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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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more of the mutually assured destruction duo, post-prison this time! this one was really fun, thinking about what this dynamic might be like in the future gives me SO much brainrot, im so excited. this one’s also a little dark, so make sure to read the warnings + tags !! :D

tw: implied prison abuse, starvation, toxic relationship, touch starvation, manipulation, panic attack, trauma, blood, injury

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison.

And it's ironic, because Wilbur hasn't even been around, has been in hell for fuck's sake playing Competitive Solitaire for nine-odd years, but even he could've seen the self-destruction hanging like a cloud around the other's head from a million miles (and several months? years?) away. Perhaps, he thinks wryly, you can only see the signs when you've lived them, or maybe red flags don't raise alarm when you’ve painted the entire figure in blood, but it doesn't really matter, in the end, because the final result is the same.

Still, it's just a little funny when he's stopped in the middle of his journey through the Nether, not a piece of armor on him per usual and an unused netherite sword slung over his hip.

"Hello, Sapnap." The kid is standing in front of him, eyes gleaming in badly-hidden anger and desperation, smoke rising from the mottled red-black skin on his hands. "Fancy seeing you around."

"You-" Sapnap sputters, unable to speak as his face flushes red in frustration, and Wilbur smiles at him condescendingly. The expression on the other's face is one he's seen before - one Tommy had been particularly inclined to give him in the past, when his emotions raged so heavily that there was nothing for the pressure to do but build, too thick and heavy to force themselves out of his throat. "You're monsters," Sapnap manages, finally, and Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.

At least we're self-aware, he thinks, the all-too-familiar twinge of irritation at Tommy's - and apparently, Sapnap's particular brand of reckless naivety pulsing at the base of his skull. He lets none of these thoughts show on his face as he cocks his head to the side, smiles wider - and Sapnap, just like Tommy, takes the bait.

'Why are you smiling?" He looks achingly young - they all do, really, their expressions and reactions dripping with a sort of innocence and sincerity that dissolved from Wilbur's own face somewhere around the fifteen-hundreth game of poker, and it really does feel ironic, how quickly the outside world can fall apart compared to the unending constancy of the void - but he digresses.

He didn't know Sapnap well before his whole death thing, and as much as he wants to use his partner to get information on the other members of the server, he doesn't really think Dream is really even lucid enough for that - the man clearly hasn't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. It doesn't matter, though, because you learn to read people when your life becomes nothing but running the same broken-edged memories over and over again in your mind and smiling jaggedly over the same few card games - Wilbur had always been a people watcher, and Sapnap's feelings are stamped on every corner of his face.

"Monster, huh," he says, saying the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he's tasting it for the first time, watching from the corner of his eye as Sapnap squirms, "Interesting word you've got here. You use it often?"

Sapnap bristles, smoke curling from his nostrils - "It's what you are, dickhead."

Rolling his eyes internally, Wilbur keeps up the act, humming as he fiddles idly with his cufflink. "I mean, if you really believe that," he rocks forward on his right foot, stifling a smile at the way the younger draws back, "But really, it's all a matter of perspective." He twists himself around, pivoting around his heel, beginning to walk in an arc around Sapnap's left side, watching as he spins around, shoulders drawn up to his ears. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're full of shit," he says, voice flat, and Wilbur laughs. It's genuine, really, because well - Sapnap's different. He's fun; the entire server is, after so long in the void. You can only spend so much time with the same two people before they drive you a little up the metaphorical wall, but Sapnap's reactions are fresh and new and different, still saturated with vitality that hasn’t been leached out by the same deck of cards in the same scarred hands shuffled and reshuffled for eternity. He's interesting, and new, and most of all, predictable.

"Say, Sapnap," he continues, blowing over the other's anger, knowing that it'll only make the frustration build more. He lets his hair flop lazily over one eye, lets his smile grow wider, lips pressed together in amusement, turns his face so that it's lit eerily by the lava lake beneath them. "If we're monsters for, I don't know, setting off a few stacks of TNT," he waves his hand flippantly, watching the muscle of the other's jaw jump in poorly-hidden rage, "What does that make you for what you did to Dream?"

Sapnap's eyes go wide, and Wilbur knows he's struck the jackpot. He lets his lips part to reveal bared teeth, jagged and glinting in the light. "I'm sorry, did that hit a nerve?"

The kid's mouth opens- closes- emotions warring on his face, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, lip trembling. "We- we had to-" his hands come to his face, palms digging into his eyes, and while he's not looking, Wilbur draws his expression back a bit, becoming softer, more welcoming. When Sapnap looks back up, his eyes are shining, hands shaking still; he steps forward, then rocks back on his back foot like he doesn't know where to go. "What do you mean?" he throws the words like they're meant to be a threat, but by the end his voice has devolved into something high-pitched and keening, overflowing with desperate grief that Wilbur latches onto like a starving man (ha) with his last meal.

"I'm sorry, it does seem rather insensitive for me to assume," he resumes pacing around the other, voice lilting, soft, "I just mean, it seemed pretty obvious, don't you think? I don't think I've ever seen someone so skinny, really, but I guess that is what happens when you get starved,"

"Shut up-"

"Not to mention the whole panicking thing, I mean, he's like Tommy sometimes with all of the fucking shaky breathing and mumbling around like creepers, not that I'd know what all of that's about," he watches Sapnap through half-hooded eyes, darkly amused, "and pickaxes, oddly enough, but oh well. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up-"

"And all of the scars - I thought they were from you, honestly, he told me about the whole 'taking his last life' thing, but then he jumped into lava one day - I guess there wasn't much to do in that cell, huh? He didn't even scream, it's really pretty fucking incredible - I thought I'd actually have to break him down a bit, but really, you've made my life so much easier-"

"SHUT UP-"

Wilbur watches with a too-wide grin as Sapnap finally, finally charges, a netherite sword appearing in his hand as he races blindly ahead, tears shining on his cheeks, his words more pain than thought as he brings the blade down-

A blur of purple, the sound of crumbling netherrack and metal meeting metal, flesh hitting flesh - Wilbur moves smoothly out of the way as Sapnap crashes to the ground, an armored figure bearing down an axe against the shield he's raised between them.

Dream, hair tangled and long, wearing armor that is far too heavy for his skinny frame, every inch of him shaking in panic, should hardly be a threat - but this is Sapnap, weakened by Wilbur's sharp words and crippled by the shock of seeing his former best friend's face again, eyes still unfocused from the rage and tears that had clouded over them moments before, so he can do little but raise his shield as the netherite slams into it, again and again. Not a word falls from Dream's lips, but he brings down the weapon at a ruthless pace - ever since he's been free, his attack style has changed greatly from the defensive style he used to favor, even to Wilbur's untrained eye - there's no skill, no art to the way he attacks anymore, just the fearful ferocity of a dog trapped in a cage for far, far too long.

He finally kicks Sapnap down the netherrack cliff that they're on, the other man left to nurse his wounds below them - Wilbur doesn't bother sparing him another thought; Dream's far too weak to cause any permanent damage. Instead, he approaches his partner, weapon, with a smile, watching, satisfied, when he whirls around with a manic expression.

"I'm alright, see?" he croons as Dream's shoulders move up and down with his heaving breaths, eyes fever-bright, teeth bared. He brings a hand down on the other's shoulder and watches as he flinches at the movement, breath hitching, every muscle freezing, knuckles pale on the handle of his axe, before moving again, stumbling forwards, hands reaching for Wilbur's head and stopping halfway. Wilbur tips his head forward, lets the shorter brush his face with trembling fingers, checking his unmarred skin for blood through the purpling bruises already forming on his cheek, and thinks how powerful he is to have a god at his beck and call, a perfect attack dog brought to heel, death itself obediently at his side.

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison, and as Wilbur runs his hand up and down his back, feeling the way his spine arches at the touch, at the fluttering pulse under the skin-and-bone wrist under his fingers, he thinks how fortunate he is to be the first to notice.

#old stuff :]#queue <3 #tw abuse #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw toxic relationship #tw blood #tw injury #tw trauma #tw touch starvation #mutually assured destruction duo my beloved #post prison dream brainrot always lmao #my writing :D #my asks !!

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Victor’s Encounter Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Edit: This date has been released in EN!

The date begins with MC in her office at 11pm, preparing Victor’s “big surprise”

Over the past two weeks, she has been sending Victor small gifts to express her gratitude for his help in getting her a smooth interview with Mr Sheng, a real estate tycoon

While she’s in the office, Victor calls her regarding the puppy apron he received

Overall, he would give brief comments on these gifts. He would only say a word of thanks when he occasionally comes across a gift which suits his tastes.

As for the puppy apron I sent today...

Before I can continue asking him about the apron, Victor has already changed the topic.

Victor: If you’re willing to spend all your time on official business, you wouldn’t need to stay up every day... work is never-ending. It’s about time to go home and rest.

MC: Eh?

How does he know that I haven’t returned home to rest yet?

I hastily look out the window. A black car is stationary under the streetlamp. Even though I can’t see the car plate clearly, my instincts tell me that it’s Victor.

MC: Why are you here?

Victor: I was just passing by.

Really...

Victor: Come down. I’ll send you home.

MC: Okay! I’ll pack my things and head down.

Victor: There doesn’t seem to be a big proposal recently. Why do you have to stay till so late?

My heart rattles, and I hurriedly find a reason to get by.

MC: Maybe my mood hasn’t been good recently, so I’m always not in the zone when doing work.

I thought Victor would respond to my words with taunting remarks. Instead his tone slows down, revealing his certainty in me.

Victor: The interview you did with Mr Sheng wasn’t bad. There’s no need to be too impatient, or give yourself too much stress. The accumulation of work always requires time.

Just before I turn the lights off, I toss another glance at the present on the table. Even though he can’t see my expression, I can’t help but smile and nod.

MC: All right.

The next day, Mr Sheng sends her an invitation to a club to meet some of his friends in the industry, mentioning that MC’s interviews have had a positive effect on his company’s reputation

She agrees because it’s an opportunity to expand her network

When she arrives at the club, Victor happens to be there too

Mr Sheng receives a phone call and leaves Victor and MC alone

Victor doesn’t let her drink alcohol, and orders her a glass of warm water instead:

Noticing me look longingly at the beautifully coloured tequila sunrise in his hand, he puts a small red paper umbrella into my cup.

Later on, MC finds herself with nothing to do, so Victor stuffs a cue stick into her hand and suggests they have a game of billiards

MC suggests that if she wins, he has to pass her proposal

She had spent two months on the proposal, but Victor had put it down, saying that it's overly risky

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve won second place in my school’s billiards competition.

While I was prepared for his taunting remarks, Victor grows silent instead.

His interest seems to be piqued, and he sits sideways on the billiard table.

Victor: You’ve left the nest?

He chalks the tip of the cue stick slowly. Seeing that I didn’t say a word, he lifts his eyes towards me, as though genuinely wanting to know my answer to this question.

Actually...

These types of situations happen from time to time. After all, no one wants the proposals they’ve worked hard on to be rejected.

As long as Victor doesn’t completely reject the proposal, I’ll keep on striving.

Come to think of it, this seems to be the first time he has commented on my efforts to keep striving.

Victor: All right. We’ll have one round.

Without waiting for my response, he has already made a decision. His low voice has a hint of joy in it.

I hold my breath and find the most comfortable angle to strike the ball. The colourful balls crash and collide, and one of them rolls in a straight line to the lower right corner--

MC: Yes!

Victor looks at the colourful ball as it rolls into the bag. His brows are raised slightly, and he is clearly surprised.

Victor: No wonder you dared to challenge me today.

MC: The stereotype you have of me is too deep. I’m not really a dummy!

Victor: A dummy’s luck just tends to be better.

My desire to win is ignited. No matter what, I’m going to fight back against his ridicule.

MC: Watch carefully - this is skill, not luck!

Victor leans at the corner of the billiard table, his arms folded. It’s as though he is intrigued, and has an expression which says that he’s going to continue appreciating my “performance”.

My cue stick moves forward, and the white ball leaves my corner, colliding firmly against a bunch of colourful pool balls, and then gets hit into the diagonal bottom pocket...

At the very same moment, I can clearly hear Victor’s chuckle.

Victor: Mm, your skills are not bad.

MC: There’s no need to be too happy. It’s 1 against 0. I’m in the lead.

Victor takes two steps forward. He retrieves the white ball from the bag, gets into position, and leans down slowly.

He isn’t anxious to enter the game at all. He adjusts the angle several times before lifting his head to look at me.

Victor: If you lose, you’re not allowed to cry.

MC: Are you treating me like a child?

Right after the words leave my mouth, the two balls that are hit roll outwards with a “ping”. One rolls into the middle bag, and one rolls into the bottom bag.

At the same time, he stands in position without a hint of hesitation, and strikes. The “ping ping” sounds of impact reverberate continuously in the room--

I lean against the wall nervously, “appreciating” how Victor makes shot after shot, striking the balls into the hole.

His calm expression and skilful techniques completely strip the game of suspense.

He stops his movements and looks at the watch on his wrist. He straightens up and arches an eyebrow towards me slightly.

Victor: Do you still want to continue?

MC: Of course we’ll continue...

My words lack confidence, but I’m someone whose resolve will not die until I reach my goal...

Victor: Don’t waste time. Let’s set new rules. The one who gets the black ball in first wins.

Victor lets MC go first, but she starts feeling nervous

Victor: Want to admit defeat?

MC: Not at all...

After a pause, I say what’s in my heart.

MC: I can’t win against you.

Suddenly, a familiar scent surrounds me.

Victor leans over, pressing himself against my back, holding my cue stick with both hands.

The cue stick controlled by Victor strikes the white ball cleanly. After a crisp sound of impact, the black ball rolls straight into the middle bag.

Victor: Congratulations, your proposal has passed.

Victor’s low voice is at my ear, tinged with a smile.

Not knowing if I should be happy or not, I mutter softly.

MC: This can hardly be called winning...

Victor: I didn’t say that you won. I already passed your proposal last night. You didn’t check your e-mail after work.

Victor’s breath descends on the side of my neck, bringing with it a ticklish residual heat and water vapour. His embrace limits my movements, and my line of sight is confined to the frizz on the billiard table.

MC: ...

Victor: This round of creativity is indeed very risky. If you lose against the market-

MC: I will win!

Without waiting for him to finish, I cut him off.

MC: If it fails, I’ll double this year’s revenue!

I express my attitude decisively. Victor suddenly lowers his head and leans even closer.

The sudden closing of distance magnifies every small detail between us. I can smell his cool and clear scent, and hear every one of his steady breaths.

Victor: I’ll wait and see.

Victor’s body temperature seeps through his thin shirt, covering my slightly trembling back.

Flustered, I try to turn around. Just as I turn my head, my cheek is pressed against his chin.

At this moment, the doors are suddenly flung open. Mr Sheng and a group of others are chatting heartily and about to enter the room. Seeing Victor and I, they pause.

Realising in shock that the position Victor and I are in appears too intimate, I hurriedly squirm out from under his arm, and stand at a corner silently.

On the other hand, Victor calmly straightens up, looking straight at the audience.

Mr Sheng gives me a knowing smile. There’s even a bit of unexpected fondness in his eyes...

Mr Sheng: CEO Victor, I was going to introduce you to two friends who just returned from Wall Street.

Victor retrieves his business card from his pocket, and a small hairpin falls onto the ground.

It’s a red hairpin with a small bowknot on it. There are even two coloured diamonds embedded on the bowknot...

Everyone’s attention is focused on the hairpin.

At that moment, a sentence flashes across my mind: I’m doomed.

With a blank expression, he stoops down to pick up the hairpin, and looks at me without a trace of surprise.

Victor: When did you put this into my pocket?

Sensing the playful glances from the crowd of onlookers, my cheeks flush involuntarily.

MC: I... don’t remember the specific moment, but I did it when you weren’t paying attention...

Victor knits his eyebrows, revealing a perplexed expression.

Victor: Another gift for me?

MC: Yes.

After speaking, I have a “since I’m going to die, I might as well make it worth it” attitude, and continue.

MC: You can use this hairpin to clip up your bangs. I think it’s quite practical when used during work...

Even though I’m certain that I’m speaking in a volume only Victor and I can hear, everybody’s teasing smiles make me feel uneasy...

Victor has maintained the reputation of a thousand-year iceberg for so long. I’m afraid it has been ruined by my hands on this night.

Victor: What nonsense are you thinking about the entire day...

While saying this, Victor puts the small hairpin back into his pocket.

Victor’s reputation is still a formidable one. Even if Victor doesn’t explain himself, the gossip of the onlookers end as soon as he takes out his business card.

All the way till the end of dinner, I obediently maintain a smile, not daring to mention the hairpin to Victor.

On our way home, after much rumination, I decide to give Victor a solemn apology. Before the apology leaves my lips, Victor brings up the topic.

Victor: I accept your goodwill entirely. Could you stop giving me gifts now?

I nod reluctantly, but still struggle with my apology.

MC: I’m sorry about what happened today...

Victor: What are you sorry for?

MC: For making a fool out of you in front of so many people.

Victor: No one will think that way.

Victor adjusts the cuffs of his suit with a calm expression on his face.

It’s as though what happened just now was really not enough to pose an issue to him.

After a few days, MC appears before Victor with a exquisitely wrapped present

👀

It’s a 32 page business report...

It contains data from the company’s monthly financial reports, business index data, word-of-mouth surveys from large-scale programs, market share, etc. ever since LFG started funding MC’s company

MC: All the data reflects that our company has had good business this year. We not only filled in the losses, but our profit margin was also 50% higher than expected.

Victor: So?

MC: It shows that you have a good eye, and have once again made a successful investment!

I expected him to simply cast a sweeping glance at it. Instead, he starts flipping through the report seriously after hearing my words.

Every rustle of the paper flipping makes my heart rattle.

I start feeling nervous for no reason, worried that he would be as he usually is, picking out all sorts of mistakes from the report, and fiercely criticising me.

After some time, he finally closes the report.

Victor: Not bad.

MC: ...

MC: !!!

Victor: What kind of an expression is that?

MC: I’m happy! Only a few gifts I gave you received praise...

Victor pulls open a drawer. While he places the report inside, he takes out a few items at the same time and puts them on the desk.

A salon card, a red hairpin, essential oil for sleep...

Victor: You want me to compliment these things?

I huff, feeling a little guilty.

MC: I... shall return to my office then?

Victor looks as though he’s about to say something, but his phone rings. I stand up quietly, silently gesturing an “I’m leaving” with my hands.

Victor: Wait.

Right after taking two steps, Victor stops me.

Victor: I’ll pick you up at 6pm.

I turn around to see him covering the bottom half of the phone. I hurriedly nod, and suddenly think of something.

MC: Have you started using the puppy apron?

Victor tosses me a glance. After a few seconds of silence, he continues with his phone call.

Fine...

I’ll record this as an addition to the “Victor Not Saying What He Truly Feels” series.

Phone Calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #MC is HILARIOUS

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