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technowoah · 4 years ago

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Rather Be Devisive Than Indecisive pt. 2

You weren't planning to help Techno again, but here you are with his horse.

- ANON REQUESTED!

- I really wanted to do second part anyways! So thanks a bunch!

- this story is long 😪 it'll all make sense though!

- part 1 is here!

- masterlist!

To say everything went south was a understatement. Everything went to hell, and you were currently living in it. You missed watching the sunset standing ontop L'Manburg's walls, you missed the peacefulness before the war. Maybe back then was too good to be true.

After the last encounter with Technoblade you had turned back to help Tommy and Tubbo. You tried to help wherever you could because you can see everyone drift apart, the main reason people came together was gone and dead. You tried to be a bigger sibling to both of them, and you tried to Tubbo and the former citizens repair the crater Wilbur left behind.

It took years, but L'Manburg was new and fresh again, with the help of Tubbo's new cabinet of trusted people L'Manburg was peaceful again. Tubbo had made you apart of his cabinet as well as Quackity, Fundy, Tommy and Karl. It was a new beginning.

There were days where you wondered if Wilbur would get a funeral. Schlatt had gotton a funeral, but you saw first hand how that went it wasnt a somber moment at all. It was for the best, they had mixed feelings about Wilbur and you dont blame them.

You had a new family, but there were things unkown to you, things that are being created out of your knowledge and that scared you. We have new L'manburg, but it isnt the same you dont know how long Tubbo could uphold peace in this new kingdom.

New things were created from the end of a old one.

It was a peaceful day in L'Manburg just as Tubbo promised the new citizens. You had stayed busy the whole day until a certian blonde came around your house frantically urging you to get outside and follow him

"C'mon! Just follow me! I have something to show you!"

"Tommy what are you talking about?!"

"Its VERY important, hurry! I dont want him to leave that spot."

Tommy had dragged you by the arm to the pier that evening and kept chanting that he had to show you something of utmost importance. You were trying to ask questions and keep up with his pace as he weaved through buildings claiming they were a "shortcut". Tommy stopped you at the pier and stood to your side, he was looking back and forth at the end of the pier to the water and back to you again.

You were about to ask why you were there until you saw a familiar man.

"Oh! Hello! Tommy who is this?"

He was pale, no, he was transparent. He looked pale, the sunset's dull rays made it seem like he still had skin. He had a yellow sweater on with brown pants and black shoes. He looked comfortable, he looked free. Next to his side there was a sheep on a leash with blue dye, you noticed it was poorly dyed too the dye was dripping from its wool. It was Wilbur, physically, but it wasn't HIM.

"He's Ghostbur." Tommy whispered to you while he stood between you two.

"Yes, I'm Ghostbur!" The ghost cheerfully said.

"This- this is y/n. Dont you remember?" Tommy cautiously asked Ghostbur.

Ghostbur had a look of confusion and curiosity on his face. He seemed so pure compared to when he was alive.

"No..I can't, but I would love to know." He stuck out his hand in a greeting.

"Hi I'm ghostbur!"

"I'm y/n." You said lowly.

You tried to reach out and grab his hand but it went straight through. You hated it, he's gone and you couldn't bring him back. It isn't him, but Ghostbur maybe better, Wilbur is gone and thats okay. Something came out of nothing, you kept telling yourself that everything was okay, but now seeing Ghostbur so naive and pure and free of the world's weight you believed everything would be fine.

"Im sorry. Im transparent, and I have no flesh." Ghostbur smiled.

"That's fine." You paused looking for the right words. "Do you know what you did? To L'Manburg?"

"Believe me, he dosen't. I tried." Tommy said to you.

"I couldn't belive I would do such a thing." Ghostbur added on.

"He shares no memories of Wilbur. Basically a new person." Tommy continued.

"That's great." You perked up. "It's bittersweet ya know. But Im happy you're here Ghostbur!"

"Im happy I'm here too, and Im happy I met you today." Ghostbur smiled at you while his sheep walked towards you, he unknowingly rubbed up against you putting blue dye on your clothes.

"Oh! This is Friend! I forgot to mention him to you. You can pet him!"

You didnt want to. He was dripping with dye, but you did it to appease Ghostbur. Tommy cringed while you petted the slightly wet, blue sheep. Once you were done your hand was blue, you rubbed it on your clothes that were already blue.

"I think he likes you." Ghostbur cheerfully said.

You were so thankful for Tommy bringing you to that pier. It was the closure you needed to move on and focus on building a new life for all of you. A peaceful life, but it seemed too good to be true. Days went by like normal and that sometimes was too much for you. You worked on new buildings and worked with Tubbo's cabinet too, that was a new normality for you.

The unknown scared you, but you had your family here. You had made amends with them and now and this is what you wanted. But then again it all seemed too good to be true.

Nobody had told you anything, you weren't in cabinet meetings, nor around Tubbo or Tommy. You felt shut out, you felt sick. The cabinet had decided to do something about Tommy and Dream started to become involved in Tommy's predicament. Soon after Tommy was in court, stripped away of his vice presidency, and had been put on probation.

Tubbo had come to you about Tommy being exiled. There was a huge meeting with the cabient and Dream about that situation and you had stayed silent the whole time. You wanted what was best for L'Manburg, but Tommy was like a brother to you, you couldn't send him away to fend for himself. You could see the confliction on Tubbo's face as he was going through the same dilemma as you were.

In the end Dream gave Tubboo 3 days to chose if to exile Tommy or not.

Tubbo had talked to you about the situation before the second day came. You two were in the same boat when it came to exiling him. You two had came to a conclusion, Tubbo just had to talk with the rest of his cabinent for a final conclusion.

The second day came and the plan switched immediately when Tommy came and introduced it. He wanted to fight back against Dream, of course he did, but he wanted another man to come and help. They wanted Technoblade to join their revolt. Quackity and Fundy agreed with the idea, but Tubbo was more cautious. You hated it.

Technoblade wasn't a subject nor person you wanted to be associated with ever since that night in Pogtopia. After all this time you had forgotten about him, you had forgotten your failed attempt at rekindling your friendship until now.

Tubbo was cautious, but you were 100% against it. Tubbo agreed with the rest of the cabinet and Tommy. They eventually asked you, and of course you said no, but it didn't matter, majority rules in this case.

You all approched Dream intop of the obsidian walls with your final decision.

"We have come to a decision. Look around." Tubbk leaded.

"There's giant, obsidian walls." Dream answered calmly.

"There is, there is Dream. And that's a problem, okay? This is funny actually." Tubbo turned back to Tommy. "Tommy, I am- I am so sorry."

Tubbo continues to talk to Dream. "I have come to the decision, that it'll be better for the nation the most logical thing to do is for Tommy to be exiled from L'Manburg."

"What?"

"Tubbo?!"

"Teaming up with Technoblade is an awful idea! It's an awful idea!"

Oh thank goodness.

"We just had this conversation!" Fundy yelled.

"No! No! Okay?! Nothing! Involving any kind of conflict is not safe for this nation! You've undermined my authority from the get go! Okay! All of you! No one here has respected me. You all jump on these merry little bandwagons of destruction. It's not okay!"

Tubbo was livid. His face was turning red and will keep doing so if he kept yelling. You felt a familiar breeze beside you as you saw Ghostbur standing next to you and behind Tommy. He smiled at you and continued yo listen to Tubbo's angry speech. You wondered why he was here, why he showed up at times and then left. Like he only needed to listen and not give any input.

"You cant go back on the plan now?! What the hell?!" Tommy yelled.

"When I was sworn in I made a promise to do what was best for the nation. And right now, Tommy you, your presence here is not the best for his nation."

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you think ghostbur noticed. You were happy that you didnt need to see Technoblade again, but you were going to lose what you would call a brother. You started to backtrack on your final decision, you belived Tubbo was in thr right. Tubbo wanted what was best for L'Manburg and what was best for L'Manburg was for Tommy to be exiled. You wished there was another way, but you know Tommy was stubborn it wouldn't work that easy.

Your mind kept wandering to if Tubbo decided to team with Technoblade. He was right there would be destruction, a huge war and probably the end of L'Manburg. You didn't want that again, you didn't want to see him again. You couldn't help but wonder if he knew L'Manburg was brand new.

"Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country."

Tommy was gone. Its been weeks, four weeks to be exact. L'Manburg was peaceful, everywhere was peaceful, but you had to admit that you missed him. Fundy and Quackity tried to convince Tubbo to bring Tommy back, but he already made up his mind. He was confident in his decision, you were proud he was ruling L'Manburg confidently, but everyone was weary.

You haven't seen Ghostbur around either, he must've been floating around somewhere. It's none of your business.

The walls have been taken down and L'Manburg was independent again. There were sacrifices to be made. There were a lot of sacrifices to be made to keep L'Manburg up, and you kept asking yourself if everything was worth it. Was the discs worth that much to Tommy? Was L'Manburg even a good choice to begin with?

Was Technoblade right?

The Butcher Gang. They were calling themselves The Butcher Gang. The cabinet had several meeting and came ti the decisions that the biggest problems in L'Manburg were Technoblade and Dream. The cabinet decided not to kill Dream because of the fact that he was allies with L'Manburg, so they decided to try and kill Technoblade.

Dumbasses. You've mentioned to Tubbo that he was a very, very, very dangerous man. Tubbo has seen him before! You asked Tubbo constantly why did he wants to kill him when he says that he didn't want to team up with him. Tubbo said it was for the better of L'Manburg, but dosent he know that might cause even more trouble?

You didnt want to join them, you couldn't risk your life for something that is impossible to achieve. You separated from the cabinet, you couldn't watch them do this and you tried to stop them, but they insisted on the act.

Lately you've seen more of Ghostbur and that made you happy. It made you happy he wanted to spend time with you and it made you forget the trouble brewing in the cabinet.

"What's wrong?" Ghostbur asked while sitting on the edge of the pier with you, and Friend who was tied to one of the pier's poles.

"It's nothing Ghostbur." You said with a sigh.

"Good!" He cheerfully said.

"Can I actually tel you something?" You asked again, you wanted to get this off of your chest.

"Of course." He smiled.

You sighed and then began to speak as you looked out to the water. "It's the cabinet, its Tubbo, Fundy and Quackity that's the problem."

"But they are wonderful people! What can they do wrong?" Ghostbur suddenly asked.

"They want to kill someone, Ghostbur."

"Maybe it was a misunderstanding."

"I dont- I dont think so." You hung your head looking at your feet.

"Ghostbur, they want to kill Technoblade and I dont-"

"Technoblade?! That's my friend! Why- why would they want to kill him?"

Your heart felt heavy at his words. Another point not to kill Technoblade, you didn't want Ghostbur to hurt, not like Wilbur.

"He was a friend of mine too once. When L'Manburg first got blown up he- we betrayed L'Manburg and then spawned 3 wither skeletons to destroy the rest of the citizens." You explained to Ghostbur's disrught face.

"You wouldn't do that! You're kind!" Ghostbur exclaimed.

"It wasn't my best decision Ghostbur. People can make bad mistakes. A lot of people do. They aren't pure like you." You smiled softly at him.

A long hush fell over the two of you until Ghostbur perked up.

"We need to save Technoblade!" He exclaimed.

"Ghostbur I cant do that."

"Why not?"

"Because me and Techno aren't friends anymore." You said sadly.

"Why not?"

You couldn't answer that. You can, you can give the right answer, but at this moment you couldnt tell the ghost who suddenly stood up next to you.

"If I take you to where Technoblade lives will you feel better?" Ghostbur asked with Friend's leash in his hands.

Tubbo, Fundy and Quackity didnt know where Technoblade lives and desperately wanted to know to kill him. Maybe this was a good idea. You tried to convince yourself that as you walked side by side with Ghostbur. You had followed him through the woods as he weaved in and out of the trees. Friend was following Ghostbur as well, he wouldn't let Friend stay anywhere out of his sight.

You were getting special treatment, you were about to find out where Technoblade lived before The Butcher Gang would. Would you be considered a traitor again? Tubbo wouldn't want you back in the cabinet if you knew where Technoblade lived and you didnt tell him.

The atmosphere got colder as you two ventured on, you didnt know he would retreat all the way out here. It was snowing and you didn't bring any type of warm clothing considering L'Manburg was rather warm. Ghostbur had no problem, neither did Friend. Luckily you saw a light in the dark woods. It was further away, but you could see the light expand as you two treaded over towards it.

"That's the house!" Ghostbur pointed too.

You two reached the end of the woods and before you was an opening. There was blanket of white snow everywhere, there were footprints in the snow, but they were being covered by the falling snow above you. It was a valley and the only thing there was a beautiful wooden house. It was errie, the only civilization here was was Technoblade who lived in the house.

"It's pretty lonely." You said still cautious of the situation.

"Yeah it's sad, but we're here and it's okay!" Ghostbur said.

"Sure." You whispered as Ghostbur continues to lead the way.

You two got closer and closer to the house and you continued to try and back out. It's too late to do so now, you didnt even feel like walking back to L'Manburg after you confront Technoblade again. The two of you were heading up to his door, your heart was beating heavier as you got to his door. You brought your fist up to knock on the door, hopefully he was home because you were freezing cold. You harshly knocked on his door and awaited for his response.

You two waited for a while, but no one was opening the door.

"Ghostbur why don't you go inside?"

"I'll just peak my head in!" He answered and did so. His head phased through the door and then he came back out with a frown on his face. "No one is in there."

"Why did we come here?" You sulked and started to turn away from the door.

"Why the hell are you two here at night?!"

"Oh! Techno! Hi!"

Shit. You were looking into his eyes and you froze when he turned to you. This was the first time you've seen him in years ever since Pogtopia, you hated it. It was embarrassing you tried to become friends long ago, but that failed, and now you were here again. He probably saw you as desperate, coming back to him after betraying him.

"Hello Ghostbur. How are you?" Technoblade walked in between the two of you opening the door to his house. When he walked in he intentionally left the door open for you and Ghostbur. Luckily it was warmer inside and you welcomed it.

"Im good! But we are here for you." Ghostbur cheerfully said.

"Oh really?" Technoblade said while occupying himself with something else, not even bothering to look at the two of you standing awkwardly at his closed door.

"Yeah, Y/N tell him!" Ghostbur urged you on.

You paused for a second before speaking to Technoblade, who wasnt even paying attention. "There's these people called the Butcher Gang."

"Sounds stupid."

"Yeah it is. And they want you."

Techno scoffed. "Want me for what?"

You knew Technoblade was smarter than this. He was bouncing around the room not even sparing a glance towards you. He wasn't paying attention.

"They want to kill you Technoblade."

He stopped all of his movements, stood up to his full height and looked towards you and Ghostbur for the first time you've been in his house.

"You better not be screwing with me."

"Why would I?!" You got offended by his statement.

"I dont know, because you show up to my house out of nowhere and tell me that people are trying to kill me. This could be a setup! I cant trust-"

"Okay! The Butcher Gang is Tubbo, Quackity and Fundy. Thats all I know of who's in the group. They want to kill you because you are a threat to L'Manburg. Trust me!" You cut him off and explained.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Technoblade asked you.

"Dont kill them, but I wanted to warn you. They are being reckless and since you're out here they shouldn't bother you. They're looking for more trouble, Tubbo already has a lot on his plate, this isn't a good idea for you nor L'Manburg."

You finished your statement still weary of this whole situation. You hated being in this situation, Techno's presence didn't make you uncomfortable it was just seeing him and warning him of future danger. You two weren't even considered close, why were you here? You were here for L'Manburg.

"Okay. I'll try. No promises though." Techno smirked and continued doing whatever task he was doing.

You found somewhere to sit for the time being knowing that you two wouldn't talk. Looking around the room you realized that Friend was alone inside the house without Ghostbur. You looked outside and saw him walking from the woods again in a rushed pace. You didn't know he left, he phased back into the house.

"They say they're gonna kill you. Y/n was right." Ghostbur says.

"Were you two leading them to my house?!"

"No."

"No we didn't! We didn't even know they were coming today!" You stood up looking out the window in search of Tubbo and the rest of them.

"Ghostbur who was with them?" You asked as Techno ran around the rooms for weapons and armor.

"Um, Tubbo, Fundy, Quackity..Oh! And Ranboo."

"Ranboo?!" That poor kid. What is he doing?

"Eventhough I hate to say this. I don't trust you. Get out." Technoblade paused infront of you before rushing to the other room. "And tell them I'm not home!"

"And if that dosent work?!" You yelled back.

"Then to hell with them!"

You rushed outside with Ghostbur, hoping that the Butcher Gang dosen't notice you were leaving Technoblade's house. It was too late, they were already lined up outside with full netherite armor and gear.

"Y/n?!"

"Wait what are you doing here?" Tubbo asked as you made your way towards them.

"Im- I wanted to try and rekindle mine and Technoblade's relationship." You used an old lie to get yourself out of this situation. This was an already bad look on you, hopefully your lie would work.

"I thought your friendship ended a long time ago?" Tubbo asked again.

"It did, but I wanted to try again." This was embarrassing, now you really seem desperate.

"I see, then move out of our way." Tubbo asked you harshly.

"Uh- hey." Technoblade came out of his house with full netherite too, you weren't protected, so you will have to stay out of the way.

"Why have you guys come all the way over here to my humble abode?" Technoblade started walking towards his stable where he kelt his horse. He tried to lighten the mood, but it didn't seem to work. As he moved you moved with him trying not to be inbetween the dangerous men with swords and enchanted armor.

"You need to pay for your war crimes." Tubbo said while following Technoblade.

"That was like- that's in the past! Alright, that was a different Technoblade. Im a changed man now! Im in retirement! Im a good person now Tubbo!" Technoblade dragged on as Tubbo just hummed in response.

Quackity spoke up. "Technoblade you exploded L'Manburg with fucking withers."

"You literally spawned Withers everywhere!" Tubbo exclaimed.

"Im sorry, Im sorry Technoblade as much as you changed you have to be brought to justice for that." Quackity interrupted Tubbo.

The Butcher Gang tried to speak to Technoblade at the same time, when Technoblade spoke up over them all.

"Listen guys! I've gone through so much effort over the past month to change my violent ways! I've reformed alright? The voices, they demand blood! And I- I have been denying THEM! Ive been fighting back! Please! Please dont make me kill all of you, please just leave."

You guess he has changed, but you knew somewhere in your mind that he wasn't talking about just the Butcher Gang, he was including you too. You were somewhat confident that you wouldn't be attacked or killed, but you were terribly wrong before.

There was back and forth banter between the two of them. Techno had tried to show the gang his bees and tried to make a run for it.

"Techno!"

"Hey!"

"He's running!"

The gang started running towards him, but instead of continuing he stopped and turned to them. You were trailing behind trying to catch up to them, you kept running after them. You were not equipped for this night, you didn't know Ghostbur was going to bring you out in the open cold. You could hear Ghostbur behind you as you continued to run towards them.

"Y/N you're gonna damage yourself!" Ghostbur's voice became more echoed and further away as you tried to get closer to the gang before they got killed.

"There's no other way."

"Tubbo dont be stupid!" You were right behind the Butcher Gang.

"There's no other way!"

Fuck

"I CHOSE BLOOD!"

A cloud of smoke enveloped the 6 of you and you suddenly could see. You could only see the glint of everyone's armor.

"Y/N get behind us!" Tubbo tried to blocked you off from reaching Technoblade.

"Why didn't you bring any armor?!" Quackity yelled.

"I didn't think i was gonna be fucking out here!"

Technoblade must've set off multiple smoke bombs because the smoke wouldn't stop, the smoke made you woozy, but the others didnt seemed phased by it at all and kept fighting Technoblade. Your lungs felt full, and you felt like passing out, but you wouldn't allow yourself to do so.

"Tubbo stop this!" You yelled out when the smoke cleared a little.

"No! He needs to pay!" He said while fighting with Fundy.

The air was still hazy and you lost sight of people occasionally. Whipping your head around you were met with what felt like the butt of a axe. You quickly saw a split second of a shiny axe and then a pain in your chest spiked up. You double back and tried to recover, but then you've been sliced in the thigh and a deep cut in your side taking you down to the ground. You were bleeding out and desperately trying to heal the wound in your side. You felt your consciousness slowly slip from you as you laid on the snow. The warm contrast of your blood compared to the cold snow was sad. You always get hurt, no matter what you do. It's inevitable, and you finally gotten used to it.

The last thing you heard was yelling, but it slowly faded out.

You were warm, and not in the middle of nowhere anymore. You opened your eyes to see yourself staring at a polished wood ceiling, the soft pillows and blankets around you made everything feel so much better. Your whole body hurts, you dont want to move nor do you want to remember. Thank goodness that someone had patched you up, you didn't want to die. You tried shifting your body but the pain in your side was denying any movement.

"Oh! You're awake thank God!" A voice called out from your side. You looked over to see the half human hafl enderman sitting in a chair by a window. "I thought you weren't gonna wake up! Tubbo and the rest if the cabinet was worried as well."

"Were you the one who patched me up?" You asked carefully.

"Yeah! Luckily I can see in that fog, so I took you away and patched you up." Ranboo smiled.

"Who- who hit me?" You asked trying to sit up again.

Ranboo paused. "Technoblade." Ranboo said in a somber tone.

"I see." You sighed.

Ranboo helped you sit back on the headboard of the bed and you two continued to talk.

"Are you mad at him?"

"Im just upset. Its okay, he said he'll kill all of us so I knew he would." You kept your gaze at you lap.

"Yeah I get it." Ranboo replied.

"I have a question ranboo!" You perked up.

"Yeah? Shoot."

"Why did you join the Butcher Gang?" You asked the taller man. He stayed silent thinking of a right answer before actually speaking.

"They were nice to me. I trust people who are nice to me, that show me kindness and treat me with respect. I know its lame, my answer isn't fully fleshed out, but that's the reason." Ranboo shrugged and you nodded.

You would love to know Ranboo more, he seems like a great guy, but he's just lost.

"Oh! I forgot! You have a letter!" Ranboo walked around the bed and brought out a folded piece of paper and handed it to you.

You unfolded it and began to read.

𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦

𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶

- 𝘋

"Execution site?" You looked towards Ranboo.

"Oh yeah! Technoblade's execution is today an-"

"How the hell did you get him?!" You interrupted him. "Im sorry."

Ranboo looked shocked before composing himself. "Dont worry! Well, we took his horse hostage and he immediately wanted to surrender if we didn't let Carl go." Ranboo gathered stuff around the room. "And the execution is today, happening in a few minutes and I need to be there. I'll be back soon to check up on you!"

You nodded and continued to listen to him.

"Are- are you coming?" Ranboo sent one last glance towards you before making his way out.

"You know you dont HAVE to go." You said trying to ease the tension.

"I know. I really do know." He sighed. "Are you sure you dont want to?"

"No, Im okay." You sent him a smile.

You had lied again. Of course you didn't want to see Technoblade get killed, but that note that was left made you go to the cave. You trudged you way up to said cave, even though the pain in your side was unbearable you continued on. Once you had gotton up to the cave, you peaked inside cautiously. You saw a man in a cloak with a familiar mask on with Technoblade's horse. You knew it was Dream.

"Hello."

"Hello Dream."

"I will cut right to the chase. Take Carl and wait here. I have other work to do." He handed you the reigns to Carl and started to leave.

"Excuse me!? What do I do? Why do I wait here?!" You yelled after him and he just waved you off.

You rolled your eyes and found a stone in the cave to rest against with Carl's reigns lazily in your hands.

You didnt know what time it was, but the sun was slowly going down, it wasn't particularly sunset, but you knew it was late. Your eyes began to close until your heard screaming in the distance. You sat up slowly, now fully alert. You held Carl's reigns tighter as you backed into the cave more and more.

Footsteps were heard in the distance coming up to the cave and you thought if Dream had set you up for failure. The footsteps grew louder until a panting Technoblade appeared at the entrance at the cave. He looked horrible, he was thinking the same thing about you.

You two exchanged no words. You didn't want to say anything, what would you even say? He rushed over to Carl and started petting him. "Carl you're okay!"

You hummed as you and Techno shared a glance. He smiled at you. He smiled at you. It's been so long since you've seen him smile. He didn't need words to communicate, his eyes and smile said enough. You matched his smile and gave him a knowing nod and he did the same.

"Feel better eh?" Technoblade started conversation.

"Not really. What about you?"

"Eh- used a totem of undying just now."

"What?! Really?" You exclaimed. "I guess that's why you're here now huh?"

"Yeah I'll tell you about it sometimes." He smiled and climbed atop of his horse and you could see him thinking. "Im sorry too. You almost died cause of me. Thats is unacceptable, I shouldn't- I shouldn't have attacked you. I couldn't-"

"You cant control it. It's gonna take me awhile to recover, but..." You touched your bandaged cut. "It'll take me some time."

Technoblade nodded knowing what you meant. He could always read your mind somehow, thats what made you two work. Knowing eachother. He sent you one last silent goodbye before riding out of the cave. You knew that trust was somewhat restored, and that you two were better than before. This might be a new beginning.

A very angry Quackity came running around the corner of the cave and spotted you leaving. He whipped his head around to you.

"Hey! Where the fuck is Techno?!" He yelled at you.

"I don't know-"

"Dont bullshit me!"

"I. Don't. Know." You said more sternly. He gave you a hard glare before running away.

You went the opposite way trying to make it back to the room you woke up in before Ranboo came back.

Earlier you were desperately trying to befriend Techno, but things come more naturally you learned. You cant rush things, nor control this world. Things will fall into place, your and Technoblade's friendship will blossom again.

You will never find peace, but that's okay. You should be used to it by now. Everything is chaotic, but everything will be okay.

225 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

In the Stars (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request: So, first of all, I love your writing so much. I've just finished reading "In the stars" and I've loved it! Idk if you're taking requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do a part 2?

A/N: You guys… I had so many fucking requests for part two of this, I love you. I'm honestly overwhelmed by how much you guys engage with my work on here.

Side note; I don't actually know much about astrology so take anything I say with a pinch of salt since it's done with surface level research for this. I'm more of a tarot girl myself and originally I was gonna switch the astrology to tarot since I know all about that. But I didn't wanna deviate from the request too much so I stuck with astrology.

Warnings: cursing, bit of fluff, idk flirting? Talk of sex but no actual sex?

If you guys want a part three to this which would mostly be smut then hit me up lmaoooo

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You were lounging on a beat up sofa that was in the greenhouse at the back of the flower shop. The plants were watered and it was a nice day. You were taking a moment to relax and let the sun come through the glass above you like a cat basking in the warm glow. You knew a customer had come in a little bit a go. You'd heard a gruff voice ask Gemma for advice on flowers for his girl. But since you were never needed in the front, you just chilled out for a bit after popping some headphones in and vibing in the sun as you leisurely scrolled on an astrology site you were on.

Maybe, just maybe, you'd been thinking about Mr Fancy Coffee man in the past three days since you ran right into him. You'd been sure you'd see him again at the time but it hadn't happened so far. Either way, you kept thinking back to his smile and his obsidian eyes and you smirked as you read what you'd already known when you'd called back after him to give him your own sign.

'Aries and Scorpio Sex:

Aries and Scorpio like to turn the heat up with everything they do! So, you can imagine the bedroom as being one feisty! Aries is a fire sign, and Scorpio is a water sign. Mix fire and water and what do you get? Yes, it is steam! With this duo between the sheets, we pray the wallpaper can withstand the steam-effect! Aries and Scorpio are the same when it comes to an intense libido. They are energetic with enough energy to keep each other up all night long.'

You ripped your headphones out, tossing your phone on the worn out faded pink cushions as you bounded to the door to the main shop.

"Hey, Gem! Did you know that Aries and Scorpio are like hella compatible for sex? I mean we'd just be riding each other all ni-" your words died on your lips as you slipped through the beaded curtain to find the man from earlier who hadn't actually left yet. He was a little rough looking but he wore a look of shock and thorough amusement at your words as you smacked a hand over your mouth with a laugh. It wasn't really appropriate talk in front of a customer but even Gemma bit her lip to stifle her incredulous laughter.

"I uh… I'm sorry," you murmured, a sly smirk on your face that said you weren't really sorry but said it anyway to be polite. He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Sounds like a hell of a time," he replied with a chuckle. It put you at ease that he wasn't going to start something about your behaviour, threaten to take his business elsewhere. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done that.

"Don't mind her. She's the crazy plant lady," Gemma grinned as she continued adding flowers to the bouquet on the counter. Some pretty forget-me-nots.

"Hey! I'm not crazy just because I talk and sing to them. It's science! If I didn't do that then all these beauties would be withering away in misery," you pouted playfully, earning another laugh from your best friend and chuckle from the man.

You looked at him then and he was already looking at you. His gaze wandered your face and hair like you held the secrets to the universe and you quirked a brow curiously. Knowing he was caught out, he glanced away and cleared his throat but his eyes flit back to you. It wasn't like you weren't used to looks since you were anything but ordinary, but he looked almost like he knew you or something.

"Sorry… just… thought I recognised you," he muttered apologetically.

"Oh trust me, you'd know if you'd met her before. She leaves quite the impression," Gemma snorted.

"I bet she does," the man said with a small smile as he looked at you again like he knew something you didn't. Or maybe you were imagining it.

You grinned as you walked towards the counter, leaning your arms on it as you admired her work. The bouquet was filled with purples and blues and it was breathtaking.

"Serious relationship?" You asked casually. The man looked slightly taken aback by your bold question and Gemma swatted your arm as you gave her a look.

"What?" You asked with a huff. The man smiled and shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It is. Been together for a little over a year now," he had a lovesick look on his face and you found yourself smiling back at him.

"You love her?" You asked softly. He rubbed the scruff on his chin with a bashful look that looked at odds with the rest of him as he nodded.

"That I do," he murmured fondly.

You pushed up and leaned your hands on the counter as you glanced from the flowers back to him.

"You should get her a succulent," you declared. Gemma snorted again as she trimmed the ends off some roses and the man quirked his brow.

"You mean like… a cactus or some shit?" He asked, sounding confused and amused.

You rolled your eyes, whizzing into the back and grabbing a small terracotta pot with a baby succulent in it. It looked almost like a flower with how it's leaves were arranged. You bought it back out to the front and back to him as you set it down on the counter.

"Meet Emily. She's cute and sweet and she says forever," you shot him a cheeky grin and he snorted, eyes darting from the plant to you.

"I'm sorry… Emily?" He asked with a smirk

"Hey, she's a living thing like you and me, why shouldn't she have a name? And don't tell the others but… she's my favourite," you whispered the last part, eyes darting to the beaded curtain like you didn't want the others to hear and when you looked back at him he was smiling and shaking his head at you.

"Look… flowers are great and all, a nice gesture and pretty to look at, but they wither and die. They go from pretty to morbid which is why they're great for special occasions but they don't last. But these cuties… they don't take much maintenance, it's hard to kill them and they're more… permanent. Flowers are a great way to say 'I love you' in a shorter sense, but nothing says 'I'll love you forever' more than one of these," you mused with a fond look at the plant.

The man stared at the plant for a moment appearing deep in thought and when you glanced to Gemma, she was grinning from ear to ear as she wrapped up the arrangement in pretty pale purple paper. A similar shade to your current hair color.

"Fuck it. I'll take… Emily, too," he declared after a moment. You beamed and slid the pot over to Gemma so she could pack her up with the rest of the goods and ring him up.

"You're good at this," the man said after a moment. You flushed a little at his words and snorted.

"I just care about the plants," you shrugged with a smile.

Gemma finished the wrapping and started ringing up the purchases as the man's eyes darted between you both.

"So… you two ladies got any plans later?" He asked casually. He didn't seem the type to make unnecessary small talk but Gemma opened her mouth to indulge him anyway.

"A few of us are going out later to the bar down the street. The Lizard? It's not been open that long but it's pretty chill. It's nothing fancy though," Gemma smiled softly as she accepted the money from him, opening the register.

"Fancy places wouldn't let us in," you snorted with a smirk, toying with one of the many rings on your fingers.

"They wouldn't let you in. Besides, they have good music there and they don't mind when we let loose and get a little weird," Gemma laughed. The man chuckled with a nod before glancing back at you. He still had that look of recognition in his eyes and you tried to think if you'd ever seen him before.

"Sounds like my kinda place. I might have to go with Karen and some friends sometime," he mused with a nod.

"You should, if you run into us let me know if she loves Emily. You've basically both adopted a cute earthy child so…" you grinned mischievously. He snorted, seemingly unaffected by you being yourself and you liked it. It wasn't often you got to talk to customers like this which is why you often stayed hidden in the back.

"I will. Have fun ladies and thanks for these," with that he was off and you and Gemma grinned at each other. It was nice to have a customer like that man, even if he did look completely out of place in a flower shop. You had a feeling he'd come back for more things for this Karen woman he was smitten with.

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Billy sipped his beer, dark gaze flitting around the bar before he settled on his best friend. Karen was leaning on his shoulder and the pair had been nauseatingly close since they got here. Curtis and David were also at the table relaxing and talking to one another.

"Is there a reason we're here?" Billy drawled as he sat back in his chair a little more. This wasn't their usual haunt and they didn't normally deviate from it. It wasn't so much that he didn't like the place. It was relaxed and quite similar to where they usually ended up. But it was a break in routine and he wasn't sure why.

Frank shot him a sly smirk as he sipped his beer and it made Billy narrow his eyes a little.

"Well… I have it on good authority that little Ms Aries is gonna be here," he said smugly. Billy hated himself the moment he sat up straighter like an eager schoolgirl, especially when his friends all cheered and laughed at the news. He'd only told Frank about her, but Frank being Frank… well he'd told Karen and Karen told Curtis and David and in three short days it had become a running joke that he was hung up on a girl he hadn't even been able to get the name of.

Billy tilted his head, long fingers tapping on the beer bottle as he levelled his gaze at Frank.

"And how would you know that when we don't even know who she is?" He asked with a raised brow. Frank had a shit eating grin on his face as he leaned forward on the table a bit.

"Because I found her at her work earlier," he grinned. Billy blinked at him for a moment, mouth floundering as he tried to absorb that tidbit.

"Okay… so as my best friend and therefore wingman, is there a reason you didn't mention it until now?" He asked dryly.

"Nah, I thought it would be a nice surprise and I didn't want you to talk yourself outta comin' here. Never seen you hung up on a girl before and I gotta say, she's a fuckin' riot," Frank snorted. Billy felt an unnecessary pang of envy at him then. Envy that his best friend managed to find her, spend some time with her maybe more than he had in the street. He knew it was stupid. His best friend was head over heels for Karen after all, but it was there all the same.

"She works at the flower shop," Karen supplied with a soft smile as she looped her arms around Frank's larger one. Great, so Frank told her before he told him. Did everyone but him know? Why he was feeling like a petulant child, he didn't know, but before he could open his mouth to no doubt say something ridiculous, Frank's sly grin widened as he inclined his head to the door.

Billy would lie until the day he took his last breath about how fast his head whipped to the door. He almost broke his damn neck. But there she was in all her purple haired glory and Jesus fuck was she the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. How did she get even more attractive in three days? Shit was ridiculous. But not as ridiculous at the nerves that bloomed in his belly at the sight of her. He was Billy Russo. Ex Spec Ops sniper. Former marine. CEO of Anvil. Serial womaniser. But now he was just Billy. Dumbfounded, actually kind of nervous and moon-eyed Billy.

He watched as she and another girl she came in with walked over to the table with a few people and hugged them. Her smile was radiant and his eye twitched when she hugged the guys at her table. He kept waiting like she'd lean in and kiss one of them. To feel that crushing blow. But it never happened. In fact, the girl she'd come in with snuggled up to the one of the guys and the other had his arm wrapped around another girl at the table.

"Well… you gonna go and get her name or what, Bill?" Frank asked with a snort. Billy cleared his throat, rolling his shoulder and glancing back to his beer before he shrugged.

"After my drink," he tried to sound casual but Frank's gaze softened a little and he hated that his best friend knew him better than anyone. He was just thankful Frank didn't call him out for it.

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You and Gemma had gotten to the bar a little later than usual because Gemma's cat snuck out the apartment and you'd had to hunt him down. He was cute but a menace but once he was back safe at home you'd both made a beeline for the bar. You had a few shots in quick succession to make up for the lost time and you weren't drunk but you felt the pleasant warmth spreading through you as you laughed and joked with your friends.

"Oh, I love this song, dance with me," you beamed, not giving Gemma a chance to protest as you grabbed her hand and moved a little from the table. It wasn't a club and there wasn't a dance floor but there was adequate space between the tables to dance. No one else was dancing but it was hardly the first time you and Gemma did this. It was always fun and amusing.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hers went around your waist as the pair of you giggled and swayed your hips. There were a few cat calls but it was all in jest. It was obvious you two were joking around by your over exaggerated movements and Gemma singing loudly and very off key, with your friends joining in the chorus. You loved your group of little weirdos.

You turned around in her arms, hands still around her neck from behind as you swung your hips, eyes closed and a smile on your face. But when you opened them, they landed right on Mr Handsome himself who was at a table with some others and he was staring at you with wide eyes and a small smile. A grin spread across your face as you continued to dance. You knew you'd see him again. You paid little attention to anyone else as your eyes locked with his and he sat up a little straighter as he noticed he had your attention.

You smirked, flashing him a cheeky wink as a call back to when you last met before you spun back around to face Gemma.

"So… the super hot guy over there in a maroon sweater? Looks like he's stepped right off of vogue? He's Coffee guy," you murmured giddily. Gemma didn't even hide the look she shot him before she laughed and looked back at you.

"First of all… wow. And second, he's like legit staring at you so hard right now," Gemma smirked.

You bit your lip with a smile as the song ended. Gemma gave you a hug before returning to her seat and then you made your way over to the bar and waited for the bartender so you could grab a beer.

"Can I get you a drink, astrology girl?" His smooth voice sent a shiver down your spine and you glanced over to where he was now standing next to you.

"Of course. Beer please, Coffee boy," you grinned cheekily at him. He chuckled, ducking his head as he waved over the bartender and asked for two beers.

"I told you we'd meet again," you murmured with a smirk, sipping the beer once it was placed in front of you.

"You did. Although I think my friend Frank had somethin' to do with that," he replied with a smile as he glanced over his shoulder. You followed his gaze to his table and saw the man from the flower shop. Your eyes widened as an incredulous laugh left your lips and you gave him a thumbs up. You heard his laugh from across the bar. The woman with him was smiling wide and also watching you both, as were the other two men at his table. You had a feeling if you glanced over at your own friends they'd be doing the same thing.

"So… do I get your name yet?" He asked, leaning his forearms on the bar. His shoulder brushed yours and it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through you. You glanced at him, a coy smile on your lips as you took another sip of beer. Your tongue darted out and swiped over your lower lip to catch a drop and you didn't miss how his dark eyes were drawn to the motion. It made your stomach clench.

"Y/N," you smiled softly. You couldn't help it, you'd have given him anything he asked right then with the way he was looking at you. His face brightened when you relinquished your name, his eyes crinkling a little as he grinned. His teeth are perfect. I want him to bite every inch of me with those things.

"Billy," he offered, raising his beer bottle. You grinned as you clinked yours with his and you both took a drink.

"I read some pretty interesting things about the sexual compatibility of an Aries and Scorpio," you murmured with a wry grin, nibbling your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes. He was so close to you and you could feel his warmth through the layers of both of your clothes. And he smelt good. It almost made you dizzy.

"Is that so?" He asked, dark eyes intent on you and only you. His voice was lower than before and you fought the urge to jump him right there. You flashed him a toothy grin, a mix of flirtatious and just plain impish that made him smile.

"Apparently we're a match made in sexual heaven," you teased softly.

You watched as he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. His almost black eyes felt like they were setting you on fire from the inside out with how heated his gaze was.

"Well now I gotta problem. Because I wanted to ask you on a date first but you're makin' it really hard for me to have any restraint," he purred. Shiiiiit. That tone alone would have you needing to change your panties when you got home.

You smirked, all sinful as you leaned into his ear, your hand going to his firm forearm. You heard his breathing hitch before you even said anything as your hot breath landed on his ear.

"I'd really like that date," you whispered with a saccharine smile. Honestly, you weren't known for your patience and you wanted nothing more than to drag him back to your place and fuck him until neither of you could walk again. But the idea of a date, of dragging it out a bit, it intrigued you. The man had lived rent free in your brain since you both collided three days ago and as much as it would kill you, you knew the wait would be worth it and only make it better.

You moved back a bit, your face still ridiculously close to his and he flashed you a devilish smile all of his own before he leaned down and kissed you. It was an intense kiss. Full of hunger and passion you'd never felt before and you didn't hesitate to kiss him back eagerly. There were some cat calls and you had a feeling a few came from your friends but you were hardly fazed by your brazen kiss with the most handsome man in the world.

When you broke away, you were both panting and you felt your cheeks flush a little at how he looked at you. There was definitely arousal there but he also looked slightly awestruck. You flashed him another grin before slurping some of your beer and he chuckled as he did the same.

You spent the next few hours sitting beside Billy at the bar as you got to know one another, all the little mundane details that really made up a person. You felt like you'd never get tired of looking at him, of hearing that smooth as silk voice or watching how expressive his face and eyes could be. And no matter what you said, whether it was embarrassing stories about your friends or about the plants at work, he acted like you'd just told him the best story ever. He was attentive and soaked up all of your words greedily. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel like this.

You left the bar that night after agreeing for him to pick you up at 8 the next night and exchanging numbers. You'd kissed him that time and it was full of as many promises as his kiss had been. And you didn't miss the way Frank clapped his back once he returned to his seat either. The wait would definitely be worth it.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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stellocchia · 4 years ago

Text

Alright, now that I got some sleep, time for an overly long analysis on Tommy’s second prison visit!

I’m only talking about character in the rp from here on out, not the cc’s unless explicitly stating otherwise

First of all, a clarification is in order: was it Dream’s plan from the very start to get put in prison to end up in this situation? No. Does this mean he couldn’t have caused this to turn things in his favour? Also no.

Dream has proven before that he’s a rather flexible character (kinda has to be with a nemesis like Tommy), he’s been put multiple times in unexpected situations and managed to come out of top. We don’t know if he expected L’Manburg to be reborn after the 16th, and yet he managed to have the whole cabinet wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t expect Tommy to threaten him with Spirit, and yet he spun it around on him. We also know he didn’t expect Tommy to leave Logsteshire (he was talking about it with Punz, it’s the reason he went to check on him shortly after because he realized he may have stepped too far and broken Tommy out of his manipulation there) which offered him the opportunity to frame him for the community house disaster later on.

He is nothing if not resorceful.

Another thing we have to discuss when talking about the visit is the themes of their relationship:

- Dream’s possessiveness/obsession

- The whole Dream finding Tommy “fun”

- Their “game”

More under the cut

- For the first point, when I say “possessivness” I mean that Dream literally regards himself almost as Tommy’s owner. Don’t believe me? Let’s talk about how he treats Tommy’s canon life then!

Remember all the way back during exile? To keep Tommy in line Dream consistently threatened to take his last life, implying that he would have been fine with Tommy dying, yet, as soon as Tommy showed signs of wanting to take his own life, Dream bust out the line “it’s not your time to die yet”, 2 times in fact. Why? Well, Dream wants control in all things, not only that, but he clearly thinks he’s in the right in wanting it. Of course the life of his favourite toy is no exception. Also let’s not forget about the terrifying scene on top of the obsidian grid where, when Tommy said that their story would be over soon, Dream immediately took control again assuring him it would never be over.

There is also Tommy explicitly stating that Dream was “borderline his owner”, in case we needed an additional affirmation, in the stream where Mexican Dream made an appearance in exile.

Also, I have to mention that during the first Prison visit Dream, when talking about what he missed, grouped Tommy together with “his stuff”... can’t get much clearer then that

- Dream’s describing Tommy as “Fun” has been a reoccurring creepy theme between them. But is it soley done out of manipulation or does Dream actually feel that way in his twisted world view? I’d say a bit of both to be honest.

Clearly there is a level of gaslighting with it were he used to say it at the very start of Tommy’s exile to get him in the frame of mind of considering Dream his friend and trying to convince him that they always had fun together (trying to get him to switch his anger from being directed at Dream to being directed at his old friends), but that’s not all.

Dream, in cutting all his known attachments, is left with only Tommy as an attachment, Jack is right on that one, which is the rason why his obsession seems so extreme. That said, it’s pretty obvious that he does sort of find his relationship with Tommy “fun”. It’s the reson why literally everyone else is a replaceable pawn, but Tommy isn’t. Don’t get me wrong here: he doesn’t see him as a human and, despite him “caring” in his twisted way, there is NOTHING healthy about their relationship. But it is still important to point out that Tommy is extremely important to Dream.

- Their game is something we’re all well aware of. They are regarded by so many people as the hero and the villain of the server, even though neither of them accepts their assigned role. That said they both view the other in the role assigned to them. Dream doesn’t see himself as a villain, but he does see Tommy as a hero and vice-versa. And, just like that, the stage for their “game” is set.

Only problem? Only one of them is playing the game. We know this from the season 2 finale: the reason Dream kept coming down and trusting Tommy was because he thought Tommy was as attached to their “game” as he was, but he was wrong. Tommy HAS other attachments, plenty of them, he’s not dependent on Dream and that’s also probably why Dream is so obsessed with him in the first place: everyone else is predictable, easy to use. They aren’t surprising, they aren’t “fun” (remember that? Remember Dream goning “Tubbo isn’t fun” when Tommy said he had as much value as himself? Because I sure do) they are boring pawns.

You’d think he may think differently of someone like Techno but, despite him acknowledging his strenght, he has no reason to think he won’t be able to use him every time at the smallest promise of violence as it worked every time before. George and Sapnap? When’s the last time Dream showed them he cared in any way? He used them time and time again and then left them behind when the relationships required work on his side to mantain. He didn’t even speak to Sapnap during his visit! He regards Quackity as barely an annoyance (remember what history left on him in the Lost City of Mizu? Just a Fool). Punz and Sam were both people he paid, only means to an end. They ALL played his game and followed his rules, which is what made them predictable. It's what makes them so replaceable.

Now that the themes are established, let’s move on to the analysis of the visit itself!

First of all: big foreshadowing from Sam with the missing books (which Tommy admitted to not remembering the content of) and from Tommy saying how much he trusted and appreciated Sam. It doesn’t have much to do with the analysis, but we all pointed it out.

That said, what was Tommy’s objective with this visit? Closure. Tommy wanted to make their game finally stop for good, he wanted to reclaim the control over his life that he hasn’t had for a while now. Not over his literal last life nor over hid day to day life. Both used to be controlled by Dream.

Dream “loosing” his clock is the first information we learn. But, remember during Bad’s visit when Bad convinced Sam to give Dream one last chance to get his clock back if he behaved? And then again with Sapnap? Dream wanted the clock to go, that’s why he kept burning it despite the warnings. Why? Could it be that he was planning to get someone to stay with him in there? Isolation affects you much harder when you’re not aware of the passage of time after all...

“That’s the Tommy I know!” from the start of the visit Dream is trying to re-establish their “bond” and get Tommy in the mindset of them being “friends” again. I mean, it’s not a coincidence that he’s never been this talkative or friendly in any of the visits from other people.

Other point in favour of Dream having planned this long stay is the sheer number of potatoes he had stored. Also, may I add that he immediately started giving them to Tommy? He started before the tnt and explosions, before he should have known Tommy was gonna stay. He never did this before during any of the visits we’ve seen. Establishing his role as provider again like back in exile I see...

Dream also started immediately demanding for Tommy to visit him more, but Tommy does turn it down just as quickly by explaining that that would be the last visit (if Dream wasn’t planning to act this time, he changed his mind in this moment. He’s very adaptable remember? And his main accomplice was online...). Of course, Dream isn’t happy about it.

We already established that Tommy is the only one he finds “fun” (as far as we know), having him stopping visitations entirely wouldn’t be good for Dream. There is also the fact that Tommy is deciding to move on on his own. It’s Tommy’s choice under Tommy’s complete control and Dream has already shown he’s not too kin on that being a thing.

“Anything you want to say to me now, you have to say to me now, because I’m not visiting you again” “Why?” I’m highlighting this piece of dialogue because I think it’s pretty indicative of Dream still being convinced that they’re both still playing the game. Sure, Tommy outplayed him for now, but the game is not over, is it? Tommy can’t just decide to drop him can he? They both have so much “fun” after all...

Of course though, to Tommy the “why” should be obvious. Because of Dream he’s struggling with severe ptsd. He’s afraid of plains biomes, of lava, of heights to a certain degree, of black stone (both because of the Attachments vault and the Final Control Room on this one), of tnt, of small holes (big enough to drop your items in as he said), of giving up his stuff and of Dream acting Friendly. Dream hurt him a great deal to the point were he’s not managing to settle down even now, he’s still afraid. How can Dream not see how he hurt him? How can he not understand? In Tommy's mind it just doesn't make sense.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (had to add this because it was just funny... why are there always bloopers with this 2?)

Potatoes again. Again the tnt had not started to go off yet. And Tommy eats them again immediately, of course. I can’t stress this enough, but this is done again to re-establish the dependency tommy had on Drem during exile. While he didn’t entirely depend on dream for food (he barely ate and he had Mushroom Henry), he used to be entirely dependent on him for protection, getting to the point where he would hardly defend himself from the mobs when they attacked him even when Dream wasn't around. Of course Dream can’t provide “safety” while he’s in prison, so he has to find something else.

“You had all this shit coming” “I did but... you know... maybe one day” “No! Have you seen this prison? It’s kind of the most secure thing ever” They are talking about two different things here. Dream is implying that, maybe, they’ll let him out in the future while Tommy, having already decided to move on and not worry about Dream anymore, is implying that the only way Dream is getting out is if he manages to escape, which he won’t. Quite different from the first visit were Tommy showed quite a bit of hesitance when asked if he would ever let Dream out.

“Unless you have extreme therapy” Tommy recognizing the importance of therapy I see! No, but, more importantly, this goes to show that Tommy is moving on from his exclusively vengful mindset he had at the start (which was more then understandable, btw). At the start of this visit he said he didn’t think that Dream deserved to die anymore and now he’s recognizing that he needs help, Tommy however also knows he’s not the one who should be helping him, he can’t. Still, he’s empathizing with him, because he can’t help doing so. Despite everything, Tommy always tends to see others as their own individuals, even when the same is often not true in reverse.

“I mean exile wasn’t that bad... right? I mean, we hung out” again, tying it back to the themes in their relationship, this fits so well. Of course exile wasn’t that bad, right? After all: why would Tommy have needed anyone else when he had his Best Pal Dream? And here’s the thing: we can’t know how much of what Dream says is just manipulation and how much of it he believes, but Dream has shown enough signs of being dependent on Tommy as his only attachment that we can assume there is, at the very least, some level of truth in this. I mean, if you remember back when he blew up Logstedshire, he didn’t even wanna believe that Tommy was suicidal. Tommy told him directly, but was dismissed. Why? Not because Dream wasn’t extremely opposed to him taking his own life, he’d already shown that not to be the case. Perhaps because he actually didn’t think it was that bad? Maybe he didn't want to admit he pushed him too far? Did he actually view himself and Tommy to be Dream’s own twisted version of “friends”? It’s a possibility and it’s what this visit seems to imply.

“When I’m around you I feel like my brain is conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart... you don’t make me a good person!” This seems to be a rather recurrent theme with Tommy and the mentor figures in his life. Wilbur trying to convince him (albeit not managing to) to just blow it all up and give in to his aggressive nature. Techno wanting to “bring him to the side of evil” and making him more violent in the process. Now we have confirmation that Dream himself makes him lash out more (though we could see this already when he was in exile in how he lashed out at Jack Manifold without the latter having done anything to deserve it). There is also the confusion to point out. While Tommy is trying to move on he’s clearly in no way “healed”, he’s still very much suffering from the consequences of Dream’s abuse and manipulation. He still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about him because, despite everything, he feels compelled not to hate him entirely.

“You’re a bad guy” “Well I did bad things, but everyone thinks they’re right from their perspective” “That’s not true” I haven’t seen almost anyone talk about this exchange, but it’s such an important one! As we said, Tommy views Dream as a villain, Dream doesn’t (he admits to having done bad things, but not to being bad because of them). Dream also sees Tommy as a hero, but Tommy doesn’t (Tommy doesn’t even view himself as “the good guy” in his own story, which ties in to his big self worth problems). It’s an interesting dynamic to be sure.

“Well I think I’m right. I did bad things, but I did them for good reasons” “What good reasons?” “I wanted to bring the server together you know? Make it a big happy family” This is the second time Dream brings up unity as his ultimate goal (the first being with Punz). Of course we know that the “unity” he wants it’s under his complete control. It’s not an objective that we can see as positive, but he does, or, at least, if he’s telling the truth about it, he may actually believe in it. Now, while this is the second time he brought up “unity” directly he did also strongly imply in the season 2 finale that that was his intention when explaining he was doing everything to get the server to “how it used to be”, back in the idealized past with no conflicts that never existed. Dream is deluded in the literal sense of the word, I would say it’s pretty probable there is at least some truth in his declared objective (truth in the form of him actually believing the bs he spews).

At this point Tommy is done. He’s drawing an end to the visit and Dream started getting more frantic. He started insisting on how he’s “changing” and insisting for Tommy to go visit him again. Ngl, I think this was probably to buy time for his accomplice (who is very possibly enderwalk!Ranboo) to get there. Because, if he let Tommy go, their game would truly be over, and Dream can’t stand that.

And cue the explosions!

So: Dream managed to buy enough time and, by the prison's protocols, Tommy is now stuck with him up to 7 days. He can’t leave which means Dream gets another chance to force him into continuing their game.

Quite a few people pointed it out, but, from this point onwards, Dream gets much more assertive and controlling in his demeanor. He drops the whole “insecure” act that he had going on in his enunciation and general behaviour and goes back to being like the old Dream (you would almost think that all that talk about “having changed” was just absolute bs, though he keeps insisting on it throughout)

Tommy’s behaviour also changes. He gets much more paniked (no doubt a combination of way too many of his triggers being present at once) and pliant. He starts calling out for Sam and asking to be let out but, of course, that doesn’t happen as Sam has to take care of the security breach first and foremost.

Dream starts immediately harping on Tommy being stuck there (probably to increase his panic, as he's easier to influence when he's distressed), first pointing out how “Sam can’t hear him” and then that the tnt must indicate a “security problem” (which he then explains he knows the consequences of because he wrote the book). By now he’s dropped his meek act entirely and he’s showing to be much more smug and self assured (a big contrast with Tommy having a very obvious panic attack). As we already said: he got what he wanted, he basically won already. All he needs to do now is get Tommy back to how he used to be in exile (”when they had fun” in Dream’s words...).

At this point there is only one question left to be answered: Why did he do all of this? How does this benefits dream?

Clearly this didn’t help him to get out. The security may actually increase because of it. Right? Well...

“I mean... if you want a way to get out, let’s get out together! We can work it out, we can-” “Fuck off” “Then there is no way out” I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, perhaps, Dream may know a way to get out provided 2 people cooperate on it. Tommy wouldn’t help him yet, but, who knows what he may do after spending way too much time locked in a small room, with a lava fall on the side and Dream to top off the list of his worst nightmares...

“Are you trying to get out?” “I’m not trying to get out, I’m not trying to get out!” a bit of a contradiction here, considering he proposed getting out together like 2 minutes before (coupled with his insistence on “one day...”)... however “I’m not trying to get out (yet)” may be a way to interpret his words more truthfully. If he just needed an accomplice to get out, he would have probably used Ranboo, but there is something else he wants as well...

(btw, potatoes AGAIN multiple times, especially every time Tommy is particularly distressed, and Dream also brings up Tommy being on his last canon life again in the context of this being “just like exile”... man do be trying hard with those parallels...)

You see, he already told us that he still sees his objective as good. He still wants control. He still wants his game to go on. And there is one person he elected to be the key to everything...

“I’m telling you you’re stuck in here for a little while with me, were we can bond, we can talk, just like old times, right? You know... just like exile” “Tommy this is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got in this prison, because now we can be company, we can stay together!” “Fine, fine, you’re done with me in a couple days, when you get out of here” “Tommy it’s not that bad! We can- we have lot’s of time to bond” Ngl... something tells me his other objective is very obvious... and we talked about it to death by now. But, in case it wasn't clear to someone, he wants to get back what (or who in his case) he considers to be his most cherished possession (again, do NOT interpret this as a "good" thing. It isn't. Dream literally treats Tommy as his toy, it isn't healthy and I've seen way too many people in chat trying to imply otherwise and calling it "cute". It's not cute, it's abuse)

“Tommy you’re stuck in here with me wether you like it or not, ok?! Wether you like it or not you’re in here with me for a WHILE, we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna have lot’s of fun” I just wanted to point out again how much Dream’s demeanor changed from the start now that he’s back in control. He’s not asking Tommy to talk to him, he’s not giving him a choice in it. Tommy already said how he doesn’t wanna talk and “get to know him better”, but that doesn’t matter. He has no power anymore. He doesn’t have the power to leave NOR the power to ignore Dream, as much as he wants to. Also, after this, Dream seriously ramps up the whole “We’re gonna have so much fun!” shtick...

And you want to know the saddest part of the ending? Tommy is already cracking (honestly, not surprising. He’s been through WAY too much by now...)

He started asking Dream for confirmation of whether all of this was “serious” (just like he needed to ask if things were real back in exile... or generally Dream’s opinion on everything). He also asked for more potatoes in a dejected tone (I know it may not seem that serious, but, as I said, it is just another way to create the dependency that Dream wants), showing a beginning of acceptance for Dream’s role as provider once again. Together with the very obvious “I can’t do this” and the black screen right after it creates a very worrying picture.

In conclusion: Dream is already dependant on Tommy, but the opposite not being true was a big part of his downfall. So, before he can get out, he has to work on getting Tommy back to exile!Tommy only this time he’ll be even more careful not to do some dumb mistake probably...

As anxious as I am to see how this will develop I do also think it’s one of the most interesting outcomes they could have had!

Also can we please take a moment to appreciate how WELL cc!Dream anc cc!Tommy manage to handle this incredibly serious scenes? Like, they bounce off of each other perfectly and, as someone who’s done theater themselves, I cannot commend them for managing to do so well in IMPROV enough!

They are honestly so great! Let’s get some serious love and appreciation for them to close on a positive note!

Also @mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw manipulation #exile arc #dream smp #Dream smp spoilers #long post #my post #analysis #relationship analysis #this is the sequel to rapunzel where she's stuck on the tower with mother goethel #I can't imagine it ending well...

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Latibule

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks & hypochondria, adult language, eventual SMUT

Words: 9790

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hi. this is my first real foray into the world of Haikyuu!! & i’m so excited to branch into this fandom! if this is your first time reading my stuff imma warn you, i take things slow, so expect some slow burn.

this will be a multi-chapter fic with eventual NSFW/18+ only content. i will post warnings for each update. i’ll also link other chapters on this page and any other pages that come up, so keep in mind that there will be edits to links as things progress - i wasn’t planning on this being anything more than a one-shot, but this first exploration of Sakusa’s character turned into a monster & i wanna really hone in on that sweet, sweet build up.

big, huge shoutout to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions. y’all are amazing and i love you both so much, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without the two of you.

Latibule /lat-i-bule/ noun a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort

pt. i: an opening

[ pt. ii: four set ] ||

It’s a quiet coffee shop.

He likes that about it. He likes it almost as much as the simple fact that he can tell what day of the week it is by the smell of the disinfectant and bleach that’s being used behind the counter.

There’s a strange comfort to this place’s consistency and Kiyoomi Sakusa likes to linger here, propping his MSBY issued volleyball bag beside his usual table. He’s already placed his coffee order with the cheerful man who guards the cash register, watching as his paper cup is marked with a fresh sharpie and placed on the bartop, beside the elbow of that barista who always attentively turns to wash her hands before making each new order.

He had stumbled upon the shop his senior year of college and he’s haunted it ever since, content to sip on a smooth cortado as he watches over the latest plays from the MSBY games, mapping out his overestimations, his successes, and his flukes in his notebook– carefully lined kanji listing out what worked and what needs some extra practice. The caramel sweet flavor of the ristretto shots always helps to relax him, his broad shoulders lowering, the ache of self-induced tension and overworked muscles easing as his drink cools between his fingers, finally sinking fully into the plush leather seat of his clean chair.

The young woman, he should know your name, but he’s never caught a proper glimpse of your name tag, because you’re always moving, gives him a familiar lifting of smooth lips and places his completed drink on the handoff plane. You know his personal preferences well enough that you’re already moving the caddy of lids and cardboard sleeves forward, so he can select his own from the neatly stacked row. He gives you a cursory nod and his calloused fingertips pull the frothy beverage into his hands, cupping the curved sides and taking a deep drag of air through his masked nose, inhaling the bright smell of fresh coffee.

And…vines…or is it a tangy pine?

There’s something else that’s tickling his senses, and he blinks toward you, dark brows knitting together, a misplaced curl of inky hair brushing against his forehead, trying to make sense of the smell. His chin lifts and his head tilts, eyes watching your polished movements as you move onto the next drink in line. It’s definitely got some floral notes, but it’s not cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle or gooseberry–no, it’s got some kind of balmy spice to it. It returns when you move closer and he swears he can taste summer when you shift back.

Odd.

When you look up at him again, he’s already stepping away, his running shoes squeaking across the slate tiles, making his way back to his bag and table. The aroma of your perfume is half forgotten when he cracks his laptop open, squirting some hand sanitizer across his chapped palms before he starts to clack his fingertips across the dark keys. He needs to get more lotion; he thinks as the sterile solution cools between his splayed fingers, this weather always dries his skin out.

The next time he comes in he spies you at the back of the shop, jotting something down in a large binder before kneeling behind the counter, returning with a sparkling, grated drain top. The white gleams under the accented lighting and he watches as you thumb at the paint, denoting a splotch of rust that rests under the dip of the metal. You return the cover to the ground and immediately twist to the hand washing sink that rests behind the bar, lathering up some dispensed soap and methodically stroking from the tips of your fingers to your wrists. A steady puff of steam is rising around you as he places his order–

[ a oat milk smoothie, with an extra scoop of protein powder, chia seeds, turmeric, kale, cucumber, dash of dates for sweetener ]

and by the time he’s paid and padding toward his usual spot, you’re finishing up, yanking a few disposable paper towels from the overhead dispenser and gingerly drying your damp hands.

He’s seen you wash your hands plenty of times before, but he finds himself distractedly following your movements this afternoon as he waits for his order and his computer to finish booting up. You catch his obsidian eyes when you turn around and give him a brief smile; a flash of teeth peeking through your lips before you move back to your binder. You jot down a few more notes as you move onto the fridges that sit under the countertops, pulling and prying at the gaskets that line the doors of the whirring chillers, speaking softly to a fellow employee, pointing out the missed stains and chipped flecks of ice that like to hide within the folds of the protective plastic.

You’re not overbearing in your coaching, keeping your tone even and friendly, focusing on what can be done going forward, rather than lingering on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why wasn’t’ of the situation.

Practical, efficient, thorough with your work, and careful with your craft.

Those descriptors float to the forefront of his mind as he takes his smoothie from the barista that’s standing beside you. He lets his gaze hold against your half leaning form, watching the lead tip of your pencil mark over the stark red checklist that you’re working your way down.

He’s not sure why he’s so focused on you. He’s never thought much about you. You’ve been someone that exists in the background, part of his routine to be sure, but he justifies that your attention to detail is likely the reason why he prefers this shop to the dozens of other coffee houses that litter the main street by the MSBY training facilities and stadium. Your head shifts, and he can tell you can feel his gaze, so he swiftly plucks up his icy cold cup, his nose involuntarily trying to seek out that perfume you’d been wearing the other day.

Strange. His brow furrows, and he hunches into his sports jacket, walking back to his chair and his glowing computer. He can’t smell it today. Maybe you’re too far away, or perhaps you’d forgotten to put it on before coming in.

Pity. He’d liked it.

“Running a little late today, I see,” your voice snaps him out of his stupor, onyx eyes lifting to rest against your open expression.

“Kind of,” he replies blandly, his deep cadence muffled by the pull of his mask.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late! Want me to push your drink to the front of the queue? I’ve got the power to do that, you know,” you tease, tilting your head as a mischievous grin settles over your quirked lips. Kiyoomi blinks impassively down at you and shakes his head. How would he even reply to something like that? You were joking, right? You must be. And if you weren’t, the people who are clustered around the handoff plane would certainly realize that he was being given his drink first, clearly ahead of all of theirs, and they’d probably toss him a few disgruntled stares or mouthy jabs, and likely accuse you of playing favorites.

Wait. Favorites?

Does he count as a ‘favorite’ here? He looks away, lips drooping into a pursed line. You’ve always been…nice…but there’s no way he’s a favorite of yours. He’s hardly spoken to you in the year and a half that he’s been coming here. But is that all it takes? Just take up space in the cafe a few times a week and get special treatment?

No. You must be joking.

All the same, your jovial tone and that welcoming smile is a little intriguing.

He shuffles closer to the heat of the espresso machines, easily lifting his head over the lip of the bronze metal, watching you. You’re looking down now, fingers gripping the dark handle of the portafilter, holding it under the buzzing grinder to gather a fine sprinkle of dusky espresso grounds into the waiting basket. Then, you lift a lustery tamp to the heaping mound and press expertly against the delicate remains of the arabica, packing them to an even level before clamping the filter under the display of the machine. When you flick the switch that activates the group head you must sense his stare and lift your eyes to his, eyelashes momentarily fluttering against your cheeks when you spy his unabashed observations of you.

For a second, your hands falter, trapped within the unexpected intensity of his curious gaze, and you pat blindly for the cup that’s sitting to the right of your curled arms, embarrassingly disarmed by his transparent focus. But once your grip wraps around the waiting plastic, it seems to ground you and you let out a huffing chuckle, eyes crinkling up at his half obscured face.

“I’m only kidding about moving your drink up, don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, it’s against our policy. First come, first serve and whatnot,” you assure him, halting the stream of water that’s pouring the carefully timed flow of espresso into the clear shot glass that’s waiting against the gleaming metal of the drip tray.

“You’re busy today,” he notes, jerking his curly head toward the gaggle of college students sprawled across some of the bigger tables, their laughing voices and overly loud conversations easily drowning out the hum of lofi jazz that’s playing from the recessed speakers.

“Ah, yeah, finals are coming up for a lot of us that go to the university. I know my classes are starting to gear up for that last push and sometimes you just need a pick me up and coffee is great for that. We also get a big boost from the smoothies and frappes that we sell in the afternoons, so we get a little packed. Most of our sales happen during the weeks leading up to finals and midterms, uh, anyways, not that you asked for an economic lesson on a small cafe’s profit margins.”

“You’re a student?” he asks, head dipping back, eyes glittering in the lights. Wait. How old are you? Not that he can boast any sort of seniority on that front, he’s only 24 after all, but you just seemed, hmm, more mature? He didn’t picture you as a co-ed. Not that he’s actively picturing you when he’s not here. Well, he is a little recently, but you’ve always felt sort of timeless? Ageless? Is that the right term? You give off an air of confidence. So he’d assumed that you were older than him. Not in a bad way, in fact he’d sort of like it if you were. Why, that is, he’s not willing to look too deeply into, at least, not right now. Maybe later, when he gets back home and can…oh, you’re talking again.

“I’m a graduate student, but not for much longer. I’m finishing up my dissertation this week! Thank God. This semester has been the pits, I’m so ready for a break!” You sound genuinely happy and he can smell that faint aroma of your perfume each time you move.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, unsure if you’d heard him since you’re stepping away from the machines that he’s posted himself behind. He watches you set up two steaming drinks, topping them with a lazy swirl of silky, housemade, whipped cream, a crosshatch drizzle of caramel, carefully snapping a set of black plastic lids on top, before calling out the handwritten names and handing them off to their respective owners. Then you’re back, hands already unhooking the portafilter, knocking out the used espresso pucks into the trash and bringing him back to that spicy smell of summer that sits on your skin.

“Haha, it’s a little early for a congratulations. Don’t jinx me, will’ya? But seriously, thanks, that’s nice of you to say,” you continue, flowing easily back into this half-hearted conversation he’s accidentally struck up with you. He winces at that thought and dips his hands deeper into his jacket, hunching his shoulders into a habitual slouch that he instinctively imposes upon himself when he’s out in public.

“You want a lid?” you question over the hiss of the machine, and he lifts his head, finding your bright eyes through the misting remains of the cleared steam wands.

“No.” His response is clipped, and he gulps down a sudden burst of hazy anxiousness when someone brushes past him, jostling him closer to the low wall that divides the bartop from the cafe floor. He braces himself against the warming top of the machine, his large palm steadying himself, shoulders caving forward, his dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring his face further. He clenches his jaw, a scowl blooming over his lips.

His social anxiety isn’t anything new, and it’s likely exacerbated by the bustle of the nearby college students, who seem to be getting louder by the second. The noise is needling under his skin. He starts his carefully ingrained breathing exercises, tugging in a deep stream of air through his flared nostrils.

But the smell is coffee is too overwhelming and suddenly his ritual doesn’t help much.

He can feel blood leaving his fingertips and toes, or as his cousin Komori puts it [ the inescapable dread of some imagined ailment, which is making him think that his body is rushing blood from his extremities to his vital organs, his fingertips cold, hands shaking, when in reality ‘you’re just feeling unsure of yourself, man. It’ll be ok in a minute, promise!’ ]

But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone calls it, or how they think he should feel during these heart pounding moments, he just knows that he wants to get out of here, now.

His agitation must have twisted the top half of his expression because the feel of your warm fingertips against his wrist jerks him out of his head, causing him to suck in an unsteady breath as he lurches backwards, pulling away from your offending touch.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think…I just…” you bite your lip, a look of stark worry passing over your usually open features. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you…are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, teeth clenched, right leg bouncing in place against the tiles. Shit. It’s not like he could have predicted that you’d try to touch him, so you can’t really blame him for his misplaced reaction. Just get him his coffee and he’ll be on his way…

Come on…come on…

“Here you go. Sorry for the wait, Sakusa,” you lift on your tiptoes, the stretch of your legs and arms apparent as you hold his cup out, careful to balance yourself against the lever of the steam wand. He takes the proffered drink and nods his thanks at you, his gaze dark. The gesture might be a little strained, and he knows you likely think he’s some kinda freak at this point, but he’s glad to see your customary smile before he turns, shouldering his way out the door and into the promise of open air.

“Stop being so secretive about this place. It’s not like you can’t search for it online, Omi Omi. I saw you come in with the logo of their shop last week and I wanna try it out. Don’t cha’ gimme that look, I deserve to have good coffee too! And if it’s close by you can’t just keep it to yourself! Think about the rest of us, huh? Besides, I think they’d like to see something other than yer’ prickly face every once in a while.” Golden haired Atsumu Miya, his fellow teammate and setter for the MSBY Black Jackals, has been walking beside him for five blocks, jabbering on about the bland offerings of the big box coffee chains that surround their home gym, and how he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in days. Tch, he’d said months originally, but that was an obvious lie. After all, Kiyoomi pointed out, slipping his mask on before the two stepped into the strong midday sun, he’d come in with an iced coffee two days ago, proclaiming to the whole team it was the best he’d ever had, bar none.

“It’s a small shop,” Kiyoomi glumly elaborates, his dark hair soaking up the rays of sunlight as they crossed the bustling pedestrian walkway. “I think it’s run by an American. The staff speaks English, besides Japanese. There’s one barista in particular, a young woman, she has–”

“English? Oh, hell yeah! I can practice! This is perfect! They got any specialty drinks? I couldn’t see any from the menu that they had online, but I told ‘Samu I’d send him a picture of the place.”

Hmph, what’s the use of bothering to hold a conversation with this guy, Kiyoomi thinks, obsidian eyes narrowing as his brows furrow over his scrunched face, watching Atsumu chatter on about the vague sampling that he’d seen on their website. He’s not listening, anyway.

The coffee shop bell dings as the two of them step into the space, greeted by a waft of freshly ground coffee and the sharp tang of disinfectant. “Ahhh,” Atsumu says, propping his hands on his trim hips and fixing Kiyoomi with a pointed look, “totally see why you like the place. It smells like they have a freaking bleach, whaddya call those, ah, an air freshener! Yeah, smells like they have an ‘eu de bleach’ wall plug in.”

“It’s clean,” Kiyoomi affirms, his own hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around his wallet as he steps into the line. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all,” Atsumu grins, resting an arm on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as he glances over the chalkboard menu. “Just can tell that must be why you like this place so much. Bet you huff cleaner as soon as you get home.. Speaking of, I still need to see your new apartment, heard you let Ushijima come by and that’s not fair at all. Kinda– ow! Omi, ya’ friggin ass!”

Kiyoomi jerked his arm upwards as he stepped toward the register and the abrupt displacement sent Atsumu’s hand flying up, managing to perfectly strike himself on his nose as he attempted to counterbalance his sudden shift in momentum.

“HA-ah, ahem, I mean…hello! Nice to see you again, sir!” the barista calls out, poorly concealing his mirth at Atsumu’s fumbling behind a gloved hand. Kiyoomi nods curtly, his order on the tip of his lips, but before he can utter anything Atsumu is beside him again, leaning against the well lit pastry case and peering over his options critically.

“Hmm, ya’ got any of those little madeline cakes? They’re vanilla, kinda look like a shell? Saw em’ on yer’ website.”

The barista gives Atsumu a broad grin and twists to talk with someone who’s below the arched dome of the food case, quietly asking a few questions before looking back at the blonde man. “Yeah, we do! We’re actually just putting them out, my manager is checking for the–”

Atsumu steps impossibly closer to the gleaming glass and pops his head over the dome, peering down at whoever is restocking the sweets. “Oh! Hey there!” he chirps, lowering his chin, his face pulling into an exaggerated, cocky smirk. “Ya’ know what I mean, right? It’s kinda like a cake, but it’s small, like a cookie. It’s French. No, it’s not that. Maybe on the next tray? What? I can’t hear ya’. It’s smaller. I can step around, see if–”

A familiar voice pipes up before Atsumu can move closer and Kiyoomi turns, ears instantly pricking up at the sound of your reply. “I said, I know what a madeline is, sir. I’m rearranging and organizing my cart at the moment and, if you’d like, you can order your drinks first. I’ll have the madeline waiting for you on the other side of the bar.”

“Lemme just see one,” Atsumu grins, resting his hands against the glass. Kiyoomi’s lips curl at the sight, watching Atsumu’s hands leave lingering prints behind. Great, now they’ll need to clean and re-polish the display. Besides, you’d said you had them. Why keep pushing the issue? Ugh. If he wasn’t regretting his decision to show his fellow teammate the shop before, he certainly is now.

“Just wanna make sure we’re on the same page, is all. Ya’ might give me something else by mistake and that’s a waste of time for both of us!” Atsumu’s smile broadens, a shadowed look falling over his angular features.

You hop up from your crouched position, a wrapped package with bright blue lettering that clearly says [ French Vanilla Madeline ] on the side, clutched between your fingers. “Oh no, I get it,” you begin, mimicking Atsumu’s cheshire grin with startling accuracy. “You just want to double check! I mean, the words on the packaging do say: Madeline. So unless you mean something else, something that’s not called ‘A French vanilla madeline, made with real vanilla extract and buttery goodness,’ I think we’ve got you covered.”

Your voice is saccharine sweet, lilting over the words, a well-practiced smile lifting your lips. You’re still clearly mirroring the one Atsumu is giving you. It’s the snappiest your tone has ever been, and the fact that it’s being used against his annoying teammate is priceless. Suddenly, he can’t help the laugh that’s already snickering its way past his mask.

“Oi!” Atsumu cries, pushing himself off the case at last, his teeth gritted at Kiyoomi’s obvious amusement. “I just wanted to check! And you, manager lady, don’t be so mean!”

“Pfft, manager lady? It’s (Y/N). And me? Mean? I was not mean, I told you that we had them! I just needed to FIFO some of the other pastries first,” you defend, a surprised exhale falling from your lips.

“FIFO? What is that? Don’t use that food jargon on me! I get that enough from my brother. He does that crap all the time, like it’s some sorta secret lingo. ‘Don’t do that ‘Tsumu, gotta make sure it’s in date’. ‘Don’t come on the line!’ ‘Gotta wear a hat or a hair net if yer’ gonna be back here!’ ‘Don’t mislabel the rice!’ On and on. What’s with you food people? So uptight. Look, I just wanted to try one. Yer’ reviews said they were good! Here, tell you what, give me two. Don’t laugh! Omi, help! She’s picking on me!”

“Stop it, you’re making a scene. Any other inane questions? Or anything else you’d like to order, because I’m certainly not buying any of this for you,” Kiyoomi replies, sneaking a glance at your bemused expression. You catch his eye and give him a quick wink and he finds that his smile stays with him long after he, and a chastened and satiated Atsumu have left the warmth of the coffee shop.

“Mmm, these are pretty good,” Atsumu mumbles between bites of his madeline. “Ya’ want some?”

He stops by after his evening practice, when the sun has long since fallen past the horizon of the city, but as soon as he rounds the corner he regrets his decision.

The cafe is brimming with people. They’re everywhere; outside, they are clustered on the pavement, sitting on the collection of iron wrought chairs, and gathered in groups. Inside, most are sprawled close to the hand off plane, or draped over the couches and tables. They appear to be animated, with computer screens and voices bright, too bright. His usual spot is taken, and he’s already made up his mind to keep walking on but somehow, somehow, he catches your eye.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

“Hey! Glad I could catch you. Wanted to tell you good luck on your upcoming game! I think I saw on the news that it’s tomorrow? Right?”

“Yes, we’re playing Azuma Pharmacy. They have a good starting lineup. It’s entirely possible that we’ll lose.”

“Jeez,” you exhale, cocking your head at his serious expression. “Kind of a pessimist, aren’t you?”

“I’m a realist. I’m perfectly prepared to beat them, but things always play out differently on the court, no matter what your personal expectations are.”

You give him another smile. This one comes quickly, and it’s bigger than any of the others, the pull of it lighting up your face. It’s different, and he can tell that the way you’re looking at him has shifted; that you’ve liked this answer. He’s not sure why, it’s the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Good point. Well, win or lose, you’ve got my luck! I better get back inside. Your drink is on me by the way, for the other day…when I touched your hand…well, I’m sure you remember. Anyway, see you, Sakusa!”

He watches you slip past the packed lines of students, already rolling up your sleeves so you can wash your hands. Once you’re behind the espresso machine you’re hidden by the burnished copper and he walks on, shouldering his MSBY bag higher, lifting his coffee to his lips. It’s got a rich flavor, well balanced and expertly poured. Once again, he’s reminded that you’re good at what you do and, despite the balmy heat of early spring, that makes his fingers tingle and his skin break out in gooseflesh.

Later, when he’s falling asleep, he keeps seeing your eyes. Watching as your colored irises come alive in the moonlight, hopeful, shining, and wholly focused on him.

At practice, Atsumu insists on completing his post workout stretching next to him. He’s used to Kiyoomi’s sullen silences and barbed retorts, content to chatter however he pleases, flitting from topic to topic as he eases into his cool down routine.

“I need to go back to that coffee shop. Ya’ been back lately?”

“No,” Kiyoomi lies, brushing a stubborn wave of curls out of his sweaty face.

“Too bad. Maybe after Friday’s practice? That girl really knew her stuff. Made some great coffee, too. What was her name? Ah, that’s right, (Y/N). She’s cute, what’s her story?”

Something twinges against Kiyoomi’s rib cage at the word ‘cute.’ Hmm, that’s not normal. He flips to his left side, facing away from Atsumu’s greedy eyes and leering smiles.

“How long has she worked there?”

“Not sure,” Kiyoomi replies, flattening his palm against the cool flooring of the gym. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“That other barista said she was a manager. She’s not one of the owners, is she?”

“Dunno.”

“Is she a student? Kinda strange to see an American working in Japan, and she’s definitely an American. She’s good with the Japanese, but her accent is off.”

“Your accent is off, so I’m not sure what your point is. I can understand her, and I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jackass!” Atsumu snaps, flopping up from his splayed stretch to butterfly his muscled legs. “It’s called a regional accent, and it’s perfectly normal. Ya’ got one too, city boy!”

“See? No one says things like that. You sound like a cartoon character. Sometimes I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Yer’ full of it!”

“Hmph,” Kiyoomi hums, curling himself onto his haunches and flattening the tops of his hands against the floor. The satisfying crunch of his wrists as his fingers settle makes Atsumu visibly shudder and Kiyoomi flashes him a quick smirk of his own, hoping it will spook his stretching companion enough that he’ll leave him be. He prefers to do his cool down in silence.

“She do anything else? Other than diligently slaving over yer’ coffee, that is?”

Tch. It seems that luck isn’t with him today. “She said she’s a graduate student.”

“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”

“Not sure.”

“Yer’ about as fun to talk to as a stack of bricks, ya’ know? Bet if I’d asked you what her name was the other day all you’d say was, ‘I use’ta just call her barista: first name: cute, last name: girl.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t reply. Something about these questions is bothering him. He doesn’t like that he can’t answer them properly– it’s frustrating, really. All he can honestly tell Atsumu is that you’re neat and efficient, that you have a smile that he can’t quite shake out of his head, a perfume that he wishes he could place, and that, to date, you’ve given him one free coffee. The fact that he knows that you’re a graduate student is sheer luck, information that you’d happened to share with him, not that he’d asked you about. He uncoils his hands and flips them over, letting his eyes rest against his reddened palms. Oh, and you’d touched his wrist once and the sheer metaphysical weight of that contact had nearly sent him stumbling backwards.

It’s stupid; he’s stupid.

It’s not hard to talk with people. It’s just…he knows he’s not good at it. Besides, when would he practice? He’s surrounded by extroverts; extreme extroverts. Extroverts who defy all sense and who usually can’t be silenced unless they’re tucked into a deep sleep, and even then it’s doubtful. Both Hinata and Bokuto have demonstrated that they can, and will, talk in their sleep. Still, it’s frustrating to find himself boxed into a corner, completely at a loss and unaware of the most cursory, mundane, simple, facts about you. For almost two years, he’s seen you at least twice a week, shouldn’t he know more? Why doesn’t he know more?

“Why not give her a ticket to a game?”

Atsumu’s question makes him lift his head, abandoning his musings as he lets the weight of that suggestion sink in. The setter is crinkling his eyes at him now, that all knowing smirk back on his lips, umber eyes hooded, mischievous. “The front office can do that, ya’ know? We’ve got extras. They keep em’ for that purpose. Just say she’s a special guest, or a potential sponsor. They ain’t gonna question you.”

Kiyoomi looks away, crossing his legs and leaning to his right side, feigning disinterest as Atsumu tells him who he can speak with, where he can see the upcoming calendar, and what seats might be open. It’s a good idea, a great idea, and he can’t help but loathe that Atsumu thought of it first.

The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.

It’s situated in the best spot. He’d picked it out himself, carefully looking over the colored diagram of the stadium and belaboring the proximity of the sight-lines, wanting to let you have a bird’s eye view of the court. Where would he like to sit, if he could watch a game? What works? What doesn’t? Too high and you can’t catch the movement of the ball. Too low and you can’t see the players. Too far to the right or left and you can’t see the breadth of the court. It’s tricky, and he’s cautious with his selection. He can’t help it.

Kiyoomi only considers you not even liking the sport when he’s placing his order, watching as you carefully tuck his empty cup down on the polished steel of the bar. Shit.

The cafe is quiet. The students are gone, and when the register barista goes to the backroom it’s only him and you in the well lit space. The click of the burr grinder almost makes him jump, and he compromises with his nerves by shifting toward his usual table, resting his bag in the chair and taking in a deep breath.

The gentle press of the tamp is audible over the low beats of the music and he hears you knock the side of the portafilter, no doubt leveling off the crushed arabica before you hook the device under the grouphead. Seconds later he sees you flip the switch for his shots, already grooming his heated, foaming, oat milk in the short pitcher, popping the liquid free of any errant bubbles. You’re gentle with this part, and he’s always loved to watch you pour his cortado, liking the raise of your arm and the flick of your wrist as you let the creamy milk flow into the paper cup, swirling a rosetta design through the ochre of the waiting espresso.

Usually, this well-oiled process of yours calms him, but today he feels fidgety and his head is buzzing. The sooner you finish the drink, the sooner he’ll have to talk to you. Shit, shit. When you move the dark lids forward, his hand feels like it’s heating around the slick paper of the ticket, making it clammy and tacky. He bites his lip and removes his hand from his jacket, wiping his palm against his dark jeans.

You’re already looking up at him, nodding toward the fragrant cup that’s waiting at the edge of the handoff plane. Automatically, he lurches forward, completely in-sync with his familiar routine. The question [ would you like a ticket to one of my games? ] is resting on the tip of his tongue and his fingers are hovering beside his cup. He can see that they’re shaking and that sight doesn’t ease him. Then you ask him something and he feels everything skitter to a halt. Why is this happening? It’s just a ticket, it’s just a game.

Wait. You asked him something?

He does his best to ignore the humming of anxious tension that’s filtering down his fingertips and lifts his bowed head. “What?” he mumbles, lips unsticking at last.

“Just asked how your game went the other day. I tried to record it but my stupid cable box isn’t working. I need to try and see you guys, I know I’ve probably said that before, but it’s pretty pathetic of me to not catch one game when the stadium is only two miles away. Plus, I know y’all are a great team! Heard you made the playoffs last year, that’s so awesome!”

It’s a perfect segway.

But he feels like he’s rooted to the spot, like his tongue is trapped against the roof of his mouth, and his hands are too heavy to move, content to shake beside his cooling drink as he whittles his time away, too filled with the what if’s to do anything about the here and now. He’s going down a mental checklist, mulling over each possibility, cautiously tampering with that heady rush of excitement that’s threatening to bubble out of his masked lips. Shit.

He’s gotta check his vitamin intake, maybe he’s low on omega 3s? The team has a general practitioner on standby. He really should call him after this, maybe run by his office before the next practice.

Something’s off with him.

Wait, that worked.

That shift in his whirring thoughts broke him out of that suspended state and then, before he completely fucks this up, the ticket is down against the counter and he’s muttering something about unlimited uses, that if you can’t make it now, then you can always switch the date, or add someone on, if you have a [ boy ] friend you want to take; the next game works best with the seat that’s listed, he’s checked. He knows it’s open. Again, zero pressure and no worries if you can’t make it. See you around.

You might have responded, you might have smiled, fuck, you might have laughed at him. He’s not sure.

All he knows is that as soon as he is out of the shop he’s calling the team’s gp and confirming an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’s not natural for his heart to stutter and thump like that. It could be an arrhythmia.

It could be any number of things.

He hasn’t felt this nervous about a game in years. Sure, it’s a good team, and they have four players that are of his generation, most of them powerful outside hitters that will probably give the Jackals a good run for their money, but they’re not insurmountable. They can beat VC Kanagawa; they’ll have to if they want to advance further in the lineup for the playoffs.

It’s just…

He keeps looking for that seat. Your seat. He’d gotten to the stadium early; opting to forgo the first team meeting, saying he needed to practice his wall drills, work on his spin, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. At least, not before a game. He steadies himself, reiterating that it’s not practical or helpful for him to worry about things like that.

Nevertheless, he’s pinned the seat in his mind. He studied it as the lights shuddered on, the maintenance staff flashing him bewildered looks as he stepped into the empty brightness of the court. He’d found it again during the pre-game warmup, onyx eyes committing the location to memory, searching for the little details that he could watch for if he wanted to find it again, later, when the arena was packed with thousands of eyes and waving signs.

As they open the main doors and the seats fill up, he’s still looking at the seat.

“Whatcha looking at?” Hinata asks, his burst of orange hair already slicked with sweat, vivid eyes sharp.

“Nothing.”

The results of Kiyoomi’s physical had shown no outliers, no cause for worry or concern. Everything was fine. He should just get a little extra potassium in, maybe eat a few more bananas in the morning, or after his practices. He’d been a little miffed when he opened the manilla folder, eyes hunting for abnormalities, for a reason, an explanation. If nothing is wrong, then why does he feel like he’s tingling with adrenaline all the time? It makes him light-headed, sluggish, and that’s detrimental to his playability, to his value to his team.

He looks away from Hinata and paces past Atsumu’s arched eyebrow, ignoring the implications of that wicked grin that’s resting on the setter’s quirked lips. It’s fine; he’s fine. His eyes look up to the balcony again. He really shouldn’t be doing that, he reminds himself. It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t–

Oh. There you are.

He can’t make out details, not from this distance, and he suddenly feels self-conscious about his face. There’s no mask. He doesn’t wear it when he plays, and this will be the first time you’ve seen him without it. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t cared so much about the visibility of the court. Why did he plant you so far away? If he can’t see you, then there’s no way you’ll be able to tell which one he is either…oh…wait…his name is on the back of his jersey and they’ll announce his number. Nevermind.

The referee calls for the teams to line up and he diligently follows his teammates, standing in his usual spot, ignoring the dull thump of his heart as it beats a ragged tattoo under his ribs.

They won.

They won, and he’d racked up a whopping 23 points for himself, a personal milestone. It’ll be something that will go down on his athletic record, that the local and national news reports will chatter about, that he can feel proud of. He’s glad; you always show him your best, so it’s only fair he does the same for you too.

He’d peeked up at your seat during each time out, each break, every time the momentum shifted, and before he hit every serve. You looked like you had your feet propped up, resting against the metal barrier of the balcony, and he could see that your arms were wrapped around your knees. You were paying attention, and that knowledge made his lungs swell and his pulse quicken.

Now, after he’s finished toweling some of the clinging sweat from his brow and the matted droop of his obsidian curls, he twists back, facing your seat, but you’re not there. An empty curve of plastic greets him and his heavy brows furrow, his fingers dropping the towel onto the bench as they curl up into his palms.

Did you leave? It would make sense, he supposes. The game is over. He just thought you might come down. Might want to talk. Not that he’d have much to say. He never does. Stupid; what would he talk with you about? See the game? Yeah, duh.

The distant voice of MSBY’s public relations manager is calling for him. He’ll worry about it [ you ] later, he thinks, he’s still got a job to do.

During his interview he can hear Atsumu’s voice. It’s annoying. While the setter doesn’t attempt to tone himself down, he rarely talks that loudly. Kiyoomi glances over at his straight back, watching as his hand cups against the back of his golden head, an infectious laugh bursting from his turned lips. Strange. It’s not like him to chat with someone for that long, not when he’s got his own post-game interviews to conduct. He usually–

Ah, it’s you.

Suddenly, questions like: [ how does it feel to be considered for the 2025 Japanese Olympic team? ] don’t matter. His head is half cocked now, dark eyes following the two of you, his comments to the national reporter falling into clipped monosyllables. This is unprofessional; he should focus on the matter at hand, it’s not like him to be distracted.

He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. That so many things are suddenly not like him.

When you push playfully at Atsumu’s shoulder, he lapses into a stormy silence, nails biting into his clenched palms, pressing half moons into his calloused skin. After answering one more question: [ something about his future plans - how’s he supposed to know? That depends on trades, on opportunities. And right now he’s not in the correct frame of mind to answer honestly, not when he can see that you’re right there ] he bows to the smiling face of the reporter, formally concluding his participation in the interview. He knows it’s abrupt; he knows he’ll likely get an earful from the MSBY PR director, from his coach, and from himself, when the full weight of his uncharacteristic rashness hits him, but right now he doesn’t care.

His feet feel like lead and the steps that he’s taking shudder against the gym’s polished flooring. He’s usually smoother than this, more collected, but can’t will himself to stop lurching forward. He tucks his hands into the darkness of his team jacket, coiling his numb fingers into tight balls, and hunches his shoulders. He likely looks like thunder and this suspicion is confirmed when a ball boy scuttles out of his path, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care.

Atsumu hasn’t noticed his approach, but you do, and that shy wave and familiar smile makes his breath catch in his throat. Damn it. What’s going on with him?

Atsumu notices your wandering attention and turns, following your gaze. Once he spots Kiyoomi, he gives him a cheeky smirk, dipping his chin, lazily fixing his amber eyes on Kiyoomi’s arched figure. “Look who caaame!” he calls, lacing his tone with poorly concealed glee. “She said you gave her a ticket. What a great, absolutely original, idea! And you had your record breaking scoring streak today too! Hey! Maybe she’s good luck! Watch out (Y/N), pretty soon we’ll be hooking you up with a personal mascot job if ya’ can light such a fire under our stoic hitter’s ass. Must be something special in that coffee yer’ serving him.”

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at Atsumu’s blatant needling and the setter chuckles, flipping his focus back to you, sensing the rising agitation that is rolling off of Kiyoomi in waves now. “Well, sure was good to see ya’ again! Talk to me next time, huh? I’ll get you a boxed seat. It’s much better than those nosebleeds in the balconies.”

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips, and make a show of rolling your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know? And what boxed seats? Feels like I’d see them if you had them,” you tease, earning yourself a last laugh and Atsumu’s back, a friendly hand waving a last goodbye as he finally strides toward the waiting cameras. Kiyoomi watches him go, his shoulders tense, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Is Atsumu doing this on purpose?

He almost snaps a retort at his retreating figure, but the sound of your voice immediately snatches his attention toward you. His dark gaze meets yours and the look in your eyes makes his palms feel itchy and his feet scuff mindlessly against the floor.

“This is gonna sound so dumb, but it’s been on my mind since I got here…”

Kiyoomi’s fingers twist in his pockets, coiling over each digit, and his pulse feels like it’s speeding up again. “What?”

“It’s just…well, you look so much younger without the mask,” you let out a small laugh and duck your head, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you face away from his widening eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“No! You look good! Uh, I mean, not that you didn’t…I just wasn’t sure…not that I’d thought about it…a lot…uh, I…yeah, I’m…No, it’s not bad!” You press your hands against your mouth, steepling your fingers under your nose and fix him with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve got things to do, but Miya was right about one thing, you had a great game. I had a lot of fun and it was so nice of you to get me that ticket, and well…”

You pause, lowering your hands to yank your purse forward, fingers digging into the leather before you right yourself once more, returning with a small, zipped bag, and a plastic card that’s balancing atop the metal teeth. “It’s a…well…I sorta tried to think of some things that you might like. To say thanks! It’s nothing fancy. A nail filing kit, because I read that volleyball guys like to keep their hands in tiptop shape, one of those portable ball pumps and some masks.

The masks are from a great company, back home, er, in the states. Well, at least I like them, they’re super durable. And the card, uh, ha, um, the card is to the cafe. I know it’s not super original, but I didn’t know if you liked any other places. And I didn’t wanna assume or — Haha, oh God, I am talking your ear off. Just…here! Take this from me so I can get my foot outta my mouth, okay?”

You press the bag forward and before he can tell you he doesn’t accept gifts from fans, his hands are already out of the safety of his pockets, firmly wrapping around your offering. “Thank you,” he bows. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure how.

He didn’t mean to come by the cafe.

He thought he’d go for a quick run before practice, maybe loop the block, or jog toward the university. None of these things are close to the cafe, but apparently his feet had other ideas. The shop bell rings when he steps inside, wiping some hand sanitizer against his heated palms, onyx eyes alert, already searching for you.

A male barista [ is it Kane? ] greets him and before he can stop himself, he’s asking if you’re there. “Oh, (Y/N)? Nah, she’s off today. But I can make your cortado, you get almond milk, right?”

“Oat,” Kiyoomi replies, voice muffled by his mask. Damn. Why did he come here? He didn’t mean to and now it’s looking like it was a wasted trip. A useless instinct. He’d wanted to thank you properly for your gift, which had been on his mind a lot the past few days. Perhaps that’s why he felt so compelled to jog the extra mile, why he can’t seem to keep away, why he keeps looking for you as he waits, even though he knows you’re not here.

Maybe he can text you his thanks. That would make all of this easier. Oh, wait, does he even have your number? He pulls his phone out of his pocket and examines his contact list, searching for you. No, nothing under your name. Maybe he put it under something else? [ barista? cafe? ] Again, there’s nothing. Damn. Why didn’t he ask at the game? Or when he gave you the ticket?

When he picks up his drink and paces back into the sunshine, he’s still kicking himself that he hasn’t asked for your number yet. It would have made things so much simpler, he reasons, sipping at his coffee; now he’ll have to come back.

But days pass, and he hasn’t returned.

There’s just too much going on. Too many team meetings and late practices. Too much preparation. The pace of his schedule has never bothered him before, but now he keeps hoping for some kind of reprieve.

The other morning Atsumu strode into a meeting with a cup from your cafe, proudly flaunting the familiar label. It made Kiyoomi’s blood boil [ did he see you? talk with you? Did he get to see that addictively pleasing smile of yours? ] and later that afternoon he experienced his first scolding.

“What’s going on, Omi? Five missed digs? This isn’t like you. You look like your head is in the clouds. Come on, get it together. Big game in five days.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” It’s all he can say.

When he’s heading toward the team showers, he catches sight of Atsumu’s knowing leer and he grits his teeth, ignoring the huffed snicker and scoffing head shake that the setter sends his way.

Finally, two days later, he’s got some free time. There are other errands he needs to run, things he should do, but the only thing he can think about is you.

He’s walking up from a side street, one he rarely takes, when, at long last, he catches sight of you. You must be on a break. You’re sitting at a bench, facing a small, but well laid flower bed, flipping the pages of your open book languidly as you read under the cool shade of a gnarled tree.

He’s glad he’s wearing the mask that you gifted him.

You’d said that they were durable, and their quality had genuinely impressed him. When he got home, after the game, he slipped them out of their individual plastic cases, fingering the thick, well made materials before washing one. He’d left the others in their containers. He’ll use them, eventually, but not right now. He wants to savor them. He wants them to last.

Kiyoomi is almost to your side when you look up and he bites against his lower lip as soon as you give him that friendly smile of yours, already closing your book and standing, waiting for him to step closer. He comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at you through his dark lashes.

You always smell so nice, he thinks, unconsciously shifting closer, seeking more. You must have showered before coming into your shift because the crisp scent of peppermint and gentle lavender makes his nostrils flare hungrily under his mask.

“Hey there!” you begin, tucking your book into your arms. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“Fine. I have practice later. I came by the other day. I…” he lapses into frustrated silence, dark brows falling, letting his hands grip at the material of his jacket. Why is this so hard? You, all the others on his team, Motoya [ hell, even the notoriously impassive Wakatoshi has come out of his shell over the years ] can slip into a conversation. Damn it, how can everyone else make this look so easy?

“Saw you’re playing the Adlers soon. They’re the team the Jackals have a sorta rivalry with, right?”

He blinks down at you and lets out a shallow exhale. There you go again. You’re giving him a life raft, a conversation he can fall into, something he enjoys talking about. He remembers his stilted conversation with Atsumu, the one where he did not know about any of the basic things, the obvious things, the things that made you, you. It’s nice that you’re looking out for him, that you’re helping him along, but he doesn’t want to talk about volleyball, not right now.

“We do. How did your finals go? You said you had a dissertation?”

“Oh!” you blurt, your eyes widening, but you’re clearly pleased, even a little excited that he’s asked. “You remembered! Finished it up last week. Now I just need to knock out my revisions and I’ll either go back to committee, or they’ll approve it! I’m hoping they approve it. I’m sick of looking at it, haha.” Your fingers tap against your book and you duck your head, a quick smile passing over your smooth lips. “Uh, did you want to come in for a coffee? Not trying to hold you up, if you’ve got practice to go to.”

“I was the one who came over.” He sounds a little harsh, he thinks, nose wrinkling under his mask. He’s never worried about being blunt, but that doesn’t work here. He doesn’t want to be, not with you. “I mean, I wanted…wanted to say thanks, for the masks and the other things. I like them.” He points to his covered face and you let out a chuckle, gleaming eyes crinkling as you look up at him. Damn, you’re pretty. How has he not noticed that before? He wants to see you laugh again, he’s just not sure how to go about it. Does he even know any jokes? Shit.

“Awe, I’m glad you like them! Speaking of, Atsumu came by a few days ago, I guess you must have worn one around him because he was trying to sniff out if I’d given them to you. He’s a funny guy, but I cannot get a good read on him. It’s almost like he’s doing stuff on purpose, but he’s never blatantly obvious about it. The way he was talking, I was kinda worried he was trying to play a prank on you. Does he like to get under your skin or something? He’s–”

Kiyoomi’s not thinking when he leans down. He’s been doing that a lot lately, not thinking. It makes his skin prickle. Or is that the smell of peppermint on your clean neck, the fragrant lavender in your hair? The kiss is soft; more of a press of his lips than a real caress. But it’s nice, and he actually likes being this close to you, but something feels off and, ah, damn it.

His dark brows knit together, furrowing his forehead, when he realizes what he’s done. He didn’t take off his mask. How stupid. But that shaky gasp of air that you let out when he pulls away, and the following upward lift of your body, your lips chasing his, clearly wanting him to come back, oh that’s so worth it, mask or not.

Your eyes are the first thing he sees when he looks back down, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect. They’re bright, vibrant, and rich with an excitement that makes his toes curl.

The smell of lavender and peppermint, of you, is almost overwhelming, and yet somehow it’s all together, not enough. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you.

What is there to say?

That one, half-formed, touch said it all. It expressed every frustration that he’s felt over the last few weeks, every faded memory of your voice, of your playful smiles, of those hesitant conversations you’ve helped him through. It’s all there, sitting quietly between the two of you, shimmering in the sunlight as you take a step closer and his hands finally fall out of his pockets, waiting, hoping for yours.

“(Y/N)! Break’s over! Coffee’s not gonna brew itself!”

The distant voice of your coworker shatters the euphoria and you tense, pulling away, your head turning toward the barked command as you call out your reply. Kiyoomi huffs out an impatient breath. He wanted to try that again. Do it right this time. How pathetic is he? Kissing you through a mask? But his annoyance dies when you face him again, slipping your hand tentatively into his.

His digits fall limply around yours and he can’t help but marvel at the softness of you. One of his thumbs lifts and he traces the skin along your knuckles, unsure if he’s even breathing anymore. “Come on,” you say, looking down at his touch before lacing your fingers through his, showing him how to hold you. “I’ll make your coffee.”

You’re walking forward and he has the inane urge to snatch you back, wanting to see how the rest of you feels, wanting to know how you’ll fit into his arms, but he distracts himself by following you. There’s a budding warmth that’s spreading from his palm, where your hand rests inside his, to his chest. It feels like a low burning fire is coursing along his veins and his heartbeat thuds out of rhythm, but for once he doesn’t care.

In fact, he thinks he likes it.

He sits in the cafe for too long, his coffee cold, the cup almost empty. But before he leaves [ already so, so late for practice ] he gets your number.

He taps the unfamiliar digits carefully into his device and you watch from the counter, your chin propped in your hand, a gentle smile kissing against your palm. Then he stands, pausing beside you and you run your index finger down his arm, lingering your touch beside his wrist, making him shiver in the warm sunlight, a pleased grin hidden behind his mask.

notes: this man has what, 10 pages of interaction? idk why and idk how, but he is stuck in my brain - like, seriously send help, i think i’m in love.

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honeyapplepi · 4 years ago

Note

bro, imagine it’s like minecraft manhunt except you can’t die and dream is your bodyguard. not really taht good of an idea but if it gets u started than that’s good. i’ll come up with more later

Y/N Never Dies!

warnings: swearing

a/n: I switched who the bodyguard was, but it’s still the manhunt. I hope you like it! I’m not too big of a fan of the ending, but i couldn’t think of any other way to end it.

Italics = Flashbacks

(ALL PLATONIC) Dream x gn!reader, Sapnap x gn!reader, Georgenotfound x gn!reader

masterlist

Creeping over the ravine’s edge you watched as Sapnap and George chased Dream. Readying your bow you grabbed a slowness arrow out of your bag and positioned it towards Sapnap. Letting the arrow go you watched as it hit sapnap in the back. Sapnap fell to the ground causing george to stop.

“Sapnap? What happened,” George asked. Dream stopped for a second looking to where the arrow came from and saw you. You winked at him before quickly drawing back another arrow and shooting it towards George.

“What! Where did that arrow come from?,” George said looking around. You hid behind a nearby tree and waited.

“There must be a skeleton somewhere in here,” Sapnap said. Dream took this as a chance and quickly ran over to the two and hit them both with his stone sword.

“Dream!,” Sapnap yelled being hit by Dream. Dream quickly managed to kil Sapnap and soon killed george too.

You looked over the edge and then swam down the waterfall meeting dream at the bottom. Grabbing your arrows you placed the back in your bag and looked towards the blonde standing in front of you.

“A hood and mask really?,” Dream said. You rolled your eyes and pulled down the hood and cloth mask that covered your mouth and nose.

“I’m trying to be stealthy. Look at you, you’re wearing a bright green sweatshirt, and you wonder why they find you so easily,” You told him. “Anyways I should go before they come back you wouldn’t want them to find out you’re a cheater,” You said jokingly.

Dream just rolled his eyes at your comment decided not to come up with a remark. You pulled your hood over and your mask up and then started to walk away. “Bye, Dreaaam,” you said playfully dragging out his name.

As you strolled away, you thought about how a month ago Dream appeared at your door.

You sat on the balcony of your tree house reading a book. You weren’t really paying attention to your surrounding so you didn’t notice Dream walking towards your home, but luckily your dogs did. After hearing your dogs bark, you looked up from your book and noticed a man in a green sweatshirt approaching who you quickly recognized as Dream.

“Well well well. What do we have here?,” You said almost playfully standing up and looking over your balcony at the blonde. Dream was almost regretting this as he noticed the sly look in your face.

“I need your help, Y/N,” Dream said which caused a small smile to appear on your face. You were fine with being annoying about his need for your help as you could tell it wasn’t anything too serious.

“You mean THE Dream need my help. I almost feel honored,” You said smirking playfully. Dream looked at you his eye practically twitching in annoyance.

“Can we just talk about this inside,” Dream said. You just laughed and let him up the staircase that led to your home. You entered your house before he did and went to your kitchen to make tea.

“So, what do you need?,” you asked your tone more serious than before. Dream sat at your table while you stood by your counter watching the kettle that was over the fire.

“There’s a manhunt coming up and I want you to help me win,” Dream said looking at you. You turned around to grab teacups from your cabinets.

“I’m not interested in betting my life to beat a dragon that’ll respawan in a couple years,” You said pouring the boiling water in the two cup and placing a tea bag in both of them.

“No no, all I want you to do is help me win by secretly finding ways to stop Sapnap and George so I get ahead,” Dream said taking the teacup from you as you handed it to him.

“Plus you can’t die, so you aren’t really betting your life,” Dream said trying his hardest to convince you of his plan.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I can die you just can’t beat me,” you said looking at him. It was true though you liked that people believe you just couldn’t die it wasn’t true. You just never died because you were smarter and sometimes stronger than your opponents.

You sat down across from Dream taking a minute the think. “What do I get out of it?,” You asked suddenly.

“Whatever you want,” Dream told you.

“Fine, but i want a stack of books. I need to enchant some things and i’m out of books,” You told him. Dream looked at you confused almost as if books wasn’t a reasonable thing to want.

“Books, really,” Dream said almost insultingly whether or not he meant it to be.

“I mean I could always asked for something harder to find. Like a stack of diamonds,” You said looking at him. Dream quickly drew back his statement before you changed your mind on what you wanted.

“Okay it’s settled i’ll see you in a month. I should go,” Dream said standing up to leave. He looked down at the teacup for a minute before speaking again.

“That tea taste familiar. Did you steal Wilbur’s teabags?,” Dream said recognizing the taste of Wilburs homemade teabags.

“Are you questioning my integrity?,” You said pretending to be offended.

“I’m not entirely sure you have any,” Dream joked.

“Says the cheater,” You joked back.

It didn’t take long for Dream to find his way to the stronghold with you keeping your distance behind Sapnap and George. You were starting to get closer to them. The end was definitely where Dream was most likely to die and if you wanted those books you had to help him win.

Wandering through the stronghold you looked around for Sapnap and George making sure they weren’t close to where Dream was. You started to walk towards an archway when you heard the sound of Sapnap speaking to George. You quickly stopped placing your back flat against the cold stone.

“Sapnap, did you hear that? I think Dream is around the corner,” George whispered to Sapnap though it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Fuck,” you muttered as quietly as possible. You needed to think quick they were right there you couldn’t just run. You heard them crouching towards the archway. You thought fast and grabbed chicken eggs from your bag and through them towards the archway hoping they would hatch.

“Chickens!,” “Where did Dream get eggs?,” you heard from the two boys.

You quickly ran up the stairs trying to find a place to hide. You needed to think when it came to the end it was gonna be hard to not get them to see you. You had a couple invisibility potions but they would still see your bow and bag of arrows so it wouldn’t really help.

You didn’t know what to do. You were going to risk it. Worse case scenario they see you and find out Dream is a cheater and you don’t get your books. If that happens you can always steal some from Technoblade he always has a bunch.

Once you agreed with yourself on your plan you went to find the portal. By the time you go there it was already made and ready to enter. You were hopeful everyone had gotten through and wouldn’t see you when you enter.

After you went through the portal you looked around as you stood on the end stone platform. You spotted Dream running and attacking Sapnap and George. Taking this as your chance to find a place to hide you threw a ender pearl towards one of the obsidian towers.

Once you were teleported you looked over and made sure Sapnap and George were still distracted. You then quickly grabbed your diamond pickaxe and started digging through the tower. Once you were inside you built yourself up and then stopped once you reached a reasonable height. You dig through the obsidian in front of you so you could see them and hoped they wouldn’t notice you.

You knew if you did too much it would become obvious you were there so you mostly watched and sent a couple arrows near them every once in a while hoping they wouldn’t notice. Eventually Dream managed to win and killed the dragon without being killed.

You quickly made your way out of the tower contemplating whether or not to bug Dream about getting you the books. You decided against it and and started to get a pearl out of your bag when you heard something.

“Wait, who is that?,” you heard a british accent say. At that you froze tempted to just teleport and never appear again, but just turned around and pulled off your hood and mask.

“Sorry, Dream. I still get my books right?,” you asked looking towards Dream who had a look on his face that could only be described with the sentence “Oh my god, and they said i wasn’t stealthy”. Dream decided to accept his failure and swallow his pride, and explain to the two boys what was going on.

“Wait, so you cheated?,” Sapnap said still in disbelief that Dream would do all that just to win.

“Yep, he came to my home all desperate practically begging me to help. I felt so bad I had to do it,” you joked over exaggerating what had really happen just to annoy Dream.

“I’ll kill you” Dream threatened though you knew he wouldn’t do it.

“Remember, Dream. Y/N never dies!,” You said referring to yourself in third person.

“Isn’t it “Technoblade never dies”?,” George asked looking towards you.

“He stole that from me. I taught him everything he knows,” you said smugly only Dream knowing your joking. “....but don’t tell him i said that!,” you said your face dropping slightly.

#sapnap #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dream #mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #technoblade #wilbur soot

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years ago

Text

Well, this is the last chapter of the sort of… intro part of this fic. But there is so much more to happen.

im always gonna tag @helleborusangel and then the scattered au was made by @hermitcraftheadcanons

False killed another drowned while Stress continued to fix up their base. A creeper had managed to show up and destroyed a bit of their base, and before they could fix it there was another, and then drowned were coming up from the ocean. While the two of them would have loved to move further away, even head towards spawn, but they had tried that already and it didn’t go well. Stress had gotten killed and was sent back to her spawn in the middle of the coral, leaving False to run back and help her out.

They hadn’t managed to get any beds to set spawn, as right now they weren’t even sure if beds would work since their starting spawns were messed up as well as chat bugging out and regen not working. So, because of all that they were on the island closest to the coral reef and were setting up a base there. With everything going on, they were doing pretty well, having gotten a good starter base set up and were almost at full diamond.

They hadn’t set up a nether portal just yet, prioritizing better armor. Of course, they would head in for the first time with iron armor for scouting so that they wouldn’t lose their hard work to a bad spawn, but if they were going to explore that dimension without regeneration, the more protection they had, the better. The priority after that was getting their way into a fortress and finding supplies for potions. Blaze rods, netherwart and glowstone were going to be a priority, but while it would be nice to have regeneration potions, but the pair had found melon seeds in a shipwreck, so instant health would be a much safer option.

False heard Stress call out to her, and then the fighter killed another drowned before running back into the base, the whole place now patched up and better lit than before. For the most part, it was just the essentials with the only decoration being the style of the build itself, but there was one exception, that being a small tank that held a tropical fish that had been stuck with Stress where she had first spawned.

“Well luv, do you fink we’re prepped enough to head to the nether?” Stress asked, ready to switch her armor up. “I’ve already got a portal set up that we just need to light.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Plus we might be able to find Wels and Keralis since they seem to both be in the nether.”

“Oh, Keralis is in there too?” Stress asked, taking her comm out to look at the messages.

“Well, he got killed by some piglins and also got Hot Tourist Destinations, but never actually used a portal to get to the nether.”

“Alright, well when we get through, we can look for the two of them.”

Keralis was once again very glad he could make stew out of the new nether fungi. While he had found a few red and brown mushrooms, he hadn’t found many and fighting hoglins in a mishmash of armor wasn’t the most appearing idea right now. There was the slight problem of it not being mushroom stew and instead some suspicious stew, and he was getting various effects from it, but some food was better than nothing at all.

The builder was glad he had at the very least spawned in the warped forest, so the most he needed to worry about were endermen and any stray piglins that wandered into the forest from the nearby wastes. And even then he had gold armor so they wouldn’t really bother him unless they saw him opening his own chests which he didn’t think was fair.

Using some bone meal he had obtained from a soul sand valley, Keralis worked on getting another crimson fungus for some more stew. Warped fungi was easy enough to get, seeing as how he was in a warped forest, but crimson was much harder. But hopefully he wouldn’t need to do that much longer.

With his supplies from the forest and nearby basalt delta, Keralis had gotten plenty of gold to trade with piglins. The mobs gave him supplies in return, and they had almost given him enough obsidian for a portal into the overworld. Where he would end up when he got to the other side, Keralis had no clue, but either way it would be better than the nether.

He sighed when the bone meal ran out and there were still no crimson fungi. If he wanted to eat later that… day? Night? Just… later on in general, he would need to either head to the crimson forest, or get more bone meal. And right now, the soul sand valley was closer.

Keralis got geared up and then started the trek to the other biome. He already had a safe path there, so he took his time to walk and not tire himself out and need food he didn’t currently have on hand. That said, he was keeping his eyes out for any trouble on the path as well as looking for any piglin he could barter with. He mistook a ziglin here or there for their unzombified counterparts, but unluckily there didn’t seem to be any normal piglin in sight.

But while his luck for piglin seemed to be low, his luck in general was not, because he was able to spot a portal on a hill in the wastes. And it wasn’t a ruined portal. Even if it had been, Keralis likely would have gone to it to see if there were any supplies he could use. But instead, this was just a lone, lit, hermit made portal.

Keralis booked it to the portal, nearly falling into a gap in the netherrack that led straight down to lava. But he was fine and no mobs were around to attack him. So he stepped into the portal and let the magic whisk him away, coming out on the other side a few moments later.

He was glad to see stone brick on the other side of the portal, something that didn’t really appear in the nether. A set of stairs was nearby and Keralis walked up them, finding a nice looking starter base sans beds, but with a small aquarium with a single fish. He moved over to a window and looked out to see the sun rising and no monsters around. He could also see the ocean and a coral reef under the water. After days in the nether, it was an amazing sight, and Keralis just sat there to take it all in. And also hopefully meet whoever built this place when they returned.

Scar had majorly screwed up and found himself caught in a death loop of sorts. He had accidently lost his footing while pruning some chorus plants and tumbled into the void. When he respawned, he happened to be looking right at an enderman, who promptly killed him. And then killed him again when he respawned. And then yet again. Eventually he wised up enough to keep his eyes closed tight for the next respawn, and he was left alone, but keeping his eyes closed suddenly seemed like a horrible option.

The end was already quiet enough, and other than the feeling of the endstone under his feet, Scar could have mistaken himself for floating in the void. It had been so quiet before with only the sounds of endermen, but now it was louder. Scar snapped his eyes open to look around for the source of the noise, only to get killed again, but then he was careful the second time, looking for what was making that new noise.

It sounded like whispering, but it definitely wasn’t endermen. It also sounded too close to just be something quiet in the distance like the shulkers at the end city. Feeling a little frustrated, Scar shouted, hoping whatever was making the noise would hear him and answer. “Hello?! Is anyone out there?!”

Scar couldn’t help but let a shiver go down his spine as the whispering stopped. That probably wasn’t the best sign, but at the very least whatever was making that sound could hear him. Though understanding might be a different story. “Hey, if you can, I need some help! I’m kind of stranded out here!”

Scar paused, hoping for an answer. At first none came, but just before he completely lost hope, he heard a familiar voice. “We may provide some help. You have done a number of things that we can repay you for. But that amount is still not much, and when we stop, we will stop unless you can give us more.”

Scar knew the voice of the vex. Technically he and Cub had left that behind in season six, but desperate times did call for desperate measures. The vex didn’t tell him how many times they would help him, so he knew he would need to be careful with using that help. That being said, he knew there was one thing that would definitely help. “Are you able to get me back to the overworld? Preferably somewhere safe?”

There was more whispering as the vex discussed between themselves, but after a few moments, they responded. “Unfortunately, we are unable to do that. A higher power is the reason you are here in the first place. However, there are strings we may pull to give you access to an escape.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Scar replied. While it wasn’t an immediate exit, having one on the way was still a good thing to have. “Um, well, do you know who the closest hermit to me is? Other than TFC that is, since I know he’s in the end with me.”

Scar was pretty sure that would be a good question. The closest player would likely be whoever was almost to the end themselves, or maybe they were in the stronghold. Once he knew that, he would hopefully have another request that the vex would allow and they could send a message to them for him. But instead, the vex gave him a much more unfavorable answer. “Look up.”

Scar was confused, but then carefully looked up, avoiding the gaze of any endermen. He scanned the horizon for something, anything that might show signs of a hermit, but there was nothing. His next guess was that maybe a hermit had already claimed an elytra and was flying around, so he looked further into what passed as a sky in the end. And then he saw the bright color that was Bdubs.

At first Scar wanted to smile as seeing his friend, but then he realized the man wasn’t wearing any sort of elytra and was falling fast. Without much more thought, Scar backed up and watched Bdubs get closer before he finally ran to the edge of his small island and jumped. Scar yelled Bdubs’ name as he reached for the hermit, the other man not reacting until Scar managed to grab his arm. Bdubs’ eyes shot open and he looked around in surprise before his eyes finally rested on Scar. “Scar! How did you get down here?”

“You were falling past the island I’ve been stuck on. Look!” And Scar pointed to the island which was rapidly disappearing above them.

“I thought I was just ages into the void. I lost my comm forever ago so I had no clue how far down I was. No wonder I haven’t died.”

“Yeah, well sorry that I can’t really get us out of this. But maybe you can shift yourself a bit to the side so maybe I can catch you when you respawn again.”

Bdubs chuckled, glad for some sort of hope. “Yeah. See you in a couple days.”

The two held onto each other as they continued to fall, but Bdubs watched in horror as Scar was the only one of them to take damage from the void. A few moments later, he disappeared into smoke which Bdubs tried to grab on to in vain, but a moment later, it was all gone, and he was back to falling alone.

TFC hid behind an obsidian pillar to catch his breath as the purple magic of the dragon’s breath was blocked by it. He was running low on health again, so he needed to be careful about getting near the dragon so she could fling him up at the right time. Without blocks, bows and arrows, ladders, or anything really, TFC just had to hope that he could reach the crystals and punch them just before dying. He had already managed to take out two, but there were still plenty to go, especially the caged ones.

There was a roar and TFC cursed as the dragon phased through the pillar and he found himself falling a moment later. He wasn’t close enough to any of the pillars with crystals to try and take them out. That was, unless he somehow managed to catch himself on the iron bars around the nearest crystal and not kill himself. But that was unlikely. He was already old and prosthetics weren’t the best for stuff like this.

So, it ended up that TFC found himself hitting the ground and respawning on the obsidian platform again. He slowly got himself to sit on the platform without managing to throw his back out and used it as some time to rest. He knew the dragon would probably find her way over to him eventually, but right now he was done with fighting.

He pulled out his communicator to check on how everyone else was doing, frowning upon seeing Scar’s many end related deaths. TFC wondered if it would have been better if Scar were the one stuck on the island instead. He could probably deal with the dragon better than him. Probably anyone could. Maybe once upon a time defeating the dragon alone was a feat he could manage, but his old bones weren’t built for that anymore.

He knew it was probably in vain, but TFC tried to send another distress message into the chat. He didn’t really have many other options for what to do, and for all he knew, it could eventually fix itself and everyone would just assume it was still broken if he didn’t check. But, with a sigh, he just got another error message. Maybe another time, that’s all TFC could hope for.

Etho continued to shiver in the covers of the bed he had been put in. When he respawned on top of a mountain, he was surprised to see Grian and the bots up there. Even though there weren’t any trees or animals or life whatsoever other than the other people themselves, they had somehow managed to get a bed and some food. And looking at his communicator, they had managed to somehow all keep from dying from the cold, only having a few instances of falling or even one of starvation.

Etho looked over to Grian, who was currently sitting in the snow and shivering even more than he was. The avian had their wings wrapped around himself and was rubbing his arms to keep warm. Etho had tried more than once to get out of the bed so that Grian could use it, but the bots had both insisted he use it instead.

At first, he had complained, saying he would be fine and he didn’t want Grian to deal with the cold like this. But then he watched as Grian suddenly summoned purple flames in his hands, the fire’s warmth reaching the bed at least a little. The color seemed to reflect in Grian’s eyes perfectly, his irises matching the amethyst color at the moment. At least, that was Etho’s first thought, but then he remembered Ren and Impulse’s eyes being different colors, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

“S-So, how did you g-guys get this st-stuff?” Etho chattered out, making the two bots tuck him into the cover more.

“Dad made them.” Jrum answered. “When he respawns, he’s able to use magic to make us stuff like food or this bed.”

Etho nodded, but then looked up again. “Wh-why hasn’t he tried making something to get you guys down?”

The bots didn’t immediately answer, instead looking at each other nervously. “Well, something’s been up with Dad. When we got here his wings got weird looking and then there was that thing.” And Jrum pointed to the small ice and bedrock structure Etho had spawned next to. “And then he started attacking us so we had to push him off the mountain and when he respawned he wanted us to abandon him here and then you showed up!”

“S-so in other w-words, s-something’s wrong w-with him, b-but y-you don’t kn-know what.” And the bots nodded. “W-Well, th-that sums up a l-lot of th-things going on. L-Like e-every time I r-respawn, I sh-show up n-near someone e-else.”

“Really?”

“Or s-something l-like that. I s-started out at s-spawn with Joe a-and Beef.” Etho paused to rub his arms for a bit more warmth. “When I res-spawned, I w-was in a r-ravine with Ren. H-He s-suddenly attacked m-me like your d-dad did so then I w-was in the e-end.”

“Did you find Scar or TFC?” Grum asked, surprised when Etho shook his head.

“Neither. B-Bdubs is s-stuck in the v-void and isn’t d-dying. I d-didn’t see him but I f-found his c-communicator. I d-died before I c-could find out m-more. After that was th-the desert.”

“So Iskall or XB, right? They’ve both died of dehydration so that means they have to be somewhere hot.”

“Y-yeah, probably. But I d-didn’t see anyone. J-just a l-lack of dead b-bushes.” Etho explained. “A-anyway, s-sort of at that point I r-realized I w-was a-appearing n-near other p-people, s-so I made s-something to j-jump off of t-to send me e-elsewhere.”

“Okay, where did you go next?” Jrum asked before getting an idea. “Oh! And are you able to look at coordinates when you show up there, because then you might help people who are safe figure out where those who aren’t are!”

“Y-yeah. I’ve g-got access to those. J-just haven’t taken advantage of th-that too much. I s-spawned with Imp-pulse next a-and used a-all the time I h-had to tr-try and break a block w-with him.”

“Well, he’s still dying a lot, so if you did, it doesn’t look like it helped much.” Jrum said, Grum elbowing him. “Ow! Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t say things like that. Etho is doing the best he can in a situation like this.”

“I-It’s fine. I g-get it. After th-that, I sh-showed up h-here.”

“And you have surprisingly lasted the longest up here based on the death messages.” Grum agreed. “Well, actually, it was longer when you were with Ren, but it’s getting close. You slept for a while when we first got you into the bed.”

Etho nodded. “H-How long h-has i-it been?”

The bots both looked up at the sky to look at the sun before looking back to Etho. “It’s been at least a day. We weren’t really paying attention to when you showed up. Uh… it’s sort of like… the middle of the fifth day we’ve all been stuck in this season.”

Before Etho could respond, there was a chirp and Grian started using fire to warm himself up again. Etho stared at the avian and then Grum and Jrum carefully moved Grian closer to the bed so the warmth of the fire would reach him, but not too much in case they upset Grian. “When we first got you into bed and you fell asleep, Dad got upset and attempted to attack you, so we’ve been trying to keep that from happening again.”

“Th-thanks.”

Since Etho wasn’t stuck in the snow, the cold wasn’t enough to kill him, so the bots did their best to keep him warm and fed. At the same time, they talked things out with Etho about what they could do since Etho could find people and Grian seemed to be able to get them necessary items.

Eventually, night fell and Grian forcefully got closer to curl up with the bots, each of them finding themselves pinned under one of their dad’s wings. They were worried about Etho at first, especially when Grian moved closer to the bed, but the only thing then needed to worry about was Etho’s bones accidently being crushed when Grian plopped himself onto the bed and tried to squeeze all four of them on the mattress made for one person.

Surprisingly, they all managed to get to sleep in that position, but it didn’t help advance the day forward like the first time Grian used the bed. Despite being metal, the combined body heat of Grian and Etho kept all of them warm, as well as from them just being out of the snow. Since the bots technically didn’t need to sleep, they mostly stayed awake to keep an eye on things, though taking it in shifts so they didn’t overdo it. But the night was calm, and it looked like everything was going to be fine.

And then just as the sun was coming up over the horizon, things changed. Grian got up suddenly, winding Etho and causing the bots to fall to the ground. His wings were puffed up in agitation and flames came from his hands, though his hands were over his ears, making it look like his head was on fire.

Jrum was the first to get up and go over to Grian, but the avian’s wings just swiped at the bot and kept them away. Grum tried next but just got the same result, though he was hit away at a different angle, nearly sending him off the edge of the mountain. Etho, despite having nothing except a bit of food, got up from the bed to get close to Grian, managing to dodge his wings.

By the time Etho reached Grian, he had started hyperventilating. The ninja put his hand on Grian’s shoulder and he whipped around, bright amethyst eyes staring unfocused at Etho. “C-can you t-tell m-me what’s up? What’s going on?” Grian didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes flicked over to the pillar next to them on the mountain. “That’s c-causing it? L-Let’s s-see what w-we can do a-about it.”

Etho walked over to the pillar and looked it over before trying to break the ice since he obviously could break bedrock. He was a little weak from the cold, but Etho was sure he could do this. He had done it for Impulse, and that was underwater. The thing was, he couldn’t get far before he found himself face down in the snow, a hand on the back of his head keeping it down so he couldn’t look up. With a bit of struggling, however, Etho was able to twist his head to the side and his good eye looked up at Grian.

With his voice muffled by the current situation, Etho tried to say something to Grian, not sure if he would hear or even respond. “Grian, what are you doing?”

For a moment, Grian didn’t answer, then he cocked his head to the side confused as well as gave a smile. “Oh, do you mean-?” He cut himself off by laughing. “What I'm doing is making sure you keep going. You won’t fix anything like this.” Etho tried to question what Grian meant, but there was suddenly more pressure pushing him down and preventing him from talking. “Go on now. Freeze to death. You’re only really getting that here.”

Etho was vaguely aware of the bots trying to get him to the bed and pull Grian away, but they didn’t seem to be strong enough for that. There was the clank of metal hitting together, then on stone further down. “Welcome to day five. I’ll speed us through so we can get to the good stuff.” And then Etho froze to death.

As the sun was rising, Joe got up with a start. Something didn’t feel right. He jumped out of bed and went looking for Beef, finding him still taking a nap in his own bed. Joe shook the other hermit awake, not wanting to be alone if his new bad feeling was dangerous at all. Beef complained a little at first, but when Joe explained further, he dragged himself out of bed and geared up.

Swords were drawn as they left the building, looking everywhere they could for danger and making sure to watch each other’s backs. Any mobs from the night were dying from the sun aside from some creepers which they took care of with a couple arrows. But other than all that, there was nothing that really stood out.

Giving up, they started back to their beds, taking a different path back, and then suddenly Joe realized what was the problem, and why he felt off the night before. “Beef, I think that’s our problem right there.”

Beef looked over to Joe, then to where Joe was pointing. Right where the main building of spawn was, or at least, where it had been. Standing in its place, towering above the other buildings, was a tower of various blocks like obsidian, bedrock, endstone, blackstone, and more. The pair moved to get a better look at the new building, finding an entrance at its base which was a few blocks above the surrounding terrain, though it had also appeared with a hill.

“Well, I think we should stop working on makin’ more shelter.” Joe spoke up after they had just stared at the tower for a few minutes. “We can make signs to tell people what’s up, but we need to gear up and find X and Grian.”

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #scattered au #falsesymmetry #stressmonster101 #keralis #Goodtimeswithscar #bdoubleo100 #tinfoilchef #ethoslab #jrumbot #grumbot #grian #watcher!grian #avian!grian #joe hills #Vintage beef #the watchers #the watchers (evo)

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

Cast Into Obsidian

Word Count: 2530

For: @lexiepiper and @sapphireswimming

Summary: The accident sent Danny to the hospital due to the damage to his eyes.

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Danny idly moved his hand back and forth over the blanket on his lap. He was trying not to be impatient, but he really wanted the doctor to hurry up already.

“Okay Danny, I’m going to take the blindfold off now. I’m going to need you to lean forward just a little bit, okay?” he asked and Danny complied, eager to be freed from his prison of gauze and darkness.

As the gauze made its final orbit, Danny took a steadying breath before opening his eyes.

He only found more darkness.

“Are the lights off?” he asked, hoping it was that or maybe his eyes were taking a bit to adjust.

“Yes, we didn’t want to overstimulate you.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and leaned back against the pillows. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing something.”

“Is it too dark?” the doctor asked. Something about his tone seemed off. It seemed almost worried.

“Yeah. Is there a way to turn on one light or something?”

He heard something being written down, “We can try that. Just a moment.”

Danny heard the doctor walk away so he turned in the general direction and waited for the click of the switch.

“This light is on a dimmer and I’m going to gradually turn it up. Just let me know if it’s too much and I’ll turn it back down.”

“Okay,” Danny nodded.

He waited for the light to come on.

He waited.

Waited.

Why was it taking so long?

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I don’t know? Maybe turn the light on and I can tell you?”

There was the click of several switches and Danny could hear the buzz of fluorescent lights above him.

But there was nothing but darkness.

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s not something he wanted his doctor to say.

He thought it was bad enough that a stupid accident in his parent’s lab had him in the hospital overnight.

But this? It was so much worse.

“But I can’t be blind.” His voice hitched as he tried to keep his composure, “I want to be an astronaut. You got to get your pilot’s license first. I can’t be blind. I can’t!”

He couldn’t keep it together any longer so he asked the doctor to go away. He didn’t want to cry in front of them.

Why did his future have to rely so heavily on sight? You can’t touch stars. You can’t hear them either.

Why did the thing he loved the most have to go away?

He was only trying to be helpful and now it felt like his whole life was over.

He felt so stupid for crying about this. He wasn’t dead. He should just be thankful he wasn’t dead.

There were tons of people in the world who were blind and they got along just fine. This was just something he’d have to get used to. Something new to learn.

He thought he had it all out of his system but he lost it all over again when his parents found out. The second he heard his mom sniffle he was back at it with the waterworks.

The best the doctors could figure, and there were definitely multiple doctors that had come to poke and prod him once they figured out what happened, was that the light from the machine his parents made was just so bright it fried his eyes.

They all agreed that it was permanent.

Part of him hoped they were wrong about that. Part of him wondered if maybe it was just temporary. Maybe his vision would come back, but not all at once? Maybe he’d have to wear glasses like Tucker for a while. Heck, maybe they’d have the same prescription.

He wasn’t really sure how glasses worked, but he wouldn’t mind finding out if it would get him out of the dark.

He didn’t like how he had to stay in the hospital to relearn how to walk. He knew he was clumsy before, but without his eyes, he was even worse.

They got him a cane so he could waggle that around instead of flailing his arms. He hadn’t realized that it was so obvious.

He also had to get used to people just suddenly being nearby. Sometimes he’d just be sitting and zoning out and someone would just start talking to him, or worse, touch him, and he’d freak out because he didn’t know they were there.

Thankfully, his family learned pretty quickly not to scare him like that. His Dad sometimes forgot to announce himself, but he made so much noise just existing that it didn’t really matter. His mom sometimes forgot to say hello, but she always made sure to warn him before touching him. Jazz was the best at it.

At first, she sometimes went a little overboard by announcing literally everything, even the movement of others, but he did appreciate it.

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

It was his last day in the hospital that his friends were finally able to visit him.

“Now remember you have to tell him where you are or if you want to touch him before you do it.” Jazz whispered to someone at the doorway.

“Jazz you’re supposed to say hello first.” he teased knowing she was just about to.

“I was!” she pouted with a little huff. “Anyway, Hello Danny.”

He stuck his tongue out in her general direction as he waved.

“No fair! I can’t stick my tongue out at you.”

“Sure you can! Just make a lot of noise when you do it!” he gave his best example by humming loudly with his tongue out.

Jazz snorted.

Or maybe that wasn’t her?

“Who’s here?” he asked and wondered why he didn’t just wait for her to introduce them before he teased her.

“Sam and Tucker,” she answered. “You can go sit in the chairs over there if you want,” she said to his friends who were still awfully quiet.

“You know you can talk to me right?” he said once he heard them take their seats. “I’m blind, not deaf.”

“You’re taking this rather well,” Sam said, sounding oddly timid.

“I have had a week to deal with it. Plus you know me? I don’t like being bummed out.”

“No one likes being bummed out, Danny.” she retorted sounding more like her usual self.

“Says the goth.” He teased right back.

Something hit him in the arm and he tensed.

“Oh shoot! I’m sorry! I forgot!” Sam quickly apologized.

“You forgot?! Dude, we’ve been in here for barely a minute!” Tucker yelled through what sounded like clenched teeth.

“Guys!” He really didn’t want them fighting. Not now. And definitely not over him. “I’m fine. She just surprised me, is all. Plus, I did kind of deserve it, so there’s that.” he shrugged it off with a smile and just hoped they relaxed.

It was quiet for a few moments.

Then a couple more.

“Could you let me know if we’re good or not? I am literally in the dark over here.”

Both his friends quickly reassured him that they were fine.

Then Tucker snickered, “Wait, did you just make a pun?”

“Of course!” Danny laughed. He was even happier when they laughed along with him.

With the tension finally broken the trio slipped back into their normal rhythm. It was easy for Danny to imagine that they were just hanging out in his room at home.

There was a knock on the door and Danny turned to the sound, “Who is it?”

“Dude, who are you talking to?” Tucker asked.

“Someone knocked on the door.”

“Who did?”

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know, Tucker, that’s why I asked, who is it.”

“Well, I didn’t hear a knock.” Tucker retorted.

“Boys!” Sam interrupted, “Danny do you want me to go check?”

“Yes! Thank you.”

Danny heard the creak of the chair as Sam got up and he followed the sound of her boots as they made their way to the door.

The door opened.

After a few moments, it closed again before Sam made her way back over to Danny’s bedside. “I didn’t see anyone. Maybe you just mistook one of the nurse carts rolling past.”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, “I know what a cart sounds like and that wasn’t a cart!”

“Geez sorry.” Sam apologized sarcastically as she dropped back into her chair.

Danny sighed, “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He pulled his knees in and just hoped he didn’t piss off one of his only two friends. It’s not like making new friends was going to happen.

He was only frustrated because that wasn’t the first time that had happened. He’d been hearing knocks at his door only for no one to be there all week. It was just often enough to be annoying but not so frequent for him to ignore it.

He thought about telling them about it. Or maybe even ask them to leave the door open in case it really was the cart sounding odd when it passed.

He almost did.

But the knock came again.

“That’s it!” Danny got off his bed in a huff and walked straight to the door, or the general approximation of where he was thinking the door was, anyway. He hadn’t exactly memorized the room yet.

His hip bumped the tray next to his bed, but it was on wheels so it rolled out of the way as he course-corrected.

His friends called for him, both to come back and to be careful, but he didn’t care right now. He needed to find out who was at the door. To prove that he wasn’t hearing things.

He hit the door a bit sooner than he was expecting and it took him a moment of feeling around to find the door handle, but he did it. He took a step back as he opened it to make sure he didn’t bean himself with the thing.

Then he just stopped and stared because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Mostly it was because he was seeing.

Everything was still dark, like he existed in a void with no discernable up or down, but now there was something else. A woman.

Something about her was off, besides the fact that he shouldn’t be able to see her. At first, he thought she was standing on her toes, but then he realized she didn’t actually have feet. Her legs just sort of morphed together into a long wispy tail as it tapered down towards the ground. He looked back up and noticed her short red hair that defied gravity along with the rest of her. He also couldn’t help but notice that the edges of her seemed blurry like she wasn’t really there.

She wasn’t facing him so he had no idea what her face looked like. She was currently knocking on the door across the hall from his.

He slowly closed his door and leaned against it.

There was a soft rhythmic tapping on the door behind him. Like someone was drumming their fingers against it one at a time.

“I knew you could hear me,” whispered a voice from the other side of the door. “Poor little thing. All alone in the dark.” her sugary-sweet voice sent shivers up his spine. “I could help you, you know? All you have to do is let me in.”

His legs shook so bad he slid down the door until he was sitting. Somehow he just knew she wasn’t asking permission to enter the room. She could come in anytime she wanted, he wouldn’t even need to open the door.

No, she was asking for entry into something else. Something much more important.

This was the sort of thing his parents had warned him about all his life.

For once something they taught him was finally paying off.

He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes tight. He had to be firm. He couldn’t let her, it, trick him into agreeing. “No.” he opened his eyes and the darkness didn’t seem so dark now, “I don’t need you.”

She hissed and scratched at the door. “You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“Go away!”

The door rattled in its frame in response to his outburst and he frantically crawled away from it.

He bumped his head into something and he screamed because everything was just too much.

“Danny! Danny! It’s just me! Sam! I got you!” Sam pulled him into her arms and he clung to her as he shook.

“Hey, I’m coming over too, man,” Tucker said as he came next to Danny and hugged him too.

The trio sat on the floor huddled together until Danny finally stopped shaking and could breathe regularly.

He relaxed his death grip and leaned back with a sigh.

“What the heck was that?” Tucker braved and Danny could hear the click of his phone being unlocked. “I mean, I already didn’t trust this place, but that was something else.”

“Wait,” Danny turned towards Tucker and tilted his head in confusion, “What was that like for you?”

“Well at first I thought you were about to flip out over nothing.”

“Gee thanks.”

“So I pulled out my phone to see if I could catch something funny.”

“You recorded that?!”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to send it to anybody.”

Danny crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance, “Well?”

“It’s just that once you started talking, things got weird.”

“Weird how?”

Danny heard his own voice through the tiny speakers of Tucker’s phone, but Tucker just talked over it, “Well I thought I was seeing things at first, but I could have sworn your eyes changed color.”

“You saw it too?” Sam asked as she shifted, presumably to get closer to Tucker and watch the video. “Yeah, right there! Pause it!”

Tucker tapped the screen right as past Danny was yelling at the ghost to go away. “Whoa, they just turned green.”

“And they are glowing,” Sam added.

Which to Danny, her addition was a tad more alarming than a slight hue shift, “Glowing?”

“Who were you talking to anyway?” Sam asked, ignoring Danny’s worry.

“I don’t know.” Danny stammered, “There was this woman. I think it was a ghost.”

“Why do you think it was a ghost?” Tucker asked as he set his phone on the floor.

“Because she was floating?”

“You saw her?” Sam asked in awe.

Danny nodded.

“That’s crazy,” Tucker whispered just as awestruck.

That only made Danny more self-conscious. Did they not believe him? Did they think he was nuts now? Had they always thought he was crazy?

“I can’t believe you can see ghosts! That’s so cool! What’d she look like?” Sam asked eagerly as her hands slapped onto the tile and he assumed she must be leaning towards him.

“You believe me?”

“Of course we do!” She answered quickly, “isn’t that right?”

The sound of something, or someone, nudging into someone else was followed by a grunt from Tucker, “Yeah.”

He was so lucky to have such good friends.

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #lexiepiper #sapphireswimming #Two prompts Two teams One fic #AU #Blind AU

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plainbrunettelbl · 5 years ago

Text

ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x Pregnant (O) Reader Bathtime Snuggles

Word count: 1467

Warnings: Fluff that can cause heart problems.

Title: ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x Pregnant (O) Reader Bathtime Snuggles

Summary: You wait for Sho to get home and have a relaxing bath with him.

(Gif not mine)

💤-You were seven months pregnant and feeling it.

💤-You had made a small nest in the living room on the big couch. You wanted Sho to get home and snuggle with you as soon as possible. The bedroom was too far away.

💤-Your Omega was a bit sad that her Alpha wasn’t here right now. The sound of the rain softly hitting the windows would have been great to listen to while cuddling under the warm blankets.

💤-Your Alpha being away at night sucked especially when you needed his warmth the most. This pup would not go to sleep unless their dad was nearby. The pup seemed to know that one Sho came it was nap time.

💤-You had a little relief from a fanged friend.

💤-A black tom cat that Sho had picked up one night was cuddling against your stomach, trying to calm the wiggling pup. He would gently purr and knead your stomach.

💤-You had affectionately called him Obi, it was short for Obsidian. You had to watch out when all the lights were off or else you would accidentally sit or step on him.

💤-He blended in so well with the shadows.

💤-He would sleep on Sho’s pillow while your Alpha was passed out on it. You couldn’t tell were your Alphas hair started and Obi’s fur ended. You loved to sneakily take photos of them together.

💤-They were both so cute together. You hoped that your pup would have Sho’s dark hair. You pictured your dark-haired pup curled asleep on your Alpha’s chest while he was also passed out. You couldn’t wait to snap a picture of that.

💤-Obi wasn’t really that affectionate of a cat. It seemed once your bump had arrived a switched flipped in him. While your Alpha was away he was right by your side, your little protector.

💤-Once your Alpha opened the front door he was quick to lazily stretch, get a few stretched from his dad, and leave. He loved his alone time just as much as he loved his naps in the sun.

💤-Right now you were snuggled up in your nest, in the living room waiting for your mate to get home from his night shift. Villains had been a lot more active lately so he had been out more.

💤-You missed him but you understood he was out keeping the city safe.

💤-You had just slipped away in dream land when you heard the front door open. You were too tired to open your eyes so you let out a small questioning chirp. Shota was quick to respond with his deep one, letting you know he was here.

💤-You blinked your eyes open excitedly. You would have sat up but your bump was hindering you from moving. Obi was already jumping down from the couch going to go greet his master.

💤-He got his head scratches and bounded off. You would probably find him sleeping in the new crib Sho had just set up for the pup. He was gonna get upset when the pup came and he would be kicked out of it.

💤-“How was patrol, Alpha?” You softly mumbled, still not fully awake, you rubbed at your eyes.

💤-Shota walked into the living room. His black outfit was a little dirty but he seemed unharmed. Your Omega purred at your handsome mate. His hair was getting longer making him look even more ruggedly handsome.

💤-“It was fine. I stopped a robbery but other than that it was pretty quiet.” He rumbled, his eyes admiring the way you adorably laid on the couch.

💤-You were buried under soft blankets and pillows, your big bump was the only thing peeking out of the nest. His Alpha purred at the sight. You were a vision. He loved coming home to your sweet smile and lovely voice every day.

💤-“That’s good.” You hummed, stretching your arms out.

💤-“I was gonna take a bath before I got into bed. You want me to take you to bed already?” He asked, looking at the TV to see if you had anything on.

💤-“No, I’m not ready to go to bed yet. Can I join you?” You asked, getting excited at the idea of skin on skin contact.

💤-You might understand why he had been away these past few weeks but your body didn’t. Right now it was screaming for any form of touch. Your Omega whimpered at the low physical contact.

💤-“Do you even after ask.” He purred, helping you stand up and leading you into the bathroom.

***

💤-Steam clouded the bathroom and fogged up the mirrors.

💤-Your back was pushed up against your mate’s toned chest. Sho had his strong arms wrapped around your stomach. He drew lazy circles on your bump. His Alpha was so excited about the pup.

💤-He was constantly whining at him, asking him when he was gonna be able to rub and purr over your bump again. He hated the night patrols as much as Shota did. The only way he got him to calm down was by saying if the city was safe then so was their Omega and pup.

💤-That settled the grumpy Alpha.

💤-He enjoyed quiet moments like these the best. When the air was calm and his thoughts were filled with his beautiful mate.

💤-“How was your day, Omega? Anything interesting?” He coaxed, bring his hands up to rub your scalp.

💤-“The delivery guy knows me by name now.” You pouted, rubbing your stomach.

💤-“You do order from them twice a day.” He chuckled, rubbing in some shampoo into your hair.

💤-“I know, it’s your pups fault. Why do they have to like katsudon so much? It is all I have been eating nowadays.” You grumbled, enjoying the feel of Shota’s fingers rubbing up against your scalp.

💤-“I am just glad the pup is finally eating something sustainable. You had me worried when all you ate was cream cheese and pickles.” He reminded, taking care to wash out the suds in your hair without getting it in your eyes.

💤-“Don’t bring it up. My stomach is still recovering. I can barely look at a pickle now without gagging.” You huffed, letting one of your hands find his and clasping them together.

💤-“Did you remember to take your vitamins today, Omega?” He asked, adding conditioner to your hair now.

💤-“I forgot one time and you won’t let me live it down.” You grumbled, playing with his rough fingers.

💤-“They are important for the pup. I don’t want you to miss a single one.” He rumbled, leaning over to connect your eyes.

💤-“Yes, Alpha.” You stuck your tongue out at him before giving him a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

💤-“That’s what I like to hear.” He grinned, loving your playfulness.

💤-“The water is getting cold, Let’s get out, Alpha.” You turned your head towards him.

💤-“Yes, Omega.” He teased, climbing out before carefully pulling you up. He wrapped a towel around you before pulling one around his hips himself and walked you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the bed before shuffling around the room gathering your clothes.

💤-“Do you want pajama shorts or sweatpants?” He tossed over his shoulder, pulling open a drawer.

💤-“Shorts.” You responded, drying off your hair.

💤-“Tank top or long sleeve?” He asked, tossing you your purple shorts.

💤-“Tank top.”

💤-He helped you slide on the shorts since the task had been getting more difficult for you lately. You had been embarrassed when he first started doing it but now it was normal for him to do.

💤-He had been very attentive ever since he found out about the pup. You loved him even more for it.

💤-He pulled on a pair of black boxers before getting you settled in bed. As much as he hated your pregnancy pillow with a passion he knew your comfort came first. That didn’t mean his Alpha wasn’t gonna throw it out the first chance he got.

💤-He stood at the edge of the bed not yet climbing in behind you.

💤-“You need anything? Water?” He questioned, looking down at your curled up form.

💤-“No. Just you.” You patted the spot behind you.

💤-Although cuddling up on his chest was a thing of the past now that you had to use a pregnancy pillow he switched positions and cuddled up against your back.

💤-He was quick to climb in bed. As soon as he settled he felt you hook your ankle around his.

💤-“Night, Alpha, love you.” You murmured, already feeling sleepy.

💤-“Night, Omega.” He purred, nuzzling his face in your hair before letting sleep take him as well.

Just some domestic fluff. Hope you guy like it! 🖤 In case a few of you didn’t see my post I recently changed my profile picture so be sure to memorize my new one!

Thanks for the support!

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infinitethree · 3 years ago

Note

Dazzzz what are some of your favorite songs???

There’s no indication that Daz heard the question at first. He’s not in the Council rooms, though the room seems to be made of blackstone and obsidian all the same. It’s got cobble, oak planks, and oak logs covering the majority of it, but it’s pretty clear that this is some sort of bunker or safe room. That fact is most obvious by Daz not seeming to feel the need to pretend to be the chatty, bubbly person he had on his first appearance.

Instead his expression is blank to a rather creepy degree and he has a hand of cards. Seated around a table with him are the rest of the Council, who all have poker faces of their own. That’s fitting, because they seem to be playing said game—and by the looks of things, Daz has been winning. Not by much—the rest of them have decently sized piles, too. The smallest of them belongs to Aleph.

There’s only a slight raise of Raine’s eyebrows when he feels the strange sensation of the Observers starting to watch them. “I guess we all get to hear all of the questions directed at any Council member,” he says, earning a soft hum of agreement from Khons. It sounds a little odd because he has his mask on, which feels just a tiny bit like cheating. Then again, he was squarely in the middle as far as winnings went.

“Music,” Daz starts, expression still eerily blank, “Is...a bit weird, for me. If you know about me then you already know I don’t really care about Cat or Mellohi. Those are...relics. Relics of a life I’ve discarded twice over. No, now the music I like is more...mmm. It’s less specific songs and more a specific artist. Orpheus does wonderful work and has become a good friend because of my interest in his music. Not quite as much so as these chucklefucks--” he gestures at the rest of the Council, earning a soft scoff from Raine and a middle finger from Aster, “but moreso than most others. I don’t like them all equally and I don’t like all of them...but overall, I enjoy most of his original pieces and his covers. There’s a flair to them that clicks with me, especially now that I know a decent amount about what his influences are.”

“Make your move. Some of us have places to be.” Khons’ request is quiet, but still heard plenty well enough. Daz grins slightly at it. He gathers his cards and tosses them in the middle. “Fine, fine. I’m folding. Happy?” “Very. Feel free to continue waxing poetic about music,” Khons replies, sounding slightly amused.

“I planned on it. So, while Orph is unquestionably my favorite artist...I’m in the very unique position of having access to a massive library drawing from several realities. I have a bit of an eclectic taste and what I feel a draw to listen to depends on my mood,” Daz continues.

Raine rolls his eyes a little. “I know when he’s brooding because he puts on what I can best describe as opera but metal. It’s his brooding music. I fold too, by the way.” He pushes his own cards forward and then leans back a little. He gets shot a glare by Daz, who sounds indignant. “Go to hell, Raine, I do not brood.” “You definitely do, actually--” Aleph’s answer is cut off by Daz barreling on like he said nothing, “I plot. If someone pissed me off, they will regret that.”

It seems like Raine is enjoying this, if nothing else, because he continues, “I know when something good happened because he puts on pop music--” “Why are you telling them this?!” “--Spite and having fun seeing you show emotions. His sulking music is that sort of rock-alt emo stuff. Then you have the really bouncy stuff with a solid beat—that’s what he puts on when he goes and actually trains. He insists it helps him focus. I’m pretty sure it’s more that he enjoys seeing us be baffled as to what new song he put on the playlist.”

“I raise. Gotta admit,” Aster says, ignoring the righteous fury Daz is directing at Raine, “it does throw you off your game when it switches from an angry breakup song to something about going out to party and getting laid. It’s the worst kind of gamble because there’s no way to win. There are only degrees of losing. Much like anything with Daz--” “Why are you all being assholes?! I’ve done nothing to deserve this treatment--” The protest is met by four loud laughs.

“If you’re going to lie to the Observers,” Khons gasps between wheezes, “at least do it believably!” “You’re all horrible co-workers and I regret gathering you all together,” Daz scoffs, though he doesn’t really seem all that pissed off. More annoyed than anything else.

“Raise. You’re popular today,” Aleph says, that usual Techno monotone holding just a bit of amusement. Daz makes a face, though seems a little displeased by the question. “Dual daggers. We all have armor and weapons from Dee, though we’re not unique in that. There are a decent amount of people who are close with his family who he’s made stuff for. Armor is rarer than weapons because...what was the reason again, Raine?”

“His perfectionist tendencies. If he’s going to do it he’s going to do it right. There’s a lot that goes into making armor perfect for a person—at least, armor that’s been smithed rather than crafted. Weapons are easier, though he doesn’t do those that much more,” Raine answers. Daz leans back in his seat, watching the rest of the table like a hawk. “My style is fast. My favorite game...mm. Again, that depends on my mood. I have a lot of them that I like.” His attention flicks over to Khons, who pushes his cards inwards. “Fold. I’m the one he usually plays those games against. It’s fun, even if he’s insufferable when he wins.”

“You’re just as much so,” Daz says with a shrug. “Call. Also, nah. It’s just satisfying to see you get beat at your own game,” Aleph retorts. Aster sighs as he flips his cards over. “You probably win this one,” he mutters, looking unsurprised when he does, indeed, lose the hand.

Aleph smiles as he pulls the pot to his pile. He’s ahead of Daz now, though that doesn’t seem to bother him much. He rolls his eyes a little as he tells Aleph, “You would excuse anything Khons did. He could kick a three legged puppy and you’d say that the puppy probably deserved it.”

“Well,” the Techno says, eyebrows raising a tiny bit, “considering he’d never normally do that...he would have an explanation.” Khons laughs softly, bumping his shoulder. With a scoff Daz retorts, “That’s my point. He can do no wrong in your eyes—” Aleph cuts him off, eyebrows raising a bit more. “And for good reason. He knows me and I know him. Even if he didn’t have one, I’d still stand by him.”

Khons, despite his mask, is visibly pleased. He leans some of his weight against his friend and says, “Same here. He’s my person. I trust him more than anyone else, including myself.”

The rest of the table bursts into laughter that only grows louder at Daz’s clear confusion. “What the actual fuck are you talking about.” It’s not really a question, more just a statement of bafflement and quite possibly wondering if the asker is sane or not.

“But Daz,” Aster gasps between laughs, “do you have one?” Daz makes a noise of frustration as he says, “I don’t know! What the fuck is an ant brush?!” “Clearly something important,” Raine wheezes out, slumped over on the table from how hard he’s laughing. He manages to compose himself long enough to say, “Oh, that’s—thank you, whichever one of you asked that! He’s going to spend days staring at everything that might possibly be called a brush and wondering if that’s an ant brush. This is the best gift you could have given me.”

Daz glares at him, arms folding over his chest unhappily. “I’m feeling targeted. The rest of you answer the next ones too, or else--”

The threat is cut off by the question, and Daz grins. “I demand everyone else answer first.” “’Leph for both,” Khons says instantly, getting a nod from Aleph. “Moony for me, also both.” “We all get along pretty well—the occasional petty bickering aside,” Aster starts, “But...Raine for talking to, but working with really depends on the task. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.” “I’m close with Aster and Daz, though Khons and Aleph are good friends too. We all have things we do together outside of Council-related work. Partly so that Daz doesn’t lose his mind from the stress of keeping up his batshit web of lies and manipulation.”

“It's not as bad as you’d think,” Daz says, tilting his chair back a little, “it’s fun to keep it up. People are puzzles and talking to them is a game.” This is met by amusement from the rest of them. Aster grins a little and says, “That’s our borderline sociopathic jackass for you. Alright, we answered, your turn.”

Daz makes a soft noise of thought, visibly thinking. “...I get along, for a given value of such, with all of them. Aster the least so, because he’s a prick sometimes--” he pointedly ignores the middle finger he’s given by said alternate version of himself, “--then probably Aleph, then Khons, then Raine. Despite his prick tendencies, Aster is right—working with really depends on the task. For instance, I wouldn’t want Raine to be at my side if I’m trying to beat a problem best solved by brute force. If I need something done without drawing too much attention, Aster is a shit choice—too much focus is on him wherever he goes because of the perception and vague role he has as the public head of the Swords and Shields.”

The rest of them seem entirely unsurprised by the response. Daz gives a slightly sharp grin and adds, “I could rattle off cases where each of them is the best to work with, but why would I go and do that?”

All the good humor among the group vanishes in an instant, especially from the two who were asked the question. Daz turns icy, while Aster has a familiar spark of Tommy anger in his eyes. Even Raine looks pissed.

The ones who look least distressed are Khons and Aleph. It’s not that they’re without anger, it’s more that they have a carefully detached way of showing it. Aleph slowly says, “...We weren’t paying attention to their identities. They didn’t and don’t matter.” Khons says nothing, but there’s a tiny shiver that makes Aleph press against his side protectively.

There’s an edge of dark anger to the frigid tone Daz has. “Leave. You’ll get no more answers, not while you’ve made them feel unsafe.”

Whatever subject was touched on is clearly still raw, and the defensiveness from the rest of them underscores the point that was made—that they’re close, despite any disagreements or bickering. It also underscores that Daz is more than willing to find and use loopholes left in the deal he made.

That could go both ways, though. It’s not out of the question that there are loopholes that favor Observers that could be used in the same way.

Still—there’s nothing else to learn here, not while they remain this angry.

#Asked&Answered #DazzlingVoid #ShiningAster #RaineStorm #GoldenKhons #DarkAleph #CouncilOfTheStar #ChronoTag #long post #Noodley is the second biggest Daz fan #I am the biggest #he's great I love him #also guess whose power was out all yesterday and wrote these during that time #and also I'm writing a birthday fic for a roleswap fren #they requested Atlas and Theo getting yeeted into canon and I said #'hmm. what if ALL the Was-Taken kids AND also two more'#It's Daz and Aster those are the other two #it's currently dubiously canon to all of THIS and idk if that will change

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lycorogue · 4 years ago

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Perfect Doesn’t Need to be Perfect: Chapter 5

Yeah, bit of a heads up, this chapter got away from me and became way more angsty than I intended. 0_0 I'm gonna try to bring this story back to fluffiness in the next chapter. Sorry about that.

In the original story (as you're well aware because I'm sure you've listen to me and read Twelve Days of Chatmas already), this chapter only had a small Ladybug cameo. Which means I more-or-less had free rein on this... probably why the angst was able to creep in. >3< (Can't leave me (creatively) alone for 2 minutes; I swear)

Also, I had no clue what to do with the akuma, so I made some weird Scrooge/Grinch/Hulk hybrid thing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

**Contains Spoilers for Taurus Pixie’s story Twelve Days of Chatmas**

Summary: Chat Noir has run into a long streak of poor luck, all in an attempt to give Ladybug the perfect Christmas gift. Little does he know, his first try was already perfect in Ladybug’s eyes. Now it’s her turn to try to navigate around Chat Noir’s failed attempts in her own pursuit to find something equally fantastic for him. **A Switched-POV Unofficial Companion Story to Twelve Days of Chatmas by @thetauruspixie**

Rating: General Audience

Chapter Word Count: 1683

Story Total Word Count: 37,973

Status: chapter 5 of 12; complete

**For reals, if you haven’t read Twelve Days of Chatmas yet, read that first so my story doesn’t spoil anything for you. It’s cool. This story will still be here when you get back. ;) **

See below for chapter 5, or find this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

CHAPTER 5:

It was an exhausting day. It was a draining day. It was one of the worst days of Marinette's life. She was curled up in a ball on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest as she stared at her corkboard of Adrien pictures. Tears stung her eyes and a hot knot grew in her chest.

“Marinette?” Tikki drifted to her bearer. “Are you okay?”

“Who were they for?” Marinette choked down a sob.

“They?”

“The rings!” She squeezed her eyes shut and curled tighter around her pillow.

The day had started off typical enough. Marinette woke up late for school after a long night of figuring out her gift for Chat Noir. She was reprimanded by both her mother for sleeping in and Miss Bustier for sneaking into class after the tardy bell. She dealt with the normal harassment from Chloe and irritation over her classmates and teachers blindly listening to Lila's lies; everyone but Adrien, of course. Sweet, loyal, handsome, brilliant Adrien.

Marinette had spent so much of that week wondering what to do as a gift for Chat Noir, she didn't realize how little time she had left to pick out Adrien's gift. He was simple though, she had an entire trunk filled with gifts for him. She just needed to sort out which one she wanted to give him this year. It helped get her through the day to imagine the beaming smile on Adrien's face as he opened up her present. He may just fall in love with her then and there if she picked out the perfect one to give him next week. She fantasized about that during her walk home and through her homework, which, arguably, took longer to accomplish due to said daydreaming.

With her daily duties taken care of, she knelt by her trunk, opened it up, started pulling out various sweaters and hats and mittens, and then her phone buzzed. An akuma was attacking the west end of Paris. Grumbling about the interruption, Marinette quickly transformed and headed towards the Champs-Élysées.

She heard the screaming first, and then had to quickly dodge a car flung through the air. Adjusting her trajectory, Ladybug swung so she was on a roof behind the akumatized villain. It was a hulking man nearly four meters tall. He was covered head to toe in green fur, and his upper body was built like a barrel of muscle. Shreds of a Victorian-era caroling costume hung off his shoulders and his pants were ripped where his legs clearly grew upon getting his powers.

“No Christmas!” the villain yelled as he stripped lights from a nearby storefront, and used them as a whip to lasso a decorated tree. With a big yank, he pulled the spruce from the ground, and he hurled it towards a crowd of shoppers trying to escape.

Ladybug sprung into action and lassoed the tree herself, swinging it away from the civilians and into a brick wall.

“Ladybug!” A chorus of people cheered as they pointed towards her. She quickly swung down to the sidewalk and shooed them away.

The green monster roared at her, picked up a plastic Santa statue, and hurled it at Ladybug. She easily blocked it with her yo-yo, then skirted behind the villain again. Sliding between his massive legs, she effortlessly tangled the villain up in her yo-yo and hurled him into an empty store. Slamming the door shut, she blocked it with one of the uprooted trees.

“Hopefully that will slow you down for a minute.” She looked up and down the street for more shoppers evacuating. There was chaos. The streets were already flooded with Parisians out shopping for Christmas, but hoards of tourists were there too. It would certainly be a hard battle to keep everyone safe while the villain raged in such a crowded location. “Where are you, Chat Noir?”

She checked her yo-yo, and once again there weren't any messages. She also didn't see him on her map. He wasn't powered up yet. She'd have to do the evacuation on her own. Sprinting up and down the street, she checked each storefront to make sure they were empty. Behind her, she heard the akuma roar again as he burst through the door.

That didn't last nearly as long as I would have hoped. Ladybug silently cursed. She glanced past her shoulder and saw the monster again tearing lights off the storefronts and destroying every last Christmas decoration. He barely moved from the empty store he had crashed out of. This could work, Ladybug thought. If he's that distracted by all the decorations, he might stay up where it's evacuated. I just need to watch for- She ducked under another Christmas tree aimlessly thrown down the street.

She checked the next half-dozen stores from each side of the street. They were either already clear or the last citizens were just leaving as she reached them.

Then she saw him.

Ladybug had caught up with the tail end of the escaping mob, and they stampeded past a blonde boy coming out of a jewelry store. As the crowd cleared the storefront, the boy was on his hands and knees, and looking quite distraught. Ladybug instantly recognized the swoop of his blonde locks, the slight rosy blush on his milky cheeks, and the blue knitted scarf wrapped around his neck.

“A-Adrien?” Ladybug swung across the street and landed beside him. She quickly glanced back to see how far away the villain was. They were safe, but she wasn't sure for how long. “A-are you alright?”

“L-Ladybug?” Adrien jumped a little as he noticed her beside him.

“Are you hurt?” He had been nearly trampled by that crowd, and he was on the ground now. She quickly circled him as she scanned for any injuries. Her cheeks warmed as she grew nervous that she wasn't able to protect him, and now he was hurt, and he'd hate her forever, and never consider her a hero again, and she'd forever lose her chance with him – not like she had a chance with him as Ladybug anyway since he could never know who she was, but-

“N-no, I'm fine.”

She let out a long sigh and rested a hand on her chest to try to will her heart to calm down. “What are you doing here? You need to find somewhere safe right away. There's an akuma on the loose!”

“I-” His eyes dropped to his closed left hand, and then to the sidewalk.

Ladybug's gaze followed Adrien's. There were four golden rings scattered on the ground in front of him. One had an emerald with three rubies in a tiny triangle on either side. Another had small diamonds encrusting one side, and onyx on the other in an almost yin-yang pattern where they met at the middle. A third had grains of garnet and emerald embedded in the band in an alternating pattern with obsidian in between each gemstone. The fourth ring had garnet and onyx lining the golden band in an almost ladybug-like pattern. The thought made her blush a little as she quickly scooped them up and passed them over to Adrien.

He opened his hand to accept the rings, and the one he was already holding had a large princess-cut ruby in the center, surrounded by a frame of emeralds. It must have been unbelievably expensive, and it almost looked like an engagement ring. Ladybug's cheeks burned a bit hotter, and her eyes stung slightly.

“What pretty rings.” She forced a small smile as she swallowed down the knot in her throat. I wish they were for me. She choked down another sob and forced her smile to grow as she handed the other four rings over. This person must be very important to him to spend so much.

“Oh...” Adrien let the word hang in the thick air between them. “Yeah...” He wouldn't look her in the eyes as he pulled the hand filled with rings close to his chest.

“Anyway!” Ladybug refocused. It didn't matter who those rings were for. What mattered was that there was a rampaging akuma just up the street, and Adrien was still in danger. “You need to get somewhere safe. Chat Noir and I will handle this.”

“Yeah.” Adrien shifted awkwardly to his feet as he put the rings and their respective boxes back into the bag from the jeweler.

Giving Adrien one last smile, she sprinted towards the villain; hoping her love would be alright, and that Chat Noir would show up to help soon.

Her partner did indeed show up just as she reached the rampaging akuma, and they were able to stop him not long after. It was a hard battle though; both her and Chat Noir either dodged a lot of heavy things hurled at them, or were tossed around themselves. The suit protected Ladybug from injury, but it was still exhausting work. It didn't help that Chat Noir still didn't seem himself, but Ladybug had her own problems. She just didn't have the energy to try to talk to him about the birds from the night before, or the hens the day before that. They barely had the time left in their transformations anyway, so they had a halfhearted fist bump and went their separate ways.

The second Ladybug got home she dropped onto her bed in a flop, and grabbed hold of her pillow to muffle her sobs as her superhero costume vanished.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” Tikki, weak but still filled with concern, drifted closer to her bearer.

Above Marinette the sky darkened, and below her the gifts to Adrien were forgotten across her floor. It wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing she'd give him could possibly turn his eye away from a woman he cared for so deeply he bought her five gorgeous and expensive looking rings.

Marinette cried herself to sleep, and dreamt of standing outside a cathedral during Adrien's wedding to a mysterious faceless woman.

Thank you for reading. Read Next Chapter

Read from the beginning: Chapter 1

Please let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list.

@discoveringmiraculouswriters

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

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Interlude: Second Best

long·ing | \ ˈlȯŋ-iŋ : a strong desire especially for something unattainable guardian demon!Jimin x reader genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural word count: 4.9k Related works: See Masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin POV switch for Jamais Vu A/N: IT’S ANGSTY LOLLL woops and a little longer than i had planned tbh but i hope you enjoy it all the same, because this will give you some insight when the tone shifts in the next couple of chapters :DD Again, thank you SO SO SO much for the wait and support! I love you all!! I hope you like this chapter! 💜💜💜🥺🥺🥺 (also, without meaning to, The Truth Untold really fits as an OST here... LOL)

Tag: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b

He needs to stop doing that.

Tempting himself with little touches whenever he gets the chance. They’re harmless enough but he might as well be dissecting his own heart at an excruciatingly slow pace.

But he’s come to know by now that he doesn’t have much sense when it comes to you.

Jimin moves through the crowd like a phantom, passing by without so much as a second glance from anyone despite your lack of trust with his choice of attire. To others, he’s just another traveler trying to get to where they need to go. And right now, he’s shadowing you, eyes trained on the back of yours and your friend’s head. He’s got a clear view even when Jimin is a good twenty or so steps back and there’s a wall of people separating him from you, keeping well to his word that he would be discreet enough that you won’t even notice him.

He watches from a far as you and your friend are excitedly chattering away with two girls whom you have never met before as if you have always known them. The entire interaction makes his lips curl with an amused smile. Under different circumstances, Jimin would think it all stupid; not really understanding how ridiculously trusting you were being just because you all shared a common love for a group of musical artist yet somehow, seeing you makes it strangely wholesome.

It’s in those moments that he chances a glimpse of what humanity could be but ultimately choose not to.

Jimin eventually leaves you, weirdly confident that you’re in good hands as he hails an airport limo. One almost immediately pulls up beside him, the man hastily getting out.

“Good morning sir, where are we heading off to today?” The driver asks as he comes around to pull the door open for Jimin to duck in, gliding into the seat.

“The Ritz-Carlton, downtown.”

The man nods in acknowledgement, shutting the door once he’s sure Jimin is settled before jogging back to the driver’s seat. The drive there is quiet, something the demon is thankful for because he’s not in a particular mood to humour anyone. He takes the time to slip the black surgical mask off, finally feeling the cooler air hit against his warmer skin. He exchanges it for a pair of shades he pulls from his duffle, slipping them on before he crosses his arms, sighing deeply and sinks into the plush leather.

The traffic gets noticeably more congested the closer the car comes to the downtown area so it takes a while before the entrance to the hotel comes into view. Jimin hands off a couple of bills to the driver when he opens the door for him again, hauling his duffle bag and jacket as he steps out. The driver courteously bids him a good day but Jimin only has half the mind to offer a grunt in response, heading off into the lobby in long strides to the front desk where a man in a pristinely pressed suit greets him. He’s quickly given the keys to his room and is escorted to the lifts, the bellhop offering to take his things but Jimin waves a dismissive hand, keeping to himself as much as possible.

By the time he gets to his suite, he’s feels unreasonably weary and all but tosses his duffle bag carelessly to the foot of the king size bed along with his shades to collapse into the soft embrace of Egyptian cotton sheets. Jimin shuts his eyes for a moment, hands coming up to rub the bridge of his nose as another deep exhale leaves him.

If he was a normal human being, Jimin shouldn’t be feeling this tired since for majority of the plane ride, he had fallen into quite a deep slumber. But since he’s in fact not a human being, it only raises concerns. Lately, he’s noticed that he’s been sleeping a lot more — way more than a demon should be doing considering they don’t sleep at all (it’s viewed as more of a leisure activity to do rather than something that’s required) and if he’s not sleeping, he’s constantly feeling like he’s got a bad case of lethargy. It’s troubling and also irritating as hell, but Jimin already suspects its the unfortunate byproduct of having completed two acts of the five he needs to do.

And has no idea how to do the rest.

His eyes slip open then, brows furrowing with dark obsidian orbs glaring into the cream coloured ceiling like it would give him the answers. The second act was a stroke of luck on his part, Jimin thinks; a matter of being in the right place at the right time and for very good reasons. He can’t imagine accomplishing the rest in the same manner.

Running a hand through his hair, Jimin contemplates a little longer until he huffs out an agitated sigh. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it won’t do him to mull over this problem endlessly, figuring that he can be at least thankful that there doesn’t seem to be any particular deadline (knock on wood). Glancing at the beside clock, he sees the red numbers reading 1:36PM and idly wonders if you’re still at the venue no doubt soaking in all the excitement and activity going on.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, already imagining you, eyes alight with the biggest grin on your face as you try to take everything in. Finally, he hauls himself to sit up, giving his neck a few stretches before he gets off the bed to make his way to the en suite bathroom. With so much time to waste, Jimin hopes that a cold shower would help wash away a bit of his fatigue, quite literally. Besides that, he hasn’t felt any intense negative emotions from you which more than likely means everything is fine, for now.

He half-heartedly shuts the door, reaching up to grasp his shirt from the back of his neck to pull over his head. The black tee is dropped to the floor without much care, along with the rest of his clothes. He passes by the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself and though it was brief, the image reflecting back at him made him grimace all the same.

The natural glow on his skin had long since dulled, making him appear as if Jimin hadn’t seen the sun in months, the ghost of blue veins and bruises peeking from beneath made even more visible from how pale he’s become. The tattoo crest over the left side of his chest is faded, almost in a way where the ink is slowly being rubbed off a little bit more each day — another indication of his reduced powers. He’s lost a bit of weight, most noticeably around his face and although it’s defined his jawline significantly, his cheeks are at risk of hollowing out soon.

It’s only truly been a day, and yet now he is nothing more than a withering, duller version of who he’s supposed to be.

A cheap imitation.

He scoffs, a humourless sort of laugh. How ironic it is that he’s come to care more on what’s supposed to be a very superficial part of being a demon, perhaps even found meaning to.

When he steps into the clear glass shower stall, Jimin turns the water until it runs ice cold before stepping under. He inhales sharply at the first contact, the shock in the temperature hitting against his more warmer skin but he quickly grows numb to it, grateful for the way the water seems to ease the discomfort growing along his shoulder blades. Jimin doesn’t know how long he stands there, eyes shut and lulled by the sounds of the running shower beating down on him and echoing around in the enclosure.

It’s a temporary respite from his thoughts and when he finally decides to shut the water off, he feels a little more alert. He towels himself off, wrapping one around his slim waist as he heads back into the large bedroom to grab a change of clothes from his duffle.

Once he’s dressed, he dries his hair and by the time he’s done, the clock reads near five. The show starts in two and a half hours, he supposes he should get a scope of the venue. Grabbing the black surgical mask, Jimin secures the ends behind his ears, preparing to apparate to the arena when —

He stops midstep.

Ah, right.

A rush of air leaves his nose, cocking his head as your words replay in his head. He already hears your chastising tone with them too.

He quietly chuckles to himself, then continues walking, heading to his door.

With as much discretion as he could manage (okay, he might’ve cheated here and there by cloaking himself), he makes it to the venue which wasn’t so bad of a walk from the hotel. No one pays attention to him, with the hood of his pullover drawn up he was just another faceless person in the passing crowd. It only really got trickier the closer he came to the epicentre of it all.

He sticks to the shadows and less populated spots, staying out of sight and blending in wherever he can. There are still some large crowds gathered at some of the booths, trying to take advantage of the quickly dwindling number of patrons who have already moved on to getting into the arena. Others are running as fast as their feet can carry them, racing against time in whatever it is they needed to do while it seems like eighty percent of the concert goers are in a line, excitedly chatting and impatient to have the show start. It’s a hubbub of activity, boisterous and charged with energy that even Jimin has a bit of a struggle orienting himself. So not much later, he slinks towards the side alley of the building where the crowds tend to avoid.

It grows a little quieter the further he moves down the path, the jumble of voices becoming more muffled. The asphalt paving is cracked in numerous places with some giving way to potholes that Jimin can only guess is from how often trucks carrying equipment for events pass through here, or even ones meant to empty the dumpsters pressed up against the walls. Weeds sprout long and thin against them in bunches, pushing tenaciously through the cracks and somehow still managing to grow in spite of the lack of good soil. The poor upkeep alone is enough to deter anyone from wandering back here, which means Jimin can peacefully explore the area.

His strides slow without the rushing need to remain hidden, strolling along the alley before his eyes come across a door right beside one of the large dumpsters, perfectly situated so that it’s almost concealed. It lacks any handle, the only thing visible was a metal plate ridge on the side and a silver keyhole. Jimin supposes this meant that the door opens one way, probably for employees to quickly throw out the trash but otherwise is not by any means a point of entry.

Perfect.

He takes one more glance around, makes sure no one is looking and then with all of his concentration, phases through. Immediately his senses are bombarded by the booming of the bass as well as the far off distant hustle of people, but he pushes all of it aside in trying to shake off the fuzzy haze clouding his sight and the light thrumming in his head. Jimin presses a palm to his forehead, shutting his eyes with gritted teeth until the feeling subsides and he straightens himself, a little flabbergasted.

Fuck, this is going to suck.

He pushes the disconcerting fact that phasing through a door was enough to make him dizzy, focusing on doing what he came here to do; find a loophole in security and make sure you won’t get hurt at any point during the night — easy.

With light steps, Jimin makes his way out of the corridor, coming into an area spacious enough to have golf carts driving through (no sooner had he thought that, one goes zooming by). It vaguely reminds him of an underground parking garage except less…dingy. There are a few people walking about, busy with their heads down engrossed in their phones or sheets of papers in their hands and he easily recognizes them as part of the crew from the lanyards that dangle around their neck. A pretty, pastel coloured thing that easily catches his eye against the mostly all black uniform they sport.

He walks for a bit, almost as if entranced by the muffled songs and distant cheers that echo all around him until he comes across the hallway leading to the artist waiting room. It’s much busier and noisier, people scuttling in and out with multiple voices giving orders, updates, laughing, calling out for others in Korean and…is that singing?

The more Jimin listens, the more he picks out the melodic flow of a scale being sung, ranging from high, airy lilting tones to much more deep and richer timbres. He recognizes the tunes, songs you play when you study, get ready for the morning or unconsciously hum under your breath — songs that have grown on him.

Gradually, the singing becomes louder and suddenly Jimin sees an entourage of people exiting out of a room all at once. He instinctively side steps back until he’s concealed by the shadows offered by a large pillar, continuing to watch the scene unfold in front of him that way.

They stand out amongst the many staff members crowding them and not just because they’re dressed in absurdly black sparkly suits. Hair immaculately styled and complexion as pore-less as porcelain, Jung Hoseok, otherwise known as J-Hope, strolls out adjusting his headset before brushing his hands down on his jacket, straightening it out as a woman dabs finishing powder delicately on the tip of his nose. Quick to follow is Kim Taehyung, or V, still doing vocal warm-ups as he comes to stand beside the older member to wait for the others. They’re strikingly handsome in their own distinct ways, Hoseok with his high cheekbones and swooping nose bridge that makes for an arresting side profile while Taehyung with a round face tapering down to a strong jawline and near symmetrical features makes for a face that seems too unreal to be true.

A small part of him is aware that he shouldn’t be lingering like this because the unspoken rule is that a demon should never confront or even come into close proximity of the one they’re masquerading as for very obvious reasons. It’s risky and puts him in danger but there’s a morbid curiousity that’s gnawing at him, compelling him to stay and it’s not long before he sees him.

The owner of the sweet lilting voice that sounds much like his own, yet not at the same time.

Dressed much like his waiting members, BTS’ Park Jimin emerges from the artist waiting room, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, strides so languid and purposeful that one can mistaken the plain, industrial hallway to be a high fashion catwalk instead. He’s singing softly but puts emphasis on certain phrases to get the pitch right, sometimes repeating as if he’s not satisfied with the way it sounds. He’s practically glowing, hair a halo of rich honey blond, styled and coiffed to show his face which is made up of a myriad of contradictions — soft full cheeks are paired with a sharp jaw, full lips and slightly puffy eyes that can drown anyone with a sultry gaze; the perfect balance of lust and innocence.

As a demon, even he has to admit he’s impressed.

Hoseok makes a noise of appraisal, scanning the younger over and it makes a smile bloom, eyes scrunching until they disappear before he gives a light shove to the older man’s shoulder, giggling in clear embarrassment. A playfulness takes over the small group, conversation flowing easily with a few teases thrown here and there that anyone could see the strong familial bond the boys share amongst each other.

It’s so strange, he thinks, watching them as if through a looking glass with his eyes fixated on this person who’s very much real, living out a completely different life than his, beloved by all and equally admired by many.

Someone who you love.

That alone should ignite a jealous flame that consumes him, and yet the only one who he’s spiteful of is himself.

“Oh Jimin are those new earrings?” Taehyung says, reaching a finger out to brush the thin silver chains hanging from the small hoop they’ve been threaded through.

“Ah yeah, I wanted to try out a new style so I combined two of them.”

“They look good.”

Jimin preens at the compliment, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he shakes his head a little, making the earrings twinkle in the light. As his head lolls to one side, something catches his eye for a brief second, making him straighten at attention, smile faltering. The sudden shift startles his friend.

“Why? What’s up?” Taehyung asks, eyes impossibly wide as they flit from Jimin’s face to where his friend’s gaze is trained.

The blond blinks, mouth parted to speak but finds trouble in trying to describe what he saw out of the corner of his eyes. “I— Just now, I thought I saw a person….by the pillar there. But…I couldn’t really tell.”

Boldly, Taehyung takes steps around so that he could get a better angle of the pillar but remain at a safe distance, leaning his weight fully to one side in hopes of catching whatever it is that Jimin thinks he saw, but all there is is just a shadow being cast.

“There’s nothing there Jimin-ah… Maybe you were imagining it? Are you that nervous?”

 “No I’m not!” Jimin punches Taehyung lightly, the gibe taking the edge off a little but just to give himself his own peace of mind, Jimin takes a look as well, finding nothing in the space behind. He doesn’t know what to make of it however, he’s not given the time to mull over it because the rest of his group mates show up and they finally start heading to the stage lift, their eagerness and seemingly boundless energy carries him away, reminding him of other more important matters at hand.

Admittedly though, he can’t help but still feel a little in disbelief over it because he could’ve sworn there was someone watching him.

The show gets under way splendidly, the level of excitement palpable even from where he’s hidden. During that time, the demon has made his way to a spot right at the corner under the catwalk, the low lighting and barricade helps in making it easier for him to blend in as the silhouettes of the security guards posted around the perimeter, rarely having to conceal himself using his powers. Jimin has spotted you a couple of times, your figure peeking in between others and every time he sees you, you’re having the time of your life. The ever-changing spotlights cast pretty colours on you, dancing over your face and making the smile you had seem to radiate even more.

He finds himself caught up in watching you rather than the amazing performance thousands of other people have their eyes fixated on.

The only time he stops is when you push yourself through the crowd in order to get a better view of the idol he’s impersonating. It’s hard not to when the young man does such a brilliant job at commanding the stage, filling it up in spite of performing alone. He watches on, fascinated yet unable to for long as it only stirs up complicated feelings at having to face what he so painfully lacks.

You on the other hand, are completely enraptured; eyes focused and trying to drink in the image of him as much as they can but past the open awe and adoration, Jimin picks up on something that he can’t quite seem to place — something he can only describe as melancholy, like you’re already starting to miss the idol despite him being right in front of you. He doesn’t understand why.

As the music switches up, so does the mood as the hype level rises astronomically. The band members have the whole arena up on their feet, jumping, dancing and singing (or screaming?) to the lyrics. The atmosphere is hot and in more ways than one, with all the lights and the numerous bodies moving in one mass. Jimin swears everyone has worked up a sheen of sweat, even himself who’s yet to really move a muscle. At one point, he had actually snuck a water bottle for a drink, the growing humidity almost suffocating.

He tries to focus in on his heartbeat which seems to beat in sync to the heavy bass but the flashing lights and loud cheers make it hard, his senses bombarded. It takes a while before eventually the staccato thrumming in his chest slows until it doesn’t feel like it would burst through his ribs. It tapers off to a much steadier rhythm, almost as if he were deep in sleep.

But then it continues to slow even further.

Alarmed, Jimin’s hand flies up to press against the spot in search of a pulse, breath suddenly coming out short to find that he can barely feel it there. For a moment, he’s confused until a chill runs through him that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. His immediate reaction is to look for you, eyes searching frantically in the crowd. It frustratingly takes a while as he realizes he’s lost you a bit but eventually he finds you and what he sees makes his stomach drop.

You’re slightly hunched over like you’re fighting to keep yourself upright on weak knees, standing out so clearly amongst the sea of moving bodies. When you manage to straighten yourself, he catches sight of your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, the sheen of sweat reflecting off of the strobing light and not helping with your feverish look.

And then your eyes roll back and you’re tipping over.

His mouth falls open and the shout that slips past falls on deaf ears, smothered by the music and incessant screaming. Jimin’s reaching out before he could even think about the risk of being found, his panic driving him as he sees you being swallowed by the crowd, the bodies intermingling and threatening to close in around you and make him lose sight of you. It all seems to be happening in slow motion, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s the one who’s causing the time distortion, his desperation manifested.

In those long seconds, JImin moves purely on instincts, teleporting himself in short bursts to reach you and soon as he feels his hand close around your wrist, he apparates the both of you with every ounce of magic he can summon.

There’s a whistling of air in his ears and the next second, he’s crash landing against a brick wall. His back hits it hard, crumpling to the ground instantly and he lets out a low groan, teeth gritting as his eyes screws shut at the pounding in his head. Everything aches, his body screaming at him from the strain but the only thing Jimin cares about is the fact that he’s managed to take most of the brunt force of his sloppy landing from you who’s safely cradled in his arms.

Fighting through the pain, he immediately directs his attention down at you, blinking away the black spots in his vision hastily.

“Hey…!” Jimin calls out, voice gravelly and still breathless. He shoves down the mask covering his mouth, the first touch of cooler air a relief against his warm, damp skin and it feels like he’s properly breathing now. He cups a hand to your clammy cheek, not liking how the colour seems to have been drained from them as he checks for a pulse, which thankfully is still strong. He brushes the hair away from your face, propping you up in a more comfortable position, softly murmuring words of encouragement even if you might not hear them.

Jimin’s not exactly sure if he should be doing something more drastic than simply hope that you would wake on your own but luckily he didn’t have to resort to such measures when he sees your lids begin to flutter. Slowly, your eyes slip open and though you’re clearly very out of it still, Jimin already feels the pressure on his chest alleviate.

“Y/N….? Hey Y/N, can you hear me?”

It takes a minute before the focus returns in your gaze a little more, but Jimin waits patiently. He takes the time to do a once over on you, noting that your complexion is gradually getting better and from the looks of it, you didn’t seem to sustain any external injuries, much to his relief.

“Ji…Jimin…?” Your voice comes out raw and cracked, drawing his attention at the first call of his name.

No, not yours.

His brows furrow as he pushes away the intrusive thought, his first priority being to make sure you were okay. Jimin uncaps the water bottle in his hoodie pocket, gently feeding it to you until you found your strength, taking and gulping down the rest at an impressive speed.

“Slow down cherub…”

At least you were resilient, he thinks.

The next few moments were spent letting you rest and recuperate. When you were more clear headed, he fills you in on how you ended up out here in the side alley of the arena however, what soon followed after wasn’t something that he had meant to happen.

Maybe it was partially his fault, not truly realizing how high his emotions ran but the way you had shot to your feet, legs only barely holding you up and your first thought was getting back to the arena as quickly as you can, completely disregarding the state you were in all for the sake of…what? Getting a glimpse of your idol? At what cost?

Whatever it was, he would not stand for your recklessness and blind loyalty to the point where you will endanger yourself.

But no matter how hard he tries, his words doesn’t reach you and the mounting frustration builds until it has the both of you screaming at each other.

“Can you just lay off?! I’m fine!”

“You can barely hold yourself up! I’m not letting you put yourself in danger!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Y/N LOOK AT ME!”

That was the last straw for Jimin, hands grasped on either of your shoulders as if he could shake some sense into you. You’re both panting, out of breath from the exertion but you’re finally looking at him. He takes in the way your pupils tremble, whether from fright or from nerves, and the way they shine as if with unshed tears.

Why?

There’s a desperation in them, so intense that it almost scares Jimin but no matter how much he gazes into your irises, the question still remains….

“Why….?”

He whispers unconsciously, the one word ringing loud between you, even above the echoing cheers. You don’t respond immediately, overtaken by a flurry of emotions that flit through your eyes so quickly that Jimin has trouble discerning them. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, sentences starting but dying before you can get the rest of the words trapped in your throat out until ultimately, you give up.

You turn away, eyes downcast as he hears you utter weakly, “Forget it…Please, you— you wouldn’t understand….”

He freezes, the statement seeming to pierce through him with a flooding of realizations; the images of you all starstruck as you watch Jimin, the idol, performing come rushing back to him so vividly it’s like he’s reliving it again. And it’s then that he is reminded of the fact —

It’s Jimin who dances with such poise and grace.

Jimin who sings with a voice that entrances thousands, millions.

Jimin who shines on stage, with a sweet smile, a gentle aura and a warm heart.

Not him.

No, he won’t ever be as good as the original Jimin. Especially not now, given how he’s not even sure what he is anymore.

He notices your hand clenching tightly at your side, how withdrawn you are from him and it’s made clear that he's not winning this fight – maybe even foolishly thinking he had that chance to begin with.

He steps back, away from you in resignation, acceptance. “You’re right…. I wouldn’t…”

With nothing more to say, you leave and he only watches until you disappear from his sights. Left to his thoughts, he retreats back into the dark of night, a place of comfort and familiarity.

Perhaps it’s better this way, to have you long for and love the image of idol Jimin, someone much more fitting to be a light in your life and for him to remain the shadow that follows you from afar. This way, you'll be much happier.

Even when, deep down, he wishes so selfishly for you to call him by his true name.

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