the possible inevitability of raising a family with you, you’d always jokingly said he was great with kids.

Taking care of you is nice, he enjoys doing it now, buying you little gifts, helping you get something off a high shelf or just being a gentleman for you.

Holding the door for you, carrying your bags even when you yell at him not to and he swears a part of you has been inspired by Bakugou.

After the first week, he begins to get settled in, thinking if this is going to last a while, he wants to help however he can.

Aizawa ushers him to pay attention to studies and that you’re strong enough to power through this, and he understands, he believes wholeheartedly you are.

But part of him is sort of upset. He’d never known that you used to be like this. He hoped when it was all over you could explain.

And sure enough, after two weeks, you wake up, as if those two weeks had never happened.

You don’t seem to have much recollection of the two weeks, only a few hours on the last day seem to make it through to you.

Kirishima greets you with a hug and thousands of kisses.

He doesn’t let you go for hours, weeping into your embrace as he begs you to never scare him like that again.

You console him all while telling him about your past and the history of your medical condition and he understands. He’s thankful you’re where you are now, and he’s so happy to see back to your normal self again after those two weeks.

“I stayed with you as much as you could.” Kirishima whispers, kissing your cheek. Kaminari lifts his head up and starts laughing.

“Yeah, he was so worried about you. You’ve got yourself a keeper.” He jokes, making Kirishima’s cheeks match shades with his hair.

“I love you.” You mumble against his skin, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too.”

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Years and years (part 1/2) - Draco Malfoy (smut + fluff)

Summary: A walk through the years of your relationship with Draco, all the ups and downs, all the passion and al the love in one story <3

Includes: a LOOOT of SMUT 18+!! more parts of smut! , also a LOT of fluffy stuff and a little bit of angst, dad!draco at the end.

THIS STORY WILL HAVE 2 PARTS!

Warnings for THIS PART: Umbridge her quill , sad Draco, the war and its injuries, alcohol, let's pretend they are already old enough for everything!!!!, masturbation, very dirty thoughts, fingering and oral (fem receiving)

3,2k words

September 1991

Y/n was nervous. It was her first year going to Hogwarts. The excitement tickling inside of her tummy was pleasant and horrible at the same time.

The castle was right in front of her, it was astonishing. Lots of other kids around her age were walking to the boats. A hard beat on y/n's shoulder made her almost fall into the ground.

"Get out of my way" she heard a little blond boy say. His hair was blonde and ashy and his eyes were like ice. Y/n already hated him. "Prick" was the only thing she answered when she quickly walked away. It made an anger boil inside the little bully. Draco already hated her too. Nobody walks in his way on the first day of school, the day he looked forward to for already 11 years. AND how dare she? Talking to him like that?

March 1995

Draco was bored. He was sitting next to the window, the only amusing thing was the view outside. It was snowing in march. Not that common for this time of the year. He messed a little with the badge on his robe, the badge Umbridge gave him. He was proud of himself. No actually he wasn't, he was just delighted with the fact that his father was going to be proud. A big plus was the fact that those stupid other houses were finally put in their place.

Y/n came out of Umbridge her office. Relieved. Finally, her tears could come out. She was holding them in for so long now. The burning sensation on her arm wasn't the only reason. Umbridge hated her. She abused her mentally and physically.

Tears rolled down her cheeks like a river, finally coming out after so long. And like it couldn't get any worse Draco Malfoy was right in front of her, and he saw her. He saw her tears and he heard her sobs.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, not this time, please" y/n begged, not even embarrassed about how pathetic it looked.

Y/n and Draco had a weird history. From the first day they met until now. It was an abnormal relationship. Of course y/n hated him like everyone else hates Draco Malfoy. And of course he hated her like Draco Malfoy hated everyone.

But there was this tension, an unexplainable one, the both of them never understood.

"What happened?" Draco asked by y/n her surprise.

"I- uh- I, Umbridge, she.." y/n stuttered confused while unconsciously rubbing her arm where Umbridge had harmed her.

Draco automatically looked at it and had a thoughtful look on his face. Then he saw the wound on her arm 'blood traitor'.

Without thinking he grabbed her arm, a shock of concern went through his body. He didn't know what happened to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked concerned.

Y/n was in shock, not knowing what to say. But she wasn't the only one confused because of his sudden concern, Draco was too. It was the first time he realized how vulnerable she was. He had the sudden urge to take care of her, to make sure she was okay.

It went as fast as his first time riding a broom. Out of the blue it was like his mission to make sure she was okay, to make sure she was safe. Even though he still had that primitive hate towards her.

"Sit down, I might know something" he promised.

Y/n sat down next to him, a tear still running down her cheek.

"Episkey" Draco whispered carefully with a wave of his dark colored wand. With his other hand he held her arm still. The soft and warm touch surprised her. She imagined them cold and harsh but his fingers were the opposite. Even his eyes were soft now, the cold grey was a little more warm and blue now.

The cuts in her arm healed. Not completely, you could still see a scar, but it didn't hurt any more. "Wow, thank you Draco" she whispered with a smile. For a moment Draco's eyes softened and he felt his body warm up when she said his first name. It was an unknown feeling to the Slytherin boy.

A moment of silence followed when they looked in each others eyes. But then they realized he was still holding her hand. They both let go awkwardly and the moment was over. Leaving both of them confused.

April 1995

Y/n was already getting tipsy. She poured another shot of firewhisky down her throat while laughing with Hermione. The music at the party was loud and made y/n even more dizzy.

"Mione, guess who was nice to me today, you'll never guess" I mumbled. Hermione was of course, taking this seriously. So she kept thinking and thinking, leaving y/n impatient. "Okay I'll just say it, it was Malfoy" she tells her eventually.

"The Draco Malfoy?" she mouthed confused. Y/n nodded. "He healed my arm after Umbridge's detention" y/n confirmed. Hermione's mouth hung open in response.

What y/n didn't know was that Draco was watching her from a distance, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. He noticed how pretty she actually was. He spent the past 5 years despising the girl. From the day she called him 'a prick' until now, until he suddenly had this weird feeling. She looked hot, y/n was sexy. She had a nice ass, Draco noticed. He was a little drunk and that always made him horny.

"Okay, y/n. Believe it or not but Draco is checking you out" Hermione told y/n. She immediately turned around and saw Draco looking straight into her eyes now.

"I'm going to say hi, I think he wants me " y/n boasted full with confidence because of the alcohol. Draco was still watching her when she strode up to him. She stopped right in front of him and looked him up and down.

"Well well Draco Malfoy, you were checking me out, weren't you? You like my new dress?" she joked drunkly.

"You're drunk" Draco laughed. It made y/n furrow her eyebrows.

"I think you're drunk because you're actually laughing!" she answered mocking him. Draco smiled and took a closer look at the girl in the party lights. He never noticed her y/e/c eyes and her pretty lips. Oh how they would look so perfect wrapped around his co-

"LET'S DANCE!!!" y/n screamed, cutting off his daydreams.

Draco did something very surprising and followed her to the dance floor. Y/n swayed her hips to the music seductively, moving very very close to Draco. Of course she did that on purpose but she didn't want Draco to know.

When y/n turned around and rubbed her ass against his clothed cock, Draco was afraid he would cum in his pants already. He was used to be dancing like this at parties with girls, but this felt different. Draco tried to convince himself this was just because he was extra horny, but deep down he knew it was because of the girl in front of him.

Without thinking Draco turned her around again. He pressed y/n close to him and before he knew it their lips were pressed against each other.

Her soft lips moved slowly against his. Y/n grabbed his neck and pulled on his hair softly while Draco pushed her hips closer.

The kiss was heated and full of passion. A soft moan escaped her lips. Draco's erection appeared in his pants. Suddenly the boy realized the effect y/n had on him.

He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't ruin the reputation he worked on for years! So he searched all his willpower and pushed her away.

"What are you doing, stupid girl!" he screamed.

Y/n was surprised and a look full of hurt appeared on her face.

-

That night Draco was still horny. The mix of emotions was unbearable.

He didn't want to, but he had to.

So he pulled his pants down slowly, a big sigh left his mouth when his erection finally came free. Draco had never been this horny, especially not after hurting someone. Because he did hurt y/n, he knew that. But eventually this was normal, she wouldn't mind that much... She's used to him being like that. At least that's what Draco thought.

So he wiped the precum from is tip and sighed. Draco started to pump very slowly, a grunt of relief left his mouth.

He tried to come up with something else in his head, he tried really really hard. But the only thing that came up was how y/n danced against him, how sexy she was. He thought about her beautiful lips and how perfect they felt on his.

He imagined how it would feel if she was in front of him, pumping him slowly, with her innocent eyes locked with his. How her eyes wouldn't be leaving his, looking so so desperate for him.

He imagined how she then would put her mouth around his cock. Draco started to pump faster and faster. Because of his drunk state it felt almost real. Her warm pretty mouth...

Draco grunted loudly now, imagining how he would slap that ass of her, how he would completely destroy the girl. A soft moan left his mouth, he was imagining her boobs now. How they would bounce right in front of him.

His stomach began to tingle more and more. He was cumming very soon. His hips started to buck op when he imagined how he would just pound into her mercilessly. It was almost like he could hear her pretty moans and screams.

And with one last pump he came. Hard. Moaning her name when his head fell backwards.

He just laid there for a moment. Panting very loudly. He never came that hard.

Fuck Draco Malfoy, what's wrong with you, he thought.

November 1996

Being in 6th year for almost 3 months now, y/n and Draco only saw each other from a distance in the great hall. The only interaction they had were little glances and a lot of staring.

Y/n was still mad. How could that stupid fucking Slytherin boy just kiss her and talk to her like that and then leave and get mad?!

It was stupid.

It was stupid how sometimes their eyes met during dinner and how it made their hearts beat like crazy.

It was stupid how they still thought about each other every day because of just one stupid kiss.

February 1996

5 months later they finally talked again. Their anger towards each other was mostly gone now. It was time to call a truce now.

Y/n decided it had been enough of all this silliness. So when she bumped into Draco she decided to finally talk to him.

"Who do we have here" she tried sounding polite and playful.

"Hey" Draco said. It was now that y/n saw how tired he looked. All these months they had non-verbal conversations from a distance, but now she really saw him and how terrible he looked, almost ill.

"Draco, are you okay?" was the first question that came up in her mind to say.

Draco just nodded. The last thing he wanted was to show her how terrible he felt. His task, becoming a death eater,...

So he just decided to nod and walk away.

"Oh and sorry about getting mad at you last year" he said from a distance when he quickly walked away.

It left y/n worried and surprised. He apologized?

June 5, 1996

It was the last month of the school year. Y/n heard sobs when she walked past the prefects bathroom. Never had sobs been so recognizable. It was Draco. She knew that immediately. So she didn't hesitate to walk inside the bathroom.

Draco and y/n had been talking last months after all. What you can call talking. It were silly little talks and her friends even judged her for doing it. But the talks didn't really represent that much. Draco felt too bad and she wanted to ask what was going on but she couldn't.

The sight broke her heart. Draco looked at her with fearful eyes.

"Draco" y/n gasped "come here" was the only thing she said. The right words didn't come up in her mind so she just stepped closer to him.

She grabbed his back and pushed him in for a hug. Draco didn't fight it but also didn't hug back. He didn't know what to do. Only his mother hugged him. But y/n started to stroke his back and her smell was so comforting.

"It's okay Dray, you're safe with me" she whispered.

Draco felt calm now. After all those months he finally felt good. So he hugged her back and started to cry again.

"Yes Draco, you can let it al go now" she promised when Draco kept crying harder en harder finally feeling free and safe to let go.

They stayed like that for a while. When Draco calmed down completely he explained her everything and y/n listened. They talked for hours. He told y/n it was his birthday and no one said happy birthday to him today. After all the serious talk they even talked about more fun stuff.

Draco was happy. He hasn't been in years.

June 31, 1996

Believe it or not, but y/n was laying in Draco's bed. Summer was there and everyone was packing to go home for the break.

Y/n has been Draco's girlfriend for a few weeks now. It was a secret. She secretly came to his dorm every night and sometimes she stayed to sleep in his arms.

Y/n got to know the other side of Draco, a part she actually loved.

Draco got to know his own new side and still tried and struggled with being in a relationship now. But he was so so so in love, he realized that now.

His heart fluttered in his chest again when y/n snuggled her nose deeper into his shoulder, trying to be closer to him than before. She laid on him with the half of her body and stroked his arm lightly.

"So we're not going to see each other this summer?" she asked.

"We'll figure it out, I promise we'll see each other" Draco smiled while stroking her hair, making y/n shiver a little.

Y/n stroked up and down his chest now. "I want to try something before we leave, I want to have sex" she suddenly said.

"What?" Draco answered a little bit shocked. Not that he didn't want it he was just surprised.

"If-if.. if you don't want to it's okay, I don't know how experienced you are and..." y/n stuttered.

Draco laughed a little at the thought. She thought he didn't want this? He wanted this for so so so long now. "I want to, but we only have 15 minutes till the train leaves. And.. are you... are.. have you ever had sex before?" he asked getting nervous now.

"No, but I want you to take my virginity, did you do it before?" she asked interested.

"I'm not a virgin. No. But, you are, I don't want you to lose your virginity when we're rushed. We'll see each other this summer and I'll make it perfect, okay?" Draco assured her.

God how he wanted to fuck her there and then, destroy his little innocent girlfriend. But not when it's rushed.

Y/n looked disappointed and she really really was. It took her a lot of courage to ask this.

So Draco had an idea.

"But, I can do something else, if you trust me" he smiled while stroking under her skirt, going closer and closer to her pussy.

"You said we have only 15 minutes" she whispered with flushed cheeks.

"I can make you cum in less than that" Draco promised. Y/n bit her lip and nodded.

He started slowly stroking her clothed pussy now, making y/n gasp a little. Y/n still laid partly on him and her hand was on his chest. Draco had a perfect view on her face and she was so close, it was the perfect position.

"Do you touch yourself?" he asked while pushing her panties down very slowly, lightly touching her pussy now.

Y/n nodded while biting her lip to hold in the moans.

"You don't have to be shy princess, you can let it all out for me, okay? Now tell me what you think when you touch yourself" Draco asked huskily while drawing little circles on her clit now.

A soft moan left y/n her lips and her cheeks were already flushed. Her pussy already wetter than ever.

"I- I think about you, how you would touch me" she moaned. Draco answered with a soft moan too, not able to hold it in. He imagined how she would be thinking of him while pleasuring herself, and moaning his name.

He entered his finger slowly. Y/n gasped. "Draco" she moaned when he started to pump into her softly.

"Good girl" he praised.

"Go faster Dray, it feels so good" y/n moans.

Draco did what she told him and started to pump faster while adding another finger. "You're so tight for me baby, I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock this summer when I fuck you so hard" Draco grunts.

Y/n was a moaning mess now. His name left her mouth multiple times. Something he would remember for ever.

"God you're so fucking sexy y/n" he moaned. Draco was surprised how turned on this made him.

And then Draco stopped and pulled his fingers out.

"What are you doing?" she asked when Draco left her side.

"Can I do this?" he asked when going down with his mouth now very close to her pussy.

Y/n nodded eagerly.

Draco attached his soft lips to her clit, sucking on it gently. She was already very sensitive from before so a loud moan came out.

Draco started to suck harder and moaned on her pussy, sending vibrations that went through her whole body. Y/n automatically grabbed his hair and pulled harder than she meant to.

Draco absolutely loved it. It was the hottest thing ever to him, the way she moaned and how she pulled his hair but pushed him closer at the same time.

"I- I think I'm cumming Dray" she gasped.

"Yes, my good girl, cum for me" he whispered.

A loud moan of his name filled the room and her eyes scrunched shut. Y/n panted loudly. "God I think I saw the stars" she breathed.

Draco chuckled and came back up to her pulling her close to him like before. "Told you I could do it in less than 15 minutes" he joked.

"I'm going to miss you Draco" y/n said more serious now with a big frown.

"Me too. But we'll see each other again soon, I promise. I'll be showing you more than just the stars then, princess" he promised her, his heart full of love and joy. He placed a little kiss on her head.

She made a new Draco Malfoy come alive, but what they didn't know yet, is that it will get much much more difficult in the future...

❀

Okay so part 2 will have more (and better) smut in it, like promised, if you want the be tagged in it you can just fill in my taglist

Thanks for reading loves x

new taglist: @rudypankowisdaddy

[yoshkeii]

"𝙵𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜"

࿐ character(s): Daichi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane

࿐ genre: sfw, soft/fluff

࿐ type: (au) headcanons

࿐ requested by: anon

⌦ boyfriend male!reader (he/him)

⌦ genshin impact x haikyuu!!, modern settings

⌦ ‘can i request an au headcanon (basically genshin impact x haikyuu!!, modern settings, but the vision bearers are rarer than post traveler time and there's still spiral abyss where vision bearers help discovering new information and artifacts, and getting paid from their country for that) So, daichi and asahi's boyfriend(a vision bearer, which element is up to you to decide.)(also separetly) reacts that their boyfriend just give them an old flower artifact that he found that reminds male!reader of his boyfriend‘

A/N: an interesting concept !! thank you for requesting, im not good with reactions but- ihopethisisokay,, i dont think i did well on this,, khai writes hcs weirdly pt. who fucking knows.

asahi azumane’s give flower: wanderer’s troupe or viridescent venerer

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒:

》 staring at the rosy-red petaled flower that was supposedly made into a brooch, a piece missing that would make the item stay on the wearer. your eyes glossed over the item, identifying cracks and scratches on the metallic bronze pieces that accompanied the ordinary looking flower, that somehow was in one piece. just... slightly off-colored. before jumping as your name was called by another vision-bearer with two others by the way towards the exit of the Abyss floor, you began to hurry over to them as you gently slid the “Gladiator’s Nostalgia” into your pouch. the name you had read before within a dusty journal, remembering it so clearly with a much vibrant image than the real one you had now. but it oh, so reminded you of your beloved boyfriend, the one waiting for you at your shared home. 《

→ Daichi didn’t know he would be dating a vision-bearer, no one would’ve thought of a thing really. they were such a rare sight to see out in public- especially in the modern days. but that only just added to the many surprises you came home with after your days of working in the “Spiral Abyss” is what they call it.

→ giving him the faded-out red flower as soon as you walked through the front door, a bright smile across your face, was a sight he would never get tired of. except the slight worriedness would built up seeing scratches n bruises along your skin the more he stared...

→ eventually leading him to treating your injuries properly, maybe a slight scold or lecture here and there-

→ “Love, you know you have to be careful. Especially with fire! I know you have a Pyro vision, but that doesn’t mean mess around- and play with fire itself- You aren’t immune to it.” “..even worse that you tried using your abilities to cook..”

→ “He-hey it was a one time thing-!! and I was really curious ‘Muraaa..” you whined, wincing and pulling your face away with a pout as Daichi pressed a cotton swab onto the cut along your cheek.

→ “Yeah yeah, lil’ember.” He muttered the nickname, swiping a thumb over the bandaid to cover the cut. “..there you are done, now go get a change of clothes dirty boy- I have to put the first aid stuff away.”

→ seeing you disappear pass the door frame of your shared room, he went back to pack and close the first aid kit. before his eyes wandered towards the flower you had given him earlier, which was just idly sitting there on the counter. Daichi picked up the flower holding it gently in his palms, feeling the petals with his free hand.

→ he stared at the flower for a long moment, observing the petals before noticing the scratches on the metal pieces attached to the brooch. he smile gently, beginning to realize this was a gift to him, a gift that you gave and probably risked your life to nag. 

→ sighing deeply at the thought of you getting hurt, knowing how clumsy you can be, he went off to the shared room where you would be. just to make sure you dont... do something stupid.

→ “Y/N?” Daichi had softly called out, seeing your head peek out from the closet as you slid a shirt on. he motioned his hands upwards a little, still holding the faded-brooch in his palms. 

→ “Oh! The Gladiator’s Nostalgia? The flower, do you like it??” the way you had ecstatically replied, he could imagine a puppy’s tail wagging so fast. your eyes shimmering as you awaited his answer.

→ “I love it, ember, it was really nice of you to give it to me.” “..although I hope you didn’t get hurt too much... to achieve it. I bet this was hard to get-” He spoke softly, genuine about the words slipping through his lips.

→ “Well actually... not really-” seeing Daichi look at you in confusion, “..I’ve seen that artifact set a lot on my runs with my team, but are often- broken’n’damaged. So I- I could never give you one-” “There’s also different ones apart of the same set for yours!! I might try to collect the others for you... or more.. flowers..”

→ “Wa-wait-,, there’s more-?” he longed on his question, before he could let out another word he noticed how you started to ramble. talking about interesting details of the items you could get him on your adventures and battles, and all he did was listen. settling down on the edge of the bed while you went on.

→ you were so passionate with your job, what you were doing as a vision-bearer. it’s what he liked about you, or well... loved about you. although he wonder if every Vision-bearer were the same, he’d still take you, . date you, just as who you are. with, or without a vision. and ofc he will keep an eye on what gifts you decide to give him in the mere future.

𝙰𝚜𝚊𝚑𝚒:

》 being an Anemo Vision bearer, your able to adapt and flow with whatever could come your way. making elements spread across the battlefield with one set of moves or to crowd-control them into one spot for the others to strike the unfortunate foes. time to time you would stumble upon the “Viridescent Venerer” set in the fallen loot of opponents or the scuffed chests that were stashed at the end of battles. they looked so different than most artifacts, especially the flowers. common artifacts were genuine real flowers, making them have the same aspect as any other flower, withering and fading into nothing but dull-bland colors. but the Viridescent Venerer’s flower did not, it was just a white wild flower that used to cover the earth. and it has not withered one bit, and still gives off an exquisite fragrance you noticed as the times you ran by it... and well of course noticed it as the scent was what you usually smelled since you had one as part of your outfit. 《

→ Asahi had always pointed out the flower on your outfit, the “In Remembrance of Viridescent Fields“ is what the books would title it, but in short you just called it the Viridescent Venerer flower or just... Viridescent for Asahi’s sake.

→ he had always complimented on how it looked beautiful and pretty, especially when his beloved boyfriend is wearing it. 

→ as days of works and floors of the Spiral Abyss, you managed to find a new piece of the Viridescent to use. unlike discarding the one you currently you had, you had an idea that came into mind, finding you sliding the newer artifact into your bag before leaving off to home. a smile brought onto your face.

→ now cuddling in each others presence, you both chatted about your days. already cleaned yourself up from your days works. hand in hand with soft laughter erupting from both of you, before it died off into comfortable silence.

→ “Azumane, love?” you simply called out, knowing you caught his attention instantly as you felt movement from him. “You certainly like the flower on my fit.”

→ “Well it really is- pretty. Like knowing how regular and most flowers wilt and wither- That one hasn’t! An-And I believe its the same one you wore the day we met too-” he noted.

→ to only be surprised at his memory of these types of things, you laughed- making him startled and a bit embarrassed.

→ “You sure have quite the memory, to even remember that image? I’m impressed, so I assume... it has caught your eye since the start? Just like I was to your own vision~” you cooed, getting up from his grasps before disappearing pass a corner of a wall.

→ confusion expressed on Asahi’s face, sitting up from his position on the couch before his eyes caught the glimpse of the Viridescent in your hand.

→ sitting on the edge of the couch, you motioned the flower towards him, a gentle smile across your face.

→ “I would simply like you to have mine then, it is quite old- and worn from the times I’ve had it through my lifetime. But I think it’ll be a nice gift from me to you.”

→ hearing the words being slipped passed your mouth, he felt tears daring to fall from his eyes- Asahi did not know why. but imagining keeping the Viridescent you had for who knew how long-

→ it would be something he would cherish, something he wouldnt let go.

→ exchanging gentle kisses across your face in exchange, trying his best not to cry the joy. because it was so touching- so simple yet so poetic to give. he didn’t think he deserved one.

→ and from that afternoon, Asahi had kept it. he had kept it safe and sound, bringing it with him whenever you were never there. so he had something to calm him down in anxious moments. he had a memory of you in a flower that would never wither.

[sexy-bee-juice]

which hq boys would let you paint their nails

This is the first time I’ve written something on here so feedback is welcome <333

Im trying hc’s so-

KARASUNO

Hinata

- He would. 

- 10/10 would recommend.

- He would stare at you for a minute and be like, “what?” then you would show him the bottle of nail polish and he would just U N D E R S T A N D

- He would definitely flaunt it to his team. would be so proud.

- Honestly doesn't care about the color, just wants his nails DONE.

- Like, you could be the worst at applying it and get it all over his cuticles and fingers and smudge it everywhere, but he will still love how you did it . It doesn't even have to be all fancy with a design or something or rhinestones he will still love it.

- But...

-Please do the rhinestones and designs. H e will literally be so happy. Smack a volleyball or a dumpling design on those nails and he will literally cry. Rhinestones? He will carry around a little flashlight and shine it on the stones to see them sparkle.

- He just wants to do it and maybe have matching nails with you.

- Don't even ask he’ll do it.

Tsukishima

-No. NopE.

-Im sorry bby, but he will not.

- Would stare at you for a whole of two seconds and say no then go back to whatever the heck this man was doing

- Might consider it if you chose a flat or rlly subtle color like...grey. or white.

-Boring. maybe if you included dinosaurs.

-or do it when he’s sleeping. and put some dinos on it.

-Will be mad at first, but will eventually get used to it.

- Only sneak attacks will get this man to accept it.

-Will ask you to remove it if he needs to go somewhere.

Sugawara

-HE WILL BE SO HAPPY TO DO IT.

- PROBABLY WALKS IN ON YOU PAINTING YOUR NAILS ALONE AND WILL ASK IF YOU CAN DO HIS.

- 1000/10 would recommend

- Won’t flaunt it, but will totally be proud to tell everyone why his nails are painted.

-Probably get everyone else to get their nails painted by you as well.

- Gets you to paint his and the rest of the teams nails before every big match. team colors.

- Whenever he goes shopping with you low-key looks for new nail polish and buys it when you aint lookin’.

- Probably has a whole variety of slightly different shades of the teams colors.

- Isnt too flashy so might not want rhinestones or sparkles, but will definetely love any little chibi designs you put on.

- Especially the animals. Give him a giraffe and he will be so i love with them, he will be staring at his nails the whole time.

- Will be so happy he asked the first time.

Asahi 

-Will definitely be shy at first. 

-If you ask him he will be all blushy and stuttery, but will agree.

- But after you finish, he will definitely end up smudging it and ruining anything you put on it.

- Designs? Gone. Ruined.

-Rhinestones? Fell off. never to be seen again.

-Glitter? Mess. Don't even ask.

- Will apologize about a million times and might even let you fix them, and will not move an inch until you tell him to move.

- Will basically be a ragdoll when it comes to you doing his nails, but will ask you to get the. STUFF. OFF. WHEN HE LEAVES.

-Otherwise is totally open about whatever. maybe makeovers and stuff is welcome, but only after a lot of bribing and begging.

Sawamura

-OMG

-YES.

-DONT EVEN ASK

-”Daichi?” You hold up the bottle. “will you-”

-”yes.”

“wha-?”

-”yes”

-and thats how he came to practice will bright pink nails and sushi figures on his fingers. You can be the worst, and much like Hinata he will still love whatever you did.

-Like, this man will be openly obsessed with nail polish and manicures, even though he knows it isnt something that a guy like him, y’know, big(ish), plays volleyball, most likely has calloused hands, would do.

-Will most likely make it a routine to do each others nails every weekend, with a new style or design, with you doing his, and him doing yours.

-Will spend HOURS DOING YOURS

-just do it. he loves you and he will do whatever without question.

Nishinoya

-Do I even have to say it?

-He would got he full 10000000000000000000000000000%

-RHINESTONES? YES

-GLITTER? ALSO YES.

-YOU WANT TO PUT FLOWERS OF SUSHI ON IT?

-DO IT.

-HE WANTS TO TRY AS WELLL LET HIM

- “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MOMMA?”

-”YEAH I CAN DO I WANNA TRY”

-just let the boy do what he must, but supervise him otherwise he might try to dye his hair with the glittery nail polish.

-might be one of the most hyped out of everyone to get his nails done.

Tanaka

-he will be skeptical at first but will do it eventually after a lot of bribing and maybe making him a bit jealous if you go do one of the teammates nails and hint at it.

-otherwise no and im sorry

-BUT IF YOU DID MAKE HIM JEALOUS, THEN HE WILL MAKE YOU GO THE 110% AND MAKE EM THE MOST GLAMOROUS NAILS EVER.

-WORTHY OF EVEN THE GREATEST NAIL ARTIST, EVEN BETTER THAN THE ONES THAT DO THOSE AMAZING ASS NAILS FOR YOUTUBE.

-OR IF YOU REFUSE HE WILL TRY DO DO HIS OWN OF GET HIS MOM TO DO HIS.

-MIGHT BUY A BOTTLE SECRETLY AND GET NOYA TO DO IT IF HIS MOM SAYS NO.

-JEALOUSY IS KEY

(oh here we go-)

Kageyama

-now imagine in the gif above that you are Hinata.

-that’s his exact reaction.

-no matter how much you beg, he will not do it.

-bby even if you burst into tears he wont.

-actually scratch that he will. he will be the definition of  P A N I C

-and thats when you say if he lets you do his nails then he will look away with a light blush dusting his cheeks then will mumble a very quiet quiet,

-”fine...”

-of which then you will be so happy and the tears will vanish and he will be pouty but will let you do whatever the fuck you want to his setter fingers

-and his gorgeous nails will be decorated with whatever.

-you

-want

-<333

-so go crazy :)))

Yamaguchi

-now heres where im stuck

-im sure he will be flustered and refuse,

-but i also think hell agree immediately.

-so... probably with bribing, and like tsukki, he will want flat colors, no design.

-and subtle colors.

-not much to this guy but if tsukki starts to make fun of him he will be pressured to remove the nail polish and might start subconsciously picking it off.

-poor bby tell him its ok and that he’ll be perfect and look amazing with his pretty nails

-that will make him feel really good and prideful about it and he might let you do his nails again, so long as he gets to wear gloves around tsukki.

thank youuu feedback is welcome!

[nectarous]

TOOTHSOME ⇋ OJIRO ARAN X F!READER.

TAGS: strangers to soulmates. suggestive themes [no smut]. constant changes of pov. slowburn fluff with angst ending.

W/C: 3.3K

SUMMARY: a simple study of intimate bonds and tasting love.

⇦ SEWER SOULMATE SYNDROME COLLAB MASTERLIST ♡

there’s something about the world that’s absolutely and wholly dull. waking up to blistering rays glaring through open windows, working at a lackluster club, coming home to your barebones apartment that you’ve never bothered decorating. you only look forward to collapsing into a steaming bath, dreading the fact you’ll have to repeat this all over again once the sun starts to peek up from the horizon.

it’s what’s deserving of such an uninspiring, miserable personality. you’re not interested in much outside of the bubble you crafted. you’re indifferent to the fickle things; love, bonds, and that mouthful of flavor when you meet your soulmate for the first time. it doesn’t interest you in any capacity. 

you know that there’s a lot to be desired with you. your people skills need tinkering and while your work ethics are respectable enough, all you can think to describe yourself is boring.

you’re interested in surviving and supporting yourself. living long enough to enjoy yourself, but short enough to not have to work hard—you’ve never been interested in the company and passing affections of others.

the idea of a soulmate is a delicate one to some, daft to others. you’re more indifferent on the topic, leaning closer to disdain, about the idea of a fated second half. 

how naïve you are for thinking that you’re lucky enough to escape it, unaware that in a short twelve months, it’ll only take one stranger to ruin your perception of love, of the world, of yourself. 

just like everyone else, you’ve been taught about soulmates, raised around the idea that finding them would finally open you up. from an outsider's perspective, you understand how they work, how they feel. you’ve spotted that glazed over look in their eyes more times than you care to count. you’ve witnessed soulmates bumping into each other for the first time, seen how eyes light up, and heard the crashing of heart beats from across rooms. you swore you could hear them salivate at the taste of each other’s presence. 

you’re certain that’s something you’ll never experience. you hope you’ll never meet them, hope that they're dead or far away in some other continent, or that they’re as much as a homebody as you are. you covet to be in the majority that never meet their soulmate, and have to settle for yourself and 

you’ve made it this far alone. why bother searching for your other half now?

• • •

even at 27, aran’s still hopeful he’ll find the person he’s supposed to spend his life with. it’s a silly little fantasy, one that has settled deep in his core, meeting the love of his life and instinctively knowing. all through his teenage years, he’s been teased for being a hopeless romantic. but who could blame him? what’s more serene, more absolute than the idea of finding the person who will love you for who you are, for the rest of your life?

his romanticism has mellowed out over the years, and he’s become a reasonable man with a successful career and lifelong friends and a dog he spends a fortune on every month. he’ll let life take its course, pray for the best, and continue on.

everyone has a soulmate. he hopes it’s only a matter of time before he meets his. but it’s not a necessity for him.

• • •

the first time you see him, your soulmate, is outside some onigiri shop, bathed in the purple shadows of sunset. you instantly turn the other way, stumbling into some random convenience store and ignoring that lightheadedness, and the urge to gag at the rich flavor soaking into your mouth, hoping he doesn’t feel your proximity. 

all of a sudden, you’re not that hungry anymore.

• • •

aran feels it. his knees grow weak, his heart swells twice as big, there’s a pressure in his sinuses that almost has him stumbling back. and then that feeling’s gone. when he looks around, no ones there, but the residual feelings still linger.

this is the taste of aran’s soulmate. he always expected love to taste like bubblegum or the strawberry mochi he used to split with his sister. he expected to savor the color pink, or red, delicate colors that remind him of spring and joy.

instead, there’s a bitter, heavy metallic soaking into his mouth; like antimony and lemon rinds. it clashes against his taste buds causing his face to scrunch up in distaste.

it tastes like gray.

• • •

the overwhelming taste in your mouth is pastel green, tooth-decaying sweet, and tart. it drips down your throat, makes your gums and your heart ache and throb. it feels like you’re going to choke right here, in the snack section of a convenience store.

granny smiths, heavy molasses and acerbic echoes of sumac sticks to the insides of your cheeks. the emotions so saturated it starts to burrow deep in your teeth.

you hate how warm it makes you feel.

• • •

you recognize him immediately when you’re flicking through the channels waiting for your dinner to reheat. of course the universe decides to pair you up with a fucking olympic volleyball player with amazing things going for him. you can’t change the channel, can’t ignore that he looks a little too good panting and covered in sweat. his voice rumbles smooth, his eyes glimmer, his quiet chuckle makes you throb. 

you’ve been laying in bed and trying to push out the sneaking thoughts of him, trying to erase the green flavor that creeps back in ever since. 

it’s been two weeks since you’ve been anywhere near that shop. the fear that you’ll bump into him again is… overwhelming. but you’re exhausted, working through the day for the second time this week. and of course, you forgot your umbrella at home, forcing you to run through the muggy rain in a ratty shirt and soggy sneakers. 

you told yourself you’d take the long way home, but now that cutting through this block will get you out of the rain faster, knowing it’ll get you back home in time to catch that cooking show while you take a bath, tempts you too much.

but of course, nothing that life hands you seems to go your way.

and of course he’s out there again. out of all days. you hope he’s not some mindless sap that waits outside of the shop everyday, aching for the chance to bump into his soulmate and live happily ever after. that might be the only thing that would make this soulmate bond even more painful.

you really should’ve just gone the long way home.

he looks happy and, you begrudgingly admit to yourself as you wait for the crosswalk to turn green, even more handsome than on your tv. big. he’s on the phone, protected from the rain under the shop’s awning. the taste of green’s already oozing it’s way back in.

apparently, that perspective ability you admired while watching one of his first matches bleeds outside the court too, because he immediately makes eye contact with you. eyes widen, he hangs up immediately, and his hand raises in a wave.

and the first thing you can do is run.

• • •

he can sense that his soulmate’s near, that sharp tinny taste overpowering the onigiri osamu forced him to finish. it has his nose crinkling up before he whips his head up, staring at a girl. his heart soars a bit, finally he gets to meet you, before crashing down upon seeing that expression of horror on your dripping face, before you trip your way into some alley. he doesn’t second guess running into the sheets of rain, not hesitating at the sudden chill of rain.

he can tell that you’re scared, terrified, disgusted at the idea of having a soulmate. is it because of him?

the taste of each other is overwhelming, gunmetal grating and foiled and loud crashing into his. can barely swallow it down, eyes rolling back. 

you can’t handle the onslaught of pungent syrupy sour, it’s soaking into your head more than the rain. it makes you hunched over and soaked, retching bile and the remnants of breakfast, you want to die.

you want to tell him to fuck off, let you drown in apples, in the vomit and the rain, but he’s insistent. he keeps a polite distance, a safe distance, from you. arms flex in his soaking pale t-shirt while he looks at you like some kind of wounded, rabid animal.   

“let’s get you warmed up, ok?”

that tart taste eats away at the rancid bile in your mouth, and you hate to admit that his charcoal eyes start to slowly thaw you.

you’re a mess of chattering teeth, goose pimpled skin. your nipples are poking stiff peaks into your shirt and your fingers are shaking, but he politely ignores both, stepping over the puddle of vomit to pick up your dropped bag, hot hand on the small of your back as he leads you in through the back entrance of the onigiri shop.

two identical faces, the only thing separating them is the shock of pale blond hair, are watching you from a distance as aran presses soft cotton into your arms and leads you into the locker room. they both feign boredom as you shuffle by them, but even in your bleak state, you can’t ignore that interested glimmer in their eyes from behind the register.

the sound of slopping clothes dropping against the cold tile makes your skin crawl, your eyes sting, and your head ache like it was just banged into the concrete. you don’t know whether to be humiliated or thankful, unsettled or grateful that ojiro aran’s actually nice. such a simple word. just these last 10 minutes has proved his heart of gold and, as you tread back into the main room, you think you’re going to cry.

no one talks as you collapse and curl up on one of the farthest seats, as you start to lose yourself in the sounds of thunder and the stifled radio, the cold bleeding it’s way into your brain. you can start to feel yourself dissociating, vision starting to blur, losing yourself in the numb. 

the delicate placing of six onigiri snaps you out of it, aran’s look of concern makes you curve over your knees as you drag the plate closer. his eyes tickle at your soul, baring deep into your bones, as if he can see how much you're hurting, how much you don’t care. compared to him, you look like a drenched rat, hair still damp and feet bare. 

you really might cry. 

because it hurts. the thought that he’d treat you good like this, every day, for the rest of his life. you can tell he’s kind, the way he sets down a cup of tea and brings you some food. the way he offers you a change of clothes. he’s a gentleman, and you feel pity for him, that he’s attached to you. 

the tilt of your lips in gratitude probably translates more as a grimace than a smile.

he waits until after you finish eating to start talking, “i’m ojiro aran.”

“i know,” you respond back. “that volleyball player.”

your droning voice doesn’t make him flinch back as you hope.

“i hope i’m not overstepping, but i can tell that you’re not the happiest with — ” finally he hesitates, flicking the sugar packets, eyes tracing over your face. you make it a point to not return the eye contact. 

“look. i’m not sure if it’s because of me, or you’re not happy with the idea of soulmates in general.” he overlooks the way your fingers twitch around your mug. “and i’m not going to force you to do anything, because i can tell that you’re on edge right now.”

he lowers himself so he’s not towering over you, balancing on his toes, still toying with the condiments on your table.

“to tell you the truth, i’m a bit of a romantic,” something sweet starts slipping into his voice. “i can tell that you aren’t. we don’t have to rush into anything, say the word and we can forget we ever met. but i think this can work out. we just need to pace to our comfort levels.”

and as you stare into his eyes, him squatting in front of you and holding your still shaking hands, the utter care, eyes almost pleading, and a soft smile that he’s emitting, it makes you feel peace for the first time. the stains of melancholy in your bones start to fade, and pastel green leaks from the sides of your cheeks making the corners of your lips involuntarily twitch up.

maybe, just maybe this’ll work out.

• • •

it’s been months, and aran’s learnt more about you than you know. he’s picked up that you despise physical affection just as much as the rain, but that you crave the heat from his body.

he thinks about you constantly. he replays your ‘dates that aren’t dates’ on repeat at practice, printing your face in his head on his morning runs, and he welcomes that metallic bitter that comes with you before he goes to sleep.

you’re standoffishness is soft and appealing at first glance, like antimony you taste like. the more time he’s in your presence, the more that lack of intimacy burns at his eyes, and his lungs. his hands sting with rejection every time you inch and shrug away from his touch or grimace when he laughs at your half-jokes. he knows there’s a separate woman bedded underneath. he saw her at the restaurant, he sees it whenever you watch the sunset. he notices it most behind the closed doors of his apartment. 

he’s come to appreciate your hands. your hands convey the things you’re too nervous to say. he can feel the adoration pulsing underneath the fragile skin in your fingers and your wrists, whispering the things you can’t always say out loud. they speak to your sense of comfort with him, the vulnerability you only show with him. the way they sneak under his shirt to run down his smooth back when you're cold, only to pull back and hope he didn’t catch your slip up. 

he notices the chipped polish that you pick at when you're stressed over deadlines. how your hands shrink in comparison to every part of him, tracing the callouses and scars from decades worth of volleyball. he loves how you bring his hands up to kiss on his knuckles after hours in bed, before you make up excuses as to why you can’t spend the night.

much to your annoyance, it makes him want to try that much harder. 

• • •

love. a complicated, sinister, four letter word you never thought you were built for. you think about it a lot, in tandem with aran. probably too much to be healthy. he’s the first thing you think of when you wake up, plaguing  your mind as you work, and leaving you always wondering what time he goes to sleep.

it's embarrassing. the three hours you spend with him every weekend has turned you into some sort of sap, haunted with his musky scent, that soft smile and that embarrassing craving for him to pat your head again. like your some fucking puppy. and you swear, that syrupy green apple taste is stained into your taste buds, it’s seeped into your bones and ruined you.

the last thing he deserves is you. you know that. but he doesn’t think that, he’s letting that metallic taste run him around lovesick. he makes you feel blistered; every touch and adoring glance burns into your flesh in permanent, achy reminders. he has your number, knows where you live. but he respects you and the distance you’ve placed.

he’s getting too comfortable too quickly, and he keeps surprising you with how patient he is. he’s adaptive, tenderhearted, almost philanthropic with the way he took in the charity case of you. 

it didn’t pan out the way you expected the first few months. you expected failure, for him to snap at your constant rejections and complaints. apparently, experiences with his childhood friends prepared him for you.

he's too helpful of a person, wanting to talk about feelings and cooking you food when you didn’t ask for it. it scared you, how fast he accepted this soulmate thing, how fast he was able to care. his hugs lasted too long. he's suffocating you in adoration and care, and you can tell he’s almost to the point of being in love with you.

poor aran. you’ve been destined to be with this man, who’s been destined to be alone since birth, all because the universe promised you to him. 

you know you’re going to destroy this beautiful bond that the universe crafted. you’re bitter and mean and unable to open yourself up to him; he almost knows nothing about you, and you know almost everything about him. you know how his younger sister wants to become a physical therapist, how the owner of that little onigiri shop has been one of his best friends for almost two decades. and you know his favorite food’s ritz crackers, that he’s a morning person. he loves dogs and hates horror films, and his two greatest joys are his family and volleyball.

there’s an unspoken hint that he wants you to join the former.

and it’s unfair; who wouldn’t fall in love with that scar on his neck. you try to focus on his bad parts, of which he only has one. his stupid dog, adzuki. that mammoth of a german sheperd that follows you around, places it’s paws on your lap when you come over for dinner.

he laughs every time you grimace at him, looks like we both have a weak spot for you.

• • •

you shatter his heart on the first year anniversary since you’ve been bonded. you were already dangling by a heart string, and that little band of gold and red he gifts you is where you force yourself to draw the line. 

all you can think about is how you need to abandon him before either of you get too attached. you’re teetering on the edge of ignoring your gut instincts, of collapsing into him, wanting to let him see the shattered pieces inside you. but then he’ll do something as mundane as calling you over for dinner, and you remember.

he terrifies you. 

there’s a reason you haven’t spent the night again. the intimacy of you and him, and his ugly dog, and that picture frame of your date at the beach hung right next to one of his family portraits. 

he loves too much and too hard, he’s too intense. he makes your skin prickle in hot fireworks, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight with unease. he’s beautifully passionate about everything he lays his eyes on. he lives life to the fullest and all of a sudden, you want that too. he makes you crave domesticity, waking up next to warm umber hands tracing patterns in your skin, cooking breakfast together, a house in tokyo. a wedding band on your finger.  

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

you remember the dulling of gray eyes, and his hunched over figure bathed in the ashy violet rays of the sun setting. you try to hold onto that flavor of green before you swallow it for the last time, saliva and tears welling up, before you press one last kiss on his cheek before stepping out. pastel green fades to emerald fades to black. you can’t taste apples or sumac anymore.

no, as much as you wanted to be, you weren’t built for love.