#no one way to do a casino au! that's what me Ma always said

[demonboyhalo]

I may have made character stuff...

-So Ranboo's just this dude, owns a casino somehow, and he's generally regarded as pretty nice, it's the place you go if you want to gamble and not have to deal with asshole owners. If you can avoid Tommy, he's not the friendliest. And yeah, the owner wears a mask around all the time, but sometimes people are just like that. -In other circles, though, he's generally regarded as someone you don't want to mess with, he's intuitive as hell and has a lot of resources. And his stare is oddly menacing if you think about it for too long. Everyone he's ever been in a business meeting with will vow on their life that the man doesn't blink. -The casino has regulars, and some of them are normal, just fairly friendly and they like the place. Others, however, are more... quiet. They stick out. There's the guy with long pink braided hair and a pig tattoo, who everyone swears they've never heard talk. They're also pretty sure he carries a gun under that jacket of his, someone saw the handle once when he was pushing past them. (Techno's fairly close with Ranboo and the others, he just doesn't know how to deal with customers.) -Another one, often seen with him, is the man in green, usually a trench coat but someone's girlfriend's cousin's father's dogsitter's brother's pretty sure they saw him in cosplay once. He has a matching green earring with the man with pink hair (actual gold and emeralds, high quality too.), and is rarely seen without him. He's occasionally affable with the customers, but mostly he seems a bit too tired of them. Whenever he's around, there seem to be more crows than usual gathering around the building, some even pecking on the windows. -There's a third, he doesn't come around as much, but he's simple, a yellow turtleneck and a scarf of blue wool. When asked, he'll tell you his girlfriend made it. (No one knows anything about the girlfriend, and they're pretty sure he's making her up. He is. He found the scarf on someone's dead body. He panicked the first time someone asked.) He seems a little zoned out sometimes, but then he'll give you a too-sharp smile or you'll see a glint of steel at his hip and you remember to fear him. -All of the regulars know Tommy, and if you asked them they'd say they hated him, but they'd be lying for saying they weren't at least a little fond of the guy. Sure, he was a bit insufferable sometimes, but he had some sort of magical ability to worm his way into your mind until you were sighing of tired affection instead of tired anger. -No one really knows Tubbo, most only know of his existence from the golden band Ranboo wears, and the ones that do don't really see much substance to him. Sure he's nice, but lots of people are nice. They've clearly never seen the stacks of C4 in his stock room, or seen the flamethrower he made once when he was bored. (Ranboo made sure all his clothes were flame-retardant after its creation, because his husband was great at what he did, but his aim wasn't always precise.) -Schlatt was the local police commissioner, and taught Tubbo everything he knew. Maybe he wasn't the most straight-laced policeman, but who was? Look, he usually didn't let people die, that's probably how he got his job, right? Well, that and the copious bribes and threats. No one ever said he was a good person. He was currently after some mysterious group that kept stealing shit and blowing things up (and probably doing other things, but he hadn't figured them out yet), because honestly they were bad for business and it would look good to have taken down a whole crime ring. Maybe he'd even get a commendation. Maybe he should ask Tubbo what he thought, maybe he'd have some advice, he was kind of stuck at the moment.

Feel free to add stuff on my brain just decided to hyperfixate

YO THIS IS DOPE??? (honestly this deserves a post of its own so i won't add on anything) you've fleshed out such an interesting concept Anon, i love your take on this AU!!!

[lovetorn]

in chains for you [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU

Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?

Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!

Word Count: 8.1k+

A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(

Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks! 

Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!” 

The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away. 

Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.

“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”

The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them. 

George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously? 

Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!” 

“Jeez, chill out.”

Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.” 

George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” 

Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps. 

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw. 

Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled. 

“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came. 

The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.” 

Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds. 

He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.

Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued. 

“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.

“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”

Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight. 

“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones. 

Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was. 

“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.  

“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up. 

“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?

“Soon! Stop being annoying!” 

It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong. 

He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch. 

He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes. 

They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her. 

Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door. 

On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?

— 

“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying. 

Palm Casino.  Wednesday Night. 12am.  Be there, or face death. 

Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know. 

How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—

Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her. 

Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet. 

“Dream—” 

“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device. 

“This is your fault, you dipshit.” 

Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.” 

Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.

Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino. 

“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions. 

Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied. 

As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away. 

“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table. 

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream. 

Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!” 

—  

Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that. 

Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.  

Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”

Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”

“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.  

Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.

“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again. 

“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said. 

“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.

Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream. 

Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table. 

“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him. 

“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him. 

“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again. 

“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl. 

Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself. 

“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly. 

Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.  

But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with. 

Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down. 

“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home. 

—

Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk. 

Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office. 

“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look. 

He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?” 

“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.” 

Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.

“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.

The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up. 

Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him. 

Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?  

Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor. 

“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.” 

Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.  

“Give ‘em hell, baby.” 

—

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions. 

Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal. 

“Hello? You fuckin’—” 

“Sapnap.” 

The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.

“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”  

“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat. 

“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.  

“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.” 

The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.

He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor. 

“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her. 

The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention. 

Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.

“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable. 

Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.  

“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.” 

With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence. 

She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her? 

She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely. 

Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company. 

—

Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing. 

Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair. 

“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”

Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve. 

“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”

Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now. 

Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.  

The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young. 

When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers. 

She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.

Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried. 

—

As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.

“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.” 

Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it. 

George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?

“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.  

Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table. 

“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”  

Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot. 

“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same. 

“Ok then, where’s the security office?”

—

“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!” 

George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined. 

“Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct. 

His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey. 

“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times. 

George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.  

The first basement looked usual,  with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet. 

“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?” 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot. 

“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy. 

“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply. 

“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him. 

“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back. 

“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.” 

Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.” 

The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs. 

Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red. 

He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below. 

Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down. 

He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.  

Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.  

He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing. 

Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient. 

The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above. 

Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed. 

He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.

“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut. 

“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.

“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side. 

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?” 

Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth. 

“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way. 

He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man. 

“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in. 

“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement. 

“Here.” 

The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them. 

Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left. 

The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness. 

Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.” 

Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win. 

Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.  

“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up. 

“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy. 

The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting. 

“Dream, listen, buddy—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”

But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions. 

“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.  

“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.

Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned. 

“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze. 

“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.” 

“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving. 

“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand. 

“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.  

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers. 

“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”

“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.” 

Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”  

Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her. 

“Fuck, I thought—” 

“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly. 

“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something. 

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat. 

Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” 

“Of course, you will.” 

“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief. 

“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.

When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them. 

“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”

And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room. 

“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again. 

“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?” 

“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.” 

The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel. 

“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles. 

“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.” 

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response. 

Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her. 

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.” 

Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply. 

“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his. 

“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 

Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips. 

Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing. 

“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded. 

“You got that right, baby.” 

Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo

[quentinsquill]

The 16th Loop

Author: Lexalicious70 (Neptune_Rising70)

Fandom: The Magicians (TV show) 

Pairing: Eliot Waugh/Margo Hanson (platonic friendship/soulmates)

Warnings: Brief depictions of physical abuse, mention of major character deaths  

Genre: AU/alternate time loop. I play fast and loose with the timeline here, kids.

Word Count: 4,972

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: In the 16th time loop, Jane brings Eliot and Margo to Brakebills as teenagers, where they learn about magic, each other, and what it means to reveal your true self to someone you love.

A/N: This story is for the 2017 Welters Challenge. Theme: “Brakebills.” I don’t own The Magicians: no profit earned, this is just for fun. Kudos and comments are magic! Enjoy!

 The 16th Loop

By Lexalicious70 (aka Neptune_Rising70 or TheChampagneKing70)

 “It’s getting worse for him, Henry. Please, you have to help!”

 Eliot sat in the room just off the kitchen, the one his mother insisted on called “the parlor,” even though its tatty salmon-colored rug was discolored with age and foot traffic and the lamps were all mongrels from the local thrift store, listening. His left arm still ached fiercely from where his father had punched it, just above the elbow, and while his nose had finally stopped bleeding, it felt tender and swollen. He held the handkerchief their visitor had given him—Henry Fogg, his mother had said his name was—against his nose anyway, enjoying the comfort of its silken feel. In a world of rough, scratchy wool and worn-out cotton, the handkerchief, which was a midnight blue with slightly lighter pinpoints, was the most luxurious thing Eliot had ever touched. He hoped the man would let him keep it.

 “I run a university for magical pedagogy, Helen, not a home for wayward boys!”

 “He’s not a wayward boy, Henry, he’s my son and his innate abilities are only getting stronger! He’s barely been able to control his telekinesis, much less hide it from his father! Frank knows something’s different about him and it’s making him lash out. Please, Henry, I’m begging you, as a former student—”

 “A former student, a talented one, who dropped out because some young man with big arms caught her eye at an off-campus party! A man who caused that student to give up magic! I advised you not to go with him, and now this is the result! Your son is at the mercy of abilities he inherited from you, and because you gave up your own, he has no one to help him get them under control!”

 “But he does! You can! Please, take him to Brakebills with you! Cast a spell over his father, make him believe Eliot’s gone to a private school, before he does something to Eliot that he can’t take back!”

 Eliot closed his eyes as silence spun out in the kitchen. Finally, Fogg sighed.

 “Very well. I’ll foster the boy, Helen. I have another student his age that also needs asylum—a special case out of Los Angeles. Question is, will your son be willing to accompany me, a stranger, to a place he’s never been?”

 Eliot got to his feet, torn between waiting for his mother to call him and admitting he’d been listening. He didn’t have to wait long.

 “Eliot? Come in here, now!” His mother called, and he went to the doorway. Even at sixteen, the top of his head brushed the curved alcove. Unlike most of the sturdy, sunbaked farm boys in Whiteland, he was slender and pale, his form a startled exclamation point. Deep-set amber eyes regarded first his mother, and then Fogg. Fogg noticed that while the boy’s dark hair was cut short, almost brutally so, the whorls around his ears told the Brakebills dean that it would riot with curls if allowed to grow.

 “Yes, ma?” Eliot asked, and his mother nodded at Henry.

 “You’re to go with Dean Fogg now. He’s going to look after you, help you with your—your problems. You understand?”

 “Yes, ma.” Eliot nodded, turning toward the older man. He offered Fogg back his handkerchief and Fogg waved it away casually. Something warm bloomed in Eliot’s chest as he tucked the satiny thing away, and he vowed to clean it as soon as he could.

 “Go pack a bag. I can send the rest of your things.” His mother said, and Eliot glanced out the window, where he could see his father’s bulky silhouette out in the north field as he rock picked.

 “What about dad?” He asked, and his mother smiled.

 “Don’t worry about your father. Dean Fogg will talk to him.” Her mother started to reach out to touch his face but stopped, as she always did, depriving him of her affection at the last moment. “Go on. Go pack. Everything’ll be just fine, son, you’ll see.”

  An hour later, Eliot found himself carrying his battered vinyl suitcase and old boy scout knapsack as Fogg created a portal behind his family’s barn. Fogg stepped toward it.

 “Come along now, Eliot, you’re perfectly safe.” He said without looking back, and Eliot stepped through the portal after him. The thing snapped shut behind him as Eliot looked over his shoulder at it, and then they were making their way through some thick green bushes. Unlike the bleak November sky they’d left behind in Indiana, the one over Eliot’s head was a bright blue, the air warm and filled with the smell of growing things.

 “Did we travel in time, Mr. Fogg?”

 “Dean Fogg. You may call me Dean. And no . . . the wards around Brakebills are very old and time here tends to warp. So while it may be almost December back in the ordinary world, it’s spring here. You’ll get used to it. Hurry along, it’s nearly dinnertime and I want to get you squared away.” Fogg led him toward a three-story building with double doors. It stood in the shadow of the main building, and Eliot looked up at the massive granite block with the school’s name chiseled into it as they passed. Fogg opened the doors of the smaller building and the stale, rather industrial smell of a dormitory hallway drifted out.

 “I know this probably isn’t what you expected, but you’re much too young to stay in the Physical Kids cottage, even I suspect that you’ll place there later. The students there are much older and I don’t believe you’re ready for their brand of—well—merriment. For now, you’ll stay here.” Fogg opened up a plain wooden door onto a small dormitory room. There was a full bed, a wooden chest of drawers, a study desk, and a few empty shelves. A thin closet was built into the opposite wall, and on the other was another door. Eliot looked around.

 “These are connecting dorms. They’re designed to give the students a feeling of camaraderie and association. You may lock or keep it open to allow your neighbor access, it’s up to you. Now, usually we don’t have an issue with space, but thanks to a very wet winter, this is the only building that isn’t being treated for mold.” Fogg crossed the room and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal the most petite girl Eliot had ever seen. Dean Fogg wasn’t a big man but she barely came to his shoulder. Deep-set dark eyes tipped up at him, her heart-shaped face framed by long brunette hair. Dean Fogg motioned her forward.

 “Margo, come in. I want you to meet someone. This is Eliot Waugh, he’ll be staying in the dorm adjacent to yours. Eliot, this is Margo Hanson.”

 “Hullo.” Eliot set his things down and offered his hand. Margo took it and gave it one squeeze before letting it go as her dark eyes flicked up and down, from the worn brown hiking boots he wore, to his faded jeans and plaid shirt, now almost a size too small for him, to his home haircut.

 “Hi.”

 “Well! I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Margo, perhaps if you filled Eliot in on how things work here at Brakebills and then bring him to the dining hall in about twenty minutes?” He glanced between them. “And I suspect I can leave you? There won’t be any shenanigans, the kind that happen when boys and girls are left to their own devices?”

 A sardonic smile twisted across Margo’s painted lips.

 “Oh, I think I can guarantee it. Right, Eliot?” She asked, and Eliot nodded, glancing away.

 How the hell did she know?

 “Yes . . . right.”

 “Excellent!” Fogg nodded. “Dinner in twenty minutes then. Welcome to Brakebills, Eliot.” The dean shut the door behind him and Margo looked down at Eliot’s meager collection of belongings before her dark eyes flicked over the shirt he wore.

 “That shirt is for someone like half your height. What’s up with that?” She asked, and Eliot took a deep breath.

 “I grew. Over the summer. And there wasn’t much money for new things.”

 “Well no offense, sweetie, but you look like a scarecrow that someone forgot to stuff. Job one? Get you some new clothes.”

 “How?” Eliot asks, and Margo grins.

 “Oh, there’s ways. We can’t have you walking around looking like that!”

 Eliot sat down on the bed.

 “You’re my age, right? Sixteen? How come you’re here?”

 “I used unauthorized magic to rob a bank in Los Angeles.”

 Eliot stared at her, wondering if this was some kind of weird joke city people told, but then Margo frowned at him.

 “What? I needed the money! Fogg’s magical GPA locators found me, so instead of me going into hiding or to jail, he brought me here. He says I have potential.” Margo scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What’s your story, farm fresh?”

 “I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Except that I can make things happen just by thinking about them and that my mother made me come here with Dean Fogg because of it.”

 “Telekinesis? That should come in handy! Come on—I know a guy, a third year, who’s about your height. Maybe we can persuade him to let you borrow some clothes.” She took his hand with authority, as if Eliot didn’t have at least three or four inches on her, and tugged him out the door.

 Six Months Later

 “Margo, are you sure about this? Dean Fogg is bound to notice all these new clothes!”

 “Dean Fogg is all wrapped up in trying to organize an international welters challenge. Believe me, we’re way under his radar.” Margo dropped several dozen shopping bags on Eliot’s bed.

 “But we robbed a casino!”

 “Ah!” Margo turned and wagged a finger at him. “We did not rob it! We just . . . persuaded a few of the machines to spin in our favor, that’s all! It was a measly three grand, Eliot. Not a big deal.”

 “But the fake IDs?”

 “It’s not my fault that the state thinks I’m not able to pull a lever down on a slot machine until I’m twenty-one. Because clearly, I do it just fine! Now come on! Quit spoiling it, try on your new stuff!” Margo pulled out dark, tailored trousers, shirts, vests, and ties from the bags. “You’re going to look amazing. And you have a great sense of style for being a farm boy!”

 “Quit calling me that! And I—I used to order catalogs in the mail. Sears and Roebuck, J.C, Penny, so I could look at the clothing. I just never thought I’d own anything as nice as any of this.”

 “Well now you do, and you deserve it. Go ahead! Want me to turn my back so I don’t see you in your undies?”

 “I don’t think it matters.” Eliot replied softly, and Margo frowned.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Margo? The day we met and Dean Fogg asked if he could leave us alone together . . . how did you know I was gay?”

 “Oh. Well, I’m not sure if I knew one hundred percent until you replied. I could see it in your face.”

 “Well. You were right. I am. I’m gay. I’ve never told anyone before. I’ve never even said it out loud before.”

 Margo’s dark eyes widened a little.

 “Eliot . . . are you coming out to me?”

 “Yes. I suppose I am. I couldn’t—not to anyone where I lived before.” He took a deep breath and then gave a brief chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m doing it now, actually.”

 “No, no!” Margo went to him and took his hands. “Eliot, I’m flattered. Honored!” She smiled up at him. “We’re best friends, right? How much time have we spent together since we met?”

 “Almost all of it?”

 “Almost all of it!” Margo echoed. “And how much do I like people?”

 “Not very much at all?” Eliot ventured, and Margo rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

 “You bet your ass not very much at all. So what that should tell you, Eliot Waugh, is that we are the best of best bitches and I don’t care if you’re gay, bi, pan, or if you do it with sheep—”

 “Christ, Margo!”

 She put a finger to his lips.

 “Still speaking! My point is, I might not like most people, but I like you. Hell, Eliot . . . I love you. Okay?”

 Eliot’s smile grew into a grin.

 “Okay. Thank you. And—and I love you too.” He turned toward the best and touched a shimmering grey vest with mother-of-pearl buttons. “So, which one do I try on first?”

 Two Years Later

 “I remember when Dean Fogg first brought me to Brakebills. He told me that I couldn’t live here because the older kids’ parties were too wild.” Eliot looked up at the door of the Physical Kids’ cottage. “Why do you suppose he’s changed his mind? Aside from the fact that we got to take the entrance exam early and we both killed it, of course?”

 He and Margo stood side by side with their bags, examining the door. There was a piece of paper tacked to it that read:

 Physical Kids, let yourselves in. 😊

 “Probably because your wardrobe was slowly taking over the dorm room and because you could barely fit through the doorway anymore?” Margo glanced up at her friend and the person she considered her soulmate. He’d changed a great deal from that nervous, closeted boy she’d met two years before. Not only had he grown to well over six feet tall, grown out his dark hair, and learned to style the curls in a way that managed to look both careless and flawless, he’d honed his taste in clothing, in food, and his skill for magic. The ease of which he’d learned the rudimentary spells Fogg had allowed him access to had impressed the dean, and they’d both been allowed to take the exam nearly four years earlier than most students did. Fogg hadn’t been certain of Margo’s chances, but Eliot had refused to take the exam unless she was allowed to as well. Both had passed beyond expectation, and he and Margo had been sorted into the Physical Kids group at Brakebills. Now they were coming to live at the cottage for the remainder of their schooling.

 “Let yourselves in. Mmmmh.” Eliot sighed as he glanced around. “Clearly we have to find our own way in if we want to live here. Any ideas?”

 “You could just bash the door down.” Margo tapped her temple and Eliot’s lips pursed in distaste.

 “That’s so—gauche.”

 “All right, Mr. Gauche, then let’s hear one from you!” Margo put a hand on her hip, and Eliot tipped his eyes skyward in thought before he snapped his fingers.

 “I know! Vester’s Whirlwind!”

 “That’s a cooperative spell, and we’ve only done it once, under Dean Fogg’s explicit supervision!”

 “I know, but what better spell to use for two people trying to get into the same place? Come on Margo, I know you can do it! You’re more talented than you give yourself credit for.”

 “Fine.” Margo rolled her eyes. “Stroke my ego.”

 “If we get this right, then lots of pretty third and fourth years will want to stroke more than that because they will be very impressed.” He took her hands. “Ready?”

 Margo took his hands, nodded, and then closed her eyes. They mirrored each other’s finger movements, touching fingertips, palms, the edges of their hands, until the spell began to form around them. They began to spin, slowly at first, and then faster, their forms blurring, edges becoming less defined. Eliot kept chanting but he could feel the way he was joining with Margo, their skin, their muscles, their cells touching, and then they simply passed through the door of the Physical Kids cottage like it was made of smoke. Eliot released Margo’s hands and they were spun in opposite directions and kids yelped and scattered as drink, books, and empty CD cases flew and bounced off the walls. Eliot grunted as he bounced with them and slid gracelessly down the wall, the faces of the amazed older students staring at him. He looked over at Margo, who was sitting against the opposite wall, dazed but giggling. He grinned at her and raised a showy, elegant hand.

 “TADA!”

 The applause began somewhere in the back of the room and then quickly spread as he and Margo were help up, dusted off, and checked over for wounds. A fourth year brought them smoky green drinks in martini glasses, and one sip let Eliot know that he and Margo were home.

 “Isn’t she cute?” A tall, lanky girl with bleached hair streaked purple asked a friend as several older girls surrounded Margo. “So tiny, like a baby deer!”

 Margo drained her glass, grabbed another from a tray as someone carried it past, and glared up at the girl with enough outraged body language to make her take a surprised step back.

 “Sweetie? I ain’t no fuckin’ Bambi!”

 One Year Later

 “Are we sure this isn’t some massive prank the third years aren’t pulling on us? It’s fucking freezing up here!”

 Eliot shook his head as he looked across the starlit campus of Brakebills. He and Margo were standing on the roof of the main building, a bottle of Johnnie Walker in his hand, two thick hanks of rope over Margo’s shoulder. While they had been living in the Physical Kids cottage for the last year, Dean Fogg had kept Eliot and Margo on a restricted program until the start of this most recent semester, and now, at nineteen and nearly twenty, they were the youngest first years in Brakebills history.

 “It’s the last part of the trials and if we don’t go through with it, we’re finished here. And by the way? Fuck that because I am not going back to Indiana!”

 “Okay, fine, God!” Margo hung onto Eliot’s arm for balance as she stripped off her high heels, then her pantyhose. Eliot unbuttoned his vest and set it aside, then his aubergine shirt and trousers, stripping until he was nude.

 “I better get these clothes back after whatever is supposed to happen happens. The trousers alone were $150!”

 “Give me a shot of that whiskey.” Margo stood naked before him and Eliot kept his gaze averted as he handed it over. She took a shot, grimaced, and handed it back. Eliot took a slug and then picked up the bowl of paints they’d brought to the roof with them. Eliot looked down at her as they stood facing each other, and then Margo nodded. Eliot dipped his fingers into the paint, drawing sigils on Margo’s face and shoulders, and then passed her the bowl. He closed his eyes as she drew vertical lines under his eyes and down his chest and shoulders before using one of the heavy hanks of ropes to bind his narrow wrists together. He did the same to her, working a bit awkwardly. They stood there, shivering, Eliot’s body long and lean and pale in the starlight, Margo’s darker and curvaceous.

 “What happens now?” Margo asked, and Eliot swallowed hard.

 “We have to reveal our innermost truth to each other. Bare our souls.”

 “I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you about myself that I haven’t already.” Margo picked up the bottle of scotch with her bound hands and took a long pull on it. Eliot watched her. “God, this is so stupid! We’re best friends . . . soul mates! I don’t know why Dean Fogg insisted we be partners when we already know each other’s truths!”

 “Maybe he knows something we don’t.” Eliot sighed. “Seems like he always has—like how he knew my mother used to be a student here and that the powers I have came from her.”

 “Shit! Really?”

 “Yeah. I used think there was something terribly wrong with me. But she knew all along what it was. She just never told me about any of it because she was afraid of my father. So was I. I guess it was that fear that kept her from calling Dean Fogg that day when I was fourteen—aka the worst day of my life.”

 “What happened?” Margo asked, looking up at him, and Eliot met her gaze.

 “I killed someone.”

 Margo’s eyes widened until Eliot could see his own reflection in them, a pallid face etched with stubble, dark curls tumbling down from their carefully coiffed positions and falling over his forehead. He felt tears build in his own eyes.

 “Please don’t hate me, Margo.”

 “I don’t! I swear, El! Tell me what happened.”

 “There was this boy. A big kid who lived on the farm down the road from us. He was—” Eliot’s mouth tightened. “He beat me up. So one day I was walking back from town, I’d gone to the general store for a soda and a Clark Bar because by then I was already very unhappy and eating my feelings at a professional level. And I saw him on the other side of the street. He saw me too, and he started crossing over. And there was this bus.” Eliot shook his head. “I barely thought the thought, Margo.”

 “Whammo?” She whispered.

 “Whammo.” Eliot nodded. “It was like he exploded. I knew almost instantly what had happened. What I’d done. Logan Kinnear died on impact, I got a nosebleed, and I never even got to finish my candy bar or drink my soda. I ran home—my mom helped me clean up and the whole thing was ruled as an accident. They said he must have been playing in the street. Not paying attention. But it was me, Margo. It was the first time I ever used my telekinesis, and someone died because of it.”

 Margo nodded, but the defensive, self-assured mask she wore all the time was nowhere to be seen. She looked like a frightened child.

 “My mother is a prostitute.” She said suddenly. “Or was—I don’t know if she’s alive or what. My grandparents raised me until I was about thirteen, but then they died. My grandmother got dementia and once she died, it was like my grandfather died from the inside out. He was gone a month later, and I went into foster care. It’s not a good place to be, El. A lot of the families either just want the money or easy pickings . . . someone they think won’t fight back. But I did. My grandparents didn’t have any idea about who my father was either, so I decided to start taking care of myself. That’s how I ended up getting involved in that bank robbery. I was the lookout.” She looked up at Eliot. “I know I act confident, but honestly? I don’t really have any idea who I am or where I came from.”

 Eliot slipped his arms around her and a moment later he felt the warmth of her arms around his as well.

 “Your ropes are gone.” He said, and Margo stepped back to look at him.

 “So are yours—oh!” Margo doubled over suddenly and Eliot reached out to her when pain streamed through his shoulders, his arms, his chest.

 “Margo—” Something was forcing him downward, making him smaller, and he cried out, grabbing at Margo, as they both pitched over the edge of the roof. He transformed in midair and then he was pumping his wings—his wings!—madly. He rose into the air, a sleek male Canada goose. Margo swept in beside him, also transformed, and as they raced to catch up with the rest of the first years, flying south. Eliot let the air currents guide him, freed of his guilt, his burden, and he honked joyfully at Margo as they flew away from Brakebills and into the night sky.

 One Year Later

 “El, wait up!”

 Eliot glanced over his shoulder as Margo ran along the sidewalk to catch up with him.

 “Christ, it’s like trying to outrun a giraffe!” She panted, and Eliot cocked a brow at her spike heels.

 “Maybe if you gave Daisy Duke her shoes back?”

 “Fuck you, they’re amazing and you’re jealous. So where are you hurrying off to?”

 “Dean Fogg is making me go meet one of the potentials and chaperone him to the exam room. I can’t believe I have to babysit!”

 “Can I come with you?”

 “You better not, the dean told me not to be late for—” He frowned and pulled a small placard from his vest pocket and glanced at it. “Quentin Coldwater. Have you ever heard a more absurd name?”

 “He’s probably some Manhattan hipster whose parents sent him to Young Shakespeare Camp and raised him on kale and wasabi peas.” Margo smirked, and Eliot put the card back in his pocket and pulled a pack of Merits from his trouser pocket, tapping it on his wrist as he rolled his eyes.

 “God. Just what I need . . . to play wet nurse to a wayward vegan!”

 “Mr. Waugh, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Dean Fogg strode past them both as he checked his pocketwatch, and Eliot made the cigarettes vanish with a flick of his hand.

 “On my way, Dean Fogg!” He got moving again, pausing only when the dean had vanished around the corner. He kissed Margo’s cheek.

 “I’ll be back in thirty, Bambi. Have a cocktail ready for me, something tells me I’ll need it!”

 “I will. And don’t call me Bambi!” She called after Eliot’s retreating form. His laughter streamed back at her over his shoulder, and Margo rolled her eyes as she headed for the Physical Kids cottage, knowing it would be the only reply she’d receive.

 Ten Months Later

 “Have you both considered this decision carefully? Not that it’s my job to talk you out of it.” Dean Fogg looked from Margo to Eliot, both of who stood in front of his desk, holding hands. They both looked haggard, exhausted, washed out. Eliot nodded.

 “Quentin is dead, Dean Fogg. Alice too . . . Penny lost his hands.”

 “But you defeated the Beast!” Dean Fogg countered, and Margo shook her head.”

 “It’s not a win for us. Our friends are dead. We can’t stay here.”

 “We’ve earned this. We’re tired, Dean Fogg . . . we’re tired and staying here would mean facing the ghosts of Alice and—and Quentin—around every fucking corner. We bested the monster.” Eliot pulled a flask from his pocket and took a long pull on it—he’d been in some stage of inebriation ever since he’d watched the Beast twist Alice’s head around on her shoulders before ripping Quentin’s throat out. Eliot had blacked out after that, but Margo and Penny, now minus his hands, told him that he’d gone after the Beast with a primal scream of rage, using his telekinesis to rip the demon literally to shreds. But that didn’t matter to Eliot. He wasn’t a hero. Quentin was still dead.

 “Now let us go.”

 “Very well.” Dean Fogg rounded his desk. “You realize that it’s very uncommon—almost unorthodox—to send students away from Brakebills in pairs?”

 Eliot looked down at Margo.

 “Both of us have been unorthodox students, Dean Fogg. So doesn’t that make this a perfect ending to our time here?” He asked, and the dean nodded.

 “I suppose it does.” He flexed his hands. “Are you ready?”

 “Just a second.” Margo touched Eliot’s cheek and her throat bobbed. Eliot mirrored her action.

 “Bye, Bambi.” He said softly, and Margo blinked away tears.

 “Try to remember me.” She said, and then both she and Eliot were borne up and away from Brakebills by the dean’s spell, to one of the dozen places where they sent mind-wiped magicians who were too broken to practice their craft anymore.

 Plaxcorp, the San Francisco office, Two Weeks Later

 “Hey, newbie!”

 Eliot turned from the break room’s coffee maker, where he was using the hot water setting on the Keurig to make himself a cup of tea. His manager, Gary Groff, a carelessly jovial man with a russet beard, stood in the doorway in one of his terrible sweater vests.

 “Yes, Mr. Groff?”

 “Got a job for you!” He stepped aside, and the most petite woman Eliot had ever seen walked into the room. She had long brunette hair, done up in a Japanese twist, and intelligent dark eyes that seemed to note everything in the room. Gary smiled.

 “Eliot, this is Margo Hanson. She’s new here and she’ll be working in your department. I was hoping you’d show her around. Margo, this is Eliot Waugh, one of our data wranglers here on the 39th floor.”

 Eliot set his tea mug down as Margo walked up to him. She barely came to his shoulder and her movements were lithe, graceful.

 Like a deer, Eliot thought to himself, and offered his hand.

 “Nice to meet you.”

 Margo’s painted lips twisted into a sardonic smile that Eliot responded to immediately—this one looked like she could even make data entry interesting.

 “Pleasure’s mine,” Margo replied, shaking his hand, and Gary nodded.

 “Well! I have other employees to terrorize. Think you two will be okay on your own?”

 Eliot looked down at Margo, who smiled widely. Something mischievous danced in her eyes, and for a moment, Eliot swore he tasted some strange and exotic flavor on his tongue, something rich and smoky—something magical.

 “Oh!” Margo nodded. “I think I can guarantee it.” 

FIN