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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Toxic Taste

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] It's a perfect day for a picnic with your friends. Well, it seems like one until you suddenly fall very ill.

Warnings: very minor cursing

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: this was requested by @amintyworld! everyone just loves protective dream, don’t they? i had fun exploring this concept, and i hope you enjoy!

You hummed, fixing your hair in the mirror before giving yourself one last once over, nodding to yourself. Looks good. Just then, you heard the door swing open behind you, creaking with a quiet groan. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

Whirling around, your hand quickly grabbed the woven basket on the table beside you as you flashed Clay a bright grin, bounding over to his side with a skip in your step. “I am, now.”

Without having to say another word, he lifted his arm toward you, and you looped yours through his, your fingers tightening around the basket handle. The two of you stepped outside together, locking the door behind you before making your way down the oak path. Above you, only a few clouds dotted the cerulean blue sky, drifting along the gentle spring breeze.

It really was a perfect day for a picnic.

Turning, you cast a curious glance over at Clay. “Are you excited to see what everyone brought?”

He bobbed his head, his lips quirking up into a wicked grin. “Yeah—I can’t wait to make fun of whatever George made.”

You frowned, shooting him an unimpressed look. “George is a good chef in his own right,” you chided.

His smile widened, reaching over to gently tap your nose. “Yeah, but you’re the best.” He patted your basket cover, his viridian gaze swirling with mirth. “They’re gonna love your cookies.”

You rolled your eyes at him, snorting, but he didn’t miss the way your lips twitched. “You just say that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He hummed. “Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

You raised your brows at him. “Oh? So you admit that you’re biased?”

Leaning over, he brushed his lips against yours in a peck, pulling back with a dazzling grin. “Of course,” he murmured in that soft tone that made your cheeks grow hot, “without a doubt.”

You swallowed, trying to calm your frantically beating heart. “You’re so cheesy,” you said, adopting a passive tone, “no more dilly-dallying, now. We have a picnic to get to.”

He sent you a crooked smile. “Okay, okay.” His eyes flashed. “I’ll race you.”

“Huh, wh—?”

Before you could even process what was happening, he had suddenly bolted, his arm leaving yours. Almost immediately, your body yearned for the warmth of his pressed against yours, and you found yourself stumbling after him.

“Wait, Clay!” you called after him, your basket bouncing beside you as you watched him crest over the grassy hill. “That’s not fair! Get back here!”

He only turned to shoot you a goofy grin, laughter bubbling on his lips as he disappeared from view, his hoodie fading to nothing more than a tiny speck of green among the swaying blades of grass. You couldn’t stop the laughter from spilling from your lips, bursting from your chest like fireworks.

“You are so dead when I catch up to you!”

He called back over the horizon. “If you ever!”

Your grin only grew wider.

Oh, he was so dead.

“Your bread sucks.”

You gasped, lightly smacking Clay’s chest. “Clay!” Whipping around, you sent George an earnest grin. “George, I think your bread is wonderful.”

Beside you, Tommy made a face, setting his slice down on his plate with a disgusted glance. “Nah, I agree with Big D. This bread is pretty shit.”

Now, it was Wilbur’s turn to gasp. “Tommy!”

Tommy’s brows knit together as he scowled. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

George let out a long groan, his glasses threatening to slide off the crown of his head as he hung his face in his hands. “I am never baking, again.”

In an instant, Niki was on her feet, flailing her arms. “No, no, no! Don’t say that—baking can be a lot of fun!” She paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I can teach you a new sourdough recipe, if you’d like!”

George lifted his head, blinking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You would?”

She nodded, a bright smile tugging at her lips. “Of course!”

Sapnap snorted, taking another bite of steak. “I can’t believe you have to learn from someone else how to make good bread.”

George groaned again, glowering at his supposed best friend. “Why is everyone ganging up on me, today?”

Clay was quick to butt in. “Haven’t you heard? It’s National Be Mean to George Day.”

Tubbo blinked, confusion clouding his features. “That’s not a real holi—” He paused, then gasped. “Oh, wait.” He grinned. “Never mind.”

George’s glare only intensified, and he sighed. “Niki, forget it.”

While Niki practically shriveled into a puddle, Wilbur spoke up, offering him a reassuring smile. “Well, I think your bread is delicious, George. Genuinely.”

George flashed him a thankful grin, adjusting the glasses on his head. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

Letting out another laugh, you leaned back against Clay’s side, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as you snuggled against him. Your friends were always up to weird antics, and while you didn’t necessarily agree with their actions, you were willing to indulge in them, if only to see what would happen next. In front of you, you gingerly picked up the half-eaten fish skewer from your plate, lifting it to your lips as you took another bite. It was sweet, and vaguely tasted like saltwater, but you liked it. It was unique, in its own weird way.

You watched as Clay reached across the patterned blanket for the plate of cookies you had brought, gingerly picking one up. Glancing up at him, you opened your mouth. “Do you actually think George’s bread is bad?” you asked softly. “Or are you just trying to rile him up?”

He paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth, then shrugged, biting in. “It’s a bit of both. It isn’t half-bad, I guess.” He shot you a cheeky wink. “Yours is still better, though.”

You groaned, feeling your face grow warm. “Stop that.”

He tilted his head at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he chewed. “Stop what?” he said, leaning in close to you. “Being honest?”

You did your best to send him a glare, but you knew it was half-hearted at best. “Yes.”

His grin widened, his eyes glimmering with affectionate arrogance. “Never.”

As his eyes locked onto yours, you felt your glare melt away. With a small hum, he dipped his head to yours, pressing his mouth to yours with a smile. His tongue lapped at your lips, and you grinned back. He tasted like chocolate chips and sunshine. You pulled back with a quiet gasp, your cheeks burned with heat as his emerald eyes bore into yours, crinkling at the corners.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered for you and you alone.

Your heart swelled. “I love you, too.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, then pressed his forehead against yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Also,” he added, “you taste like fish.”

You sent him a horrified look before smacking his arm again, your heart flipping as he wheezed at your reaction. “S-Shut up!”

He only wheezed harder in response, and despite your embarrassment, you felt a smile tugging on your lips. That was the thing about Clay that got you every time—as much as he would tease you and make your heart go wild in your chest, you knew he meant every single thing he told you. He was just so sincere like that, and it made you want to sink straight into him.

God, you were so, so in love.

Just then, a howl pulled you away from your attack on Clay. You turned to see Quackity, his mouth agape as he pointed at Niki, a bewildered look plastered to her face. “Niki!” he screamed. “You brought cake?”

She blinked, stunned for only a moment before she smiled, nodding. “Yeah! It’s homemade and has vanilla frosting.”

Quackity immediately sank down to one knee, one hand outstretched toward her as he said dramatically, “Marry me.”

Niki’s smile didn’t falter for even a second. “No thanks.”

Quackity’s arm dropped, and he let out a whine. “Damn, you didn’t have to say it so quickly.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat down with a pout. “You could have at least pretended to think about it.”

You all burst into laughter, giggling as Niki simply set her cake down on the blanket next to George’s bread. Wilbur had brought three watermelons—how he carted them over by himself, you had no idea—while Tommy brought pork chops. Tubbo had also caught fish for the occasion while Sapnap packed steak. Meanwhile, Quackity had carried a sack of apples over to the picnic, but you had a feeling he may or may not have stolen them, since he didn’t exactly own an apple orchard of his own.

You opened your mouth to ask for a slice of Niki’s cake when you suddenly froze, a bolt of what felt like lightning tingling up your spine. Your head spun, and you could have sworn your vision darkened at the edges. An uneasy pit grew in your stomach, and you frowned. Why do I feel so... strange?

Pushing yourself forward slightly, you tried to sit up straight, only to feel your arms wobble before you crashed back into Clay’s side once more. In a flash, his arms were around you, holding you steady as his green eyes peered down at yours.

“Hey,” he said, his tone growing serious, “are you okay?” He wrinkled his brow. “You look a little off.”

You blinked, feeling your stomach churn with uneasiness. “I’m, um—I feel kind of sick.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Clay was on his feet, stretching his arm out to you. “Here, let me help you up.”

You slipped your hand into his, doing your best to hang on tight as he tugged you upward. You expected to simply stand on your own two feet just as you would in any other situation, but the moment you were up, you suddenly felt your knees buckle beneath you, your legs going numb. You gasped as your feet went flying out under you, your fingers digging onto Clay’s palm.

“Clay—!”

With a whirl, his arms held you to his chest, your sides shaking. A rush of anxiety rolled through you, and you looked down, desperately trying to move your foot, only to find that you couldn’t. It remained as still as a rock, and you wanted to cry.

“[Y/N],” Clay breathed, his hand on your face as he supported your weight with his other arm, “what’s wrong?” His eyes desperately searched yours for any clue as to what was happening, but all you could manage was a broken, choked whisper.

“Clay, I—” You swallowed, your hands trembling around his arm while something stung at the back of your eyes. “I can’t move my legs.”

He froze, his voice dropping to a deadly low whisper. “You what?”

You shook your head, hanging onto him for dear life. The spinning had gotten worse now, and you felt sicker and sicker by the second. “I-I don’t know, I don’t feel good and something’s wrong and—Clay,” you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes, “I’m scared.” Your heart pounded in your chest, but for all the wrong reasons. “Am I going to die?”

His gaze hardened, filling with determination as his hold around you tightened. “No,” he said without even an inkling of doubt, “you’re not.”

Before you could react, he suddenly swung one arm beneath your numb legs, easily hoisting you up so that you were carefully pressed against his chest. You gasped as your friends’ eyes landed on you, their faces full of worry as your head lolled against Clay’s shoulder.

“Everyone,” he said, his voice booming across the field, “there’s something wrong with the food.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t eat it.”

He turned his head, dipping his head toward George as he said, “George, I need you to get me as many regeneration potions and golden apples as you can, ASAP.”

George was on his feet as fast as he could, already turning on his heel. “I’m on it,” he shouted as he took off, already booking it down the hill.

Finally, Tubbo spoke up, asking the one question that had been on everyone’s mind. “Dream, what’s going on?”

Clay’s eyes darkened, and you could just barely feel his hands tighten around you while your vision swam.

“[Y/N]’s been poisoned.”

Wilbur gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Sapnap whipped his head around, gazing at the once serene picnic blanket with sheer terror. “What the fu—”

Suddenly, your hand shot up to grip Clay’s collar, his eyes immediately darting to yours. You gasped, your head absolutely throbbing as your heart rammed against your rib cage all too quickly. You opened your mouth, your spit tasting like salt and ash.

“Clay, I—”

The words died in your mouth as the world went dark, enveloping you in cold darkness.

You awoke with a start, bolting upright as you gasped, the cool air flooding your aching lungs. Immediately, you felt your stomach churn in retaliation, and your skull practically screamed at you to lie back down again. Slamming a hand over your eye, you felt the spinning of your head slowly fade away. Disoriented and dizzy, the blurriness of your vision began to lift as you blinked, taking in the sight of the room around you.

You didn’t recognize the windowsill at your side or the mattress you were lying on. The closed door stared back at you as your gaze swept over it, almost as if it knew you were confused. Not even the sheets looked familiar.

Where... am I?

You swallowed, something sharp and uneasy prickling up your spine.

What happened?

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you tried to recall the events that had led you up to this moment.

You remembered... cookies. And a picnic. Clay’s hand in yours. There was food, and laughter. Then suddenly, you were queasy. Sick. Something wasn’t right. Then... nothing.

You blanched. Did I pass out?

Just then, you heard the door click, the hinges swinging open with a creak. Your eyes flew open and your breath hitched in your throat, and you turned, your fingers curling tighter into the sheets. Your eyes went wide as Clay walked in, one hand on the handle and the other holding an apple. The moment his eyes met yours, he froze.

“Clay?” you whispered, your voice sounding hoarse.

The apple dropped to the ground.

In an instant, he was in front of you with his hands on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. His emerald eyes bore straight into yours with an intensity that sent your heart reeling. The words flew from his mouth in a flurry, his gaze never leaving yours.

“How are you feeling? Can you hear me? Is everything feeling alrig—”

“Woah, woah,” you said, waving your hand to cue him to stop, “what happened?”

His fingers trembled against your cheeks, and you could have sworn his eyes flashed with something wet. “[Y/N], oh, I’m—” He swallowed, his neck bobbing as he sent you a grateful smile. “I’m just so glad that you’re here.”

His hands pulled away from your face as he stood upright once more, heading for the open door. “Here, I’ll be back in a second.”

You raised your hand toward him, opening your mouth to say something, but he was already gone, having disappeared down the hall in a flash. Blinking, you sat stunned and even more confused than before, left only to wait and hope for an explanation once he returned.

Hardly even two minutes passed before you heard the rumbling of footsteps racing toward the open door. You squeaked when a series of faces filled the room, their cheeks red and chests heaving as they caught their breath. Clay immediately shuffled back to your side, slipping into the space on the bed next to you before grabbing your hand, squeezing.

“[Y/N]!” Niki cried, her eyes filled with panic. “Are you okay?”

Beside her, Tubbo’s hands shook at his side. “We only just heard from Dream that you were awake.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your mind still hazy with everything that had just happened. Struggling to come up with an answer, you found yourself blurting the first words that came to mind. “How long has it been?”

You saw George shoot Sapnap a look, shrugging his shoulders before glancing back at you. “Uh, like, half a day.”

You shot forward, gaping. “Half a day?!”

Tommy flashed you a bright grin, leaning against Tubbo’s shoulder with a teasing look. “Yeah, you should have seen Dream run around! He spoon fed you regeneration potions and probably even read three whole fuckin’ libraries’ worth of books on poison antidotes while you wer—”

A hand suddenly smacked into Tommy’s skull, and he yelped. Behind him, Wilbur scowled. “Tommy!” he scolded. There was a soft giggle, then Wilbur whirled, his eyes narrowing. “And Quackity.” The giggles stopped. “Don’t think I didn’t see you laughing. This is serious.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay, but it is funn—”

“[Y/N],” Clay suddenly said, cutting Tommy off as his hand squeezed yours.

You blinked, trying to ignore how low his voice sounded right about now. “Y-Yeah?”

He cocked his head at you, gesturing to the sheets covering your lower half. “Can you move your legs?”

“Um...” Lifting an arm, you flung the sheets off of you, carefully shifting your leg back and forth. “Y-Yeah. I’m still feeling kind of funny, though.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’m not sure if I can stand, yet.”

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I had a feeling this would happen, but I still wished it wouldn’t.”

Quackity took a step forward, his hand outstretched toward you. “Here, [Y/N], try—”

A snarl ripped itself out of Clay’s throat, and his shout echoed off the walls. “Don’t touch them!”

A tense silence immediately fell over the room, and Quackity back-pedalled, pulling his hand back as if he had burned it on hot coal. You watched as a pang of guilt shot across Clay’s face before he sighed. “Sorry, I mean—” He shook his head, lowering his head. “Fuck.”

Sapnap sent him a small smile, sincere and reassuring. “Hey, man,” he said softly, “it’s alright. We get it. You’re stressed. I’d react the same way if I was in your position.”

Clay raised his chin a little, his lips quirking. “Thanks, Sap.”

Wilbur suddenly spoke up, his eyes trained on you. “Dream, I think we still have some questions we should ask.”

Clay blinked, then nodded. “Right, thanks, Wilbur.” Clearing his throat, he turned to face you head on.” Do you still remember the picnic?” When you nodded, he continued. “Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

You paused, then shook your head. “Not that I can remember. I woke up, packed up a basket, walked over to the field with you, ate with everyone, then...” You gestured vaguely. “Well, y’know.”

His gaze hardened. “What did you eat?”

You thought for a moment. “Um, I ate an apple, and I had two slices of George’s bread.” You paused again, furrowing your brows. Then, your eyes lit up. “Oh, and I also ate some of the fish.”

Clay stared at you. “Fish?” he parroted.

You bobbed your head, humming. “Yeah. That’s about as much as I remember.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you could practically see the gears turning in Clay’s head. “Did anyone else here eat the fish?” he finally said after a while.

Your friends cast curious looks at one another before George raised his hand, shaking his head. “No.” He jutted his head toward you. “[Y/N] was the first and only person to, I believe.”

Clay pursed his lips. “Tubbo.”

Tubbo jumped, looking panicked and shaky as he stammered out, “Y-Yes, Dream?”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly brought the fish?”

Tubbo gulped. “Uh, it, um, ah—” He inhaled sharply at the look on Clay’s face, then sighed. “I did, Dream.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Then, Clay sighed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Oh, it all makes sense now.”

Now, it was Tommy’s turn to speak, his expression clouded with confusion. “How the fuck does that make this make any more sense than it did before?”

Clay suddenly slipped his hand out of yours, your palm meeting nothing as he rose to his full height. You felt the air grow cold.

“Tubbo,” he said slowly, casually—almost too casually. A crooked, charming smile spread across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What kind of fish was it?”

Tubbo lowered his gaze to the ground. “Pufferfish,” he said in a tiny whisper.

Tommy stared. “Oh.” Understanding flickered across his face before being replaced by horror. “Oh.”

Clay took a step forward, the grin never leaving his face. “Tubbo—”

Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto his wrist before he could take another step. His arm was tense underneath your touch, but he stopped the moment your skin met his. “Clay,” you said quickly, your words rushed and hurried, “stop, please.”

He turned, looking back at you over his shoulder. You shook your head at him. “I’m sure it was an accident. Tubbo would never poison anyone deliberately, let alone me.”

You heard a soft hiccup, then Tubbo spoke. “I-I wouldn’t, I swear it! I just... I thought cooking pufferfish would make them less toxic for other people.”

Niki raised her hand, her face pleading as her eyes darted back and forth between Dream and Tubbo. “I can vouch for him, and not just because we’re friends. He might have built up his own tolerance for pufferfish poison, but I don’t think he realized just how bad it could turn out to be.”

Tubbo nodded frantically, looking smaller than ever as he finally lifted his head. “Seriously, Dream, I would never do it intentionally, I promise.” He turned to look at you, his sides shaking as your gaze met his.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispered, honesty and desperation soaking into every syllable he spoke, “I really am.”

Your face softened immediately, and you could only hope he knew how sincere you were being. “I forgive you, Tubbo.” Your eyes flit to the man in front of you. “Do you, Clay?”

You couldn’t see his expression from where you were sitting, but the look of terror on Tubbo’s face said it all. “Yes,” he said, “but only because you do.”

Your grip around his wrist tightened. “Clay, I’m positive. Please, just let it be.” You tugged a little, and he turned, watching as you kicked your legs at him with a small smile. “I’m all better now, see?”

The coldness in his gaze finally seemed to melt, and he shook his head at you, his lips twitching. “Fine.” Walking back over to you, you tucked your legs back against you as he sat on the bed, levelling a glare at the crowd gathered in front of you. “Now everyone, get out.”

There was a whistle. “Jeez, aggressive mu—”

“Tommy,” Wilbur said again, already tugging at the blond’s collar as he tread toward the hall, “an angry Dream is not someone you want to mess with.”

Tommy glowered as everyone filed out of the room, his voice fading away as they disappeared outside. “Ugh, you are such a killjo—”

Sapnap sent you a friendly smile as his hand wrapped around the door handle. “I hope you feel better soon, [Y/N].”

You returned his grin with a grateful look. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

With one last wave, he pulled the door shut, leaving you alone with Clay. Shifting forward slightly, you swung your legs off the bed, nudging him with your side. “Clay?” you murmured, your eyes searching his face. It was at times like this he was easier to read.

With a sigh, he hung his head in his hands, the vein in his neck bulging out. “God, I know he means well, but I still kind of want to wring Tubbo’s neck, right now.”

You leaned against him, pressing your cheek to his bicep. “Clay, don’t say that.”

He lifted his head, growling. “I know, I know! It’s just—”

He bit his lip, then sighed again, his arm reaching up to pull you onto his lap. Shifting you around so that you were facing him, his leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You don’t know how scared I was,” he whispered, sincere and true. “I never want to lose you. Ever.”

Heat crawled up your neck, and your head spun, but not for the same reasons as before. “C-Clay.”

His hand stroked along your back. “It’s the truth, y’know? I’d never lie to you, and I mean every word.” Leaning upward, he pressed his lips to your forehead as he spoke, the words shaking against your skin. “You mean more to me than you may ever know.”

You hummed, your heart blossoming in your chest. “Even if that’s the case,” you said, “you don’t need to be so upset, anymore.” You felt his lips leave your forehead, and you peered up at him through your lashes. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

You leaned back in his arms, reaching up to brush your fingertips over his freckles. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him melt a little at the gesture. “Now,” you said, quiet yet firm, “promise me you won’t be mad at Tubbo the next time you see him.”

He blinked. “W-What?”

You pursed your lips. “Clay.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I promise.” A sly grin slipped onto his face. “But only if...”

You raised a brow at him. “Only if...?”

You half-wanted to smack the stupid grin off his stupidly perfect face. “Only if you give me a kiss.”

You giggled, slipping your arms over his shoulder and around his neck. He always knew how to make you laugh, even at serious times like this. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. He still tasted like freshly squeezed lemonade, gleaming in the light of the sweet summer sun. You felt him smile against you, and you pulled away mirroring his expression.

“There,” you whispered, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Does that seal the deal?”

He hummed, tilting his head at you while mischief danced in his eyes. “Maybe you should do it again just to make sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t stop the giddy smile from spreading across your face.

Your picnic may have been a disaster, but you wouldn’t mind ending your days wrapped in Clay’s arms more often.

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mikrowrites · 3 years

Text

andromeda

(vignettes cut from cottages of constellations; can be read as a one-shot)

c!wilbur x reader

summary: a series of memories from y/n’s perspective; the war, the death, the stars, the secret, and the meeting.

warnings: fluff, angst, violence, war themes, bad mental health situations, death, language, manipulation

a/n: this is basically a bunch of scrapped ideas from cottages of constellations that i shoved together bc i already had them written and have been hitting a writer’s block with pt 3. the only part of this you should regard as “canon” is the syndicate vignette, that will be in pt 3. enjoy!!

Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets.

That was not something unknown by any, not a surprise to some. The two seemed to have words unspoken, existing between the glance of an eye or a brush of a hand, a nod of a head and a ever so soft sigh. Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets to themselves and themselves only.

The cottage was one. A secret kept along a peaceful riverbank, until the price of TNT seemed higher than that forgotten paradise. There were some other secrets too. Some inconsequential, some almost burdening.

Y/n and Wilbur kept a secret they chose to not share with anyone. A secret that would be for the best if left unsaid.

But the price of freedom would prove higher and more demanding. The price for a tall brunette man to whisper the words into an enemy’s ear, for the enemy to relay it to someone who was once deemed an old friend.

The moment Schlatt spoke the secret out loud to Y/n with threatening intent, everything came crashing to the ground.

It was a secret Schlatt would die with.

—

The War…

Y/n arrived as the sun rose at dawn.

Wilbur was there to meet her, his uniform jacket unbuttoned messily and his cravat askew. As she approached him closer he smiled softly, but the smile was tired, aching, the light in his eyes dimmed by the bags beneath them.

What was the saying, “winning is easy, governing is harder”?

Y/n feared both feats were insurmountably difficult.

“Hello, love.” Wilbur sighed, striding the distance of Y/n’s approach and pulling her into his arms, holding her like a lifeline.

“Hey Wil, it’s okay, I’m here.” Y/n reassured.

He pulled away with a less tight smile, wrapping his fingers around her own, pulling her towards the majestic walls.

“Y/n L/n, welcome to L’manburg.”

And L’manburg was small, and undeveloped, and nothing quite impressive really. But it was her lover’s nation, and to Y/n it looked like a spectacle of heaven. “It’s wonderful.”

Wilbur led her into the camaravan, where battle plans and declarations had been hung and placed about, with an occasional empty bottle or a misplaced piece of weaponry.

Y/n had fought in wars before, in another life, far from this server. She had played the part of diplomat, of ally, of enemy. It was all a language familiar to her like breathing, and she suspected Wilbur was well aware, why else would he write begging her to join the front lines?

She hummed in thought, running her hands over a tabletop. “When’s the next battle, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Wilbur replied simply.

Y/n nodded. “Okay. Where do we start?”

Wilbur smiled once more.

—

The Death…

Y/n struggled against Quackity’s hold, screaming her throat raw. “YOU KILLED HIM!”

Smoke from the firework barrage still lingered on the execution box, Schlatt turning from his podium to Y/n. He smirked. “Y/n, my dear, he was a traitor. You know what happens to traitors.”

Y/n spat at his feet, the man laughing. “That’s cute. Remember Y/n, I hold all the cards in my hands. You don’t want to step out of line, remember? Who knows what secrets could get spilled.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Y/n glared, her eyes like fire as the two stood off against each other on the podium under Manberg’s watching eyes. “Because I am going to fucking kill you before you even think about it.”

Schlatt laughed loudly again, facing the crowd. “Do you hear that, folks? Miss Y/n is going to kill me!” He lowered his voice, leaning so he was face to face with her. “That’s treason, my friends.”

Y/n hardened her eyes, as Quackity let her arms go. She stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Everything was quiet, not the crowd’s jabs or cries were heard by her, not even Niki’s protests to spare her best friend.

Schlatt smiled, unsheathing his own sword as Y/n stood her ground, preparing to produce her own in hopes of taking down the tyrannical man once and for all.

“These were not the ideals of L’manberg.” Y/n shouted so the audience could hear her. “And Manberg should be no different. And I’m getting really fucking tired of you hurting everyone and everything I love. So yeah, I’m a traitor, because I value people over a country.”

“People you’d be willing to lose a life for?” Schlatt jeered.

“Time and time again, yes.” She verified.

Schlatt shook his head in amusement. “Y/n, the patron saint of L’manberg. You’ll fall as easily as any man.”

Y/n smirked, drawing her own sword. “Good thing I’m not a man then, yes?”

“STOP! Stop!”

The two adversaries’ heads whipped over, catching the glimpse of a tall brunette in a brown trench coat walking down the aisle of seats, hands out in a preventative gesture. “Stop.”

“Wil…?” The man who left her behind. The man who promised safety. The man who most importantly, loves her. The former President, to protect his former First Lady.

Schlatt’s sword ran through Y/n’s body. Wilbur screamed.

The girl gasped, grasping Schlatt’s shoulder’s with tight fingers, looking at him in shock. He had gotten the upper hand. Y/n had never lost a duel, yet this one was over before it had even started because she did the one thing she had been trained to never do in battle.

Y/n found distraction in a lover.

Wilbur would always be her hubris.

Schlatt leaned over with booze-tainted breath to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He then ripped the sword out of her, and everything went black. The last thing Y/n heard before waking up laying in the soft grass of a forest was the sound of Wilbur shouting her name.

Y/n was killed by JSchlatt

—

The Stars…

Long ago, in a world different from where she was now, Y/n’s mother had taught her every constellation strewn across the night sky. The young girl would marvel at her mother, eyes shining with curiosity and awe as the soft-spoken woman would point to each cluster of stars.

Life was simple then, before war after war Y/n was forced to fight and win. Before aching loss and hurt.

Y/n laid on the angled roof of Philza’s house, her lips parted slightly as her eyes traced designs of warriors and beasts and lovers. Her breath fogged into the night sky, the girl indifferent to the cold surrounding her.

“Kid, what’re ya doin’?”

She flicked her eyes down to where Technoblade stood beneath her, staring up at her form with disinterest but yet a glint of confusion or curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her eyes traveling back up to the sky. “Chasing constellations.”

Technoblade definitely had the right idea to be a tint worried at the sight of Y/n on a roof, staring off into nothing. It had been a week and a half since they had both blown up New L’manberg, and her mind was undoubtedly conflicted. Techno supposed if he were in the same situation, he’d feel the same perhaps. But now (though he’d never show it) he was just concerned of the well-being of his old friend.

So Technoblade was immensely surprised when Y/n patted a spot on the roof next to her and said: “cmon”.

The blood god was silent and still for a moment before pulling out his trident, using it to launch himself up and land gracefully onto the roof next to her. The girl didn’t flinch a bit, just turned back to the night sky.

Y/n looked tired, Techno noticed, but yet relieved. He hadn’t seen her this relaxed since their last war fought together away from this server, where she had spoken of a kindhearted brunette she was running away with after the battle’s conclusion.

Technoblade sat next to her, the girl sighing. “No more wars, Techno. I’ve fought my last one. I’m tired of being a pawn in someone’s game, of breaking myself for others.” Y/n huffed out a laugh. “I think I might try that retirement plan.”

“Retirement is overrated.” Technoblade groaned. “So if I made you an offer, you’d refuse?”

Y/n shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “Depends on the offer. I’m pretty done being taken advantage of.”

Techno turned to look at her. “All these years and you don’t trust the proof I wouldn’t.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having trust issues.” She grumbled. “What’s the offer?”

“I’m putting together a group of people with common ideals. Anarchy, we’d be there to abolish these kingdoms’ governments before they can cause more death and destruction, cause more Wilburs.” Techno explained, the girl turning to him at the sound of her ex-lover’s name. “We’re called the Syndicate.”

Y/n murmured the name to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. “Who’s we?”

“Philza and I. Zephyrus and Prostileus. And, potentially, you.” He stated. “Codenames.”

She turned back to the stars, silent for a few minutes. Technoblade patiently sat in the quiet, letting the girl mull over her thoughts. It had been about five minutes when he spoke up. “So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n pursed her lips, before parting them with a soft exhale. “Andromeda… call me Andromeda.”

Technoblade smiled at his old comrade in battle, now considered an ally and friend.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Andromeda.”

—

The Secret…

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she had sat in the makeshift cell. Had it been days? Weeks? She didn’t know. All she knew was locked away to stand trial for “aiding fugitives in escaping”.

Her thoughts drifted to Wilbur, as they usually did in moments like these, where she fought desperately to remember the sound of his laughter or his loving assurances. Y/n hoped he and Tommy were safe, and she knew they were smart so they would be.

But she feared for Fundy as well. They had spoken on the night he announced his campaign for president, their hushed voices behind the podium as the rest of the server were asleep.

Y/n met the boy in the shadows of the podium, Fundy looking at her for some kind of reaction. Would she shout in anger? Cry in sadness? Running against his father was a betrayal, he should be reprimanded by the closest thing to a mother he had.

Instead, she smiled, and hugged him.

Fundy tensed in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as his hands clutched the back of her jacket.

“You know I have to support and stand by your father,” she started, softly rubbing small circles into Fundy’s back. “but it will never overshadow how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you, mama.” He sighed out, Y/n smiling kindly.

“You are my pride and you are my joy, Fundy. There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you less. Don’t forget that, okay?” Y/n asked.

Fundy nodded his head against his mother figure’s shoulder, still embracing her.

He missed the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip to keep her walls up. Indulging in this moment wasn’t something she was deserving of, and she knew that.

She had chosen to forego this path, it would be unfair of her to try and act as though she hadn’t changed everything.

The door to empty room creaked open, Y/n looking up to meet the eyes of a man she had once thought of as an old friend, but now some who repulsed her more than anything on this server. The man smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Schlatt.” The name sounded like venom on her tongue, Y/n glaring at the man with dark eyes.

“How are you, hm?” Schlatt pulled a chair over for him to sit on, Y/n scoffing in disbelief.

“I don’t know Schlatt, you tell me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you were our friend!” She shouted.

Schlatt sat back in his hair. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m a president here to run this country.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, the man smirking.

“I want you to join me.”

That made the girl start to laugh, shaking her head. “You are something else, Schlatt.”

“I’m serious, I want you to join me and Manberg.” Schlatt deadpanned.

“Fuck off.” was Y/n’s reply.

Schlatt sighed, standing from where he sat, and paced to another side of the room. “Tell me, does your little lover boy have an infatuation with TNT?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware, and if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Schlatt said, his footsteps clacking against stone as he further paced. “Well, he recently made some deals with the devil and came into possession of a lot of fucking TNT. You wanna know what he traded for that much power? Secrets.”

She stiffened, eyeing Schlatt warily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Secrets?”

Schlatt hummed, grinning. “Oh yeah. Loads of ‘em. I’m a chronic eavesdropper, so I had to get the scoop. And you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Y/n stood slowly, like an animal bracing for a fight, her fists shaking. She uttered the man’s name in warning, Schlatt stopping and turning to her with a wicked grin.

“You have a child.”

It felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, Y/n momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. Schlatt laughed, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fundy’s actually your son! Biologically and everything! And you never told him, you just left!” Schlatt exclaimed.

Y/n burst forwards, slamming Schlatt against the wall and lodging her forearm across his throat. She spoke with a low, dangerous voice. “I was young. I was stupid. And I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t be the mother he needed.”

“So you left. And then you come back and you play the part of his mother, while the poor boy thinks your lover fucked a fish? That’s fucked up, Y/n.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n pursed her lips, glaring into Schlatt’s eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt slowly removed Y/n’s forearm from his throat. “I want you to join me as one of my officials. I want you to betray Wilbur and Tommy. And if you don’t…”

“… I tell Fundy your big secret… and then I personally kill him until he’s dead.”

Y/n felt completely and absolutely defeated. She had never let someone have the upper hand on her. Not like this. She remained distraughtly silent, Schlatt nodding Ashe received his answer.

He reached into his pocket, throwing her comm device onto the floor. “Lover boy’s been trying to call you for weeks. You should call him back one last time and tell him to never call again. You know what’s at stake.” Schlatt then turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll have a fine pressed suit for you tomorrow morning and a more comfortable room, then the real work begins. Goodnight, Y/n.”

And he was gone.

Y/n fell to her knees, her body shaking with fear and guilt. Why did she have to be so stupid why did she have to create such deep-sewn weaknesses, why did she leave her son?

She reached for the comms device, her trembling fingers clicking a button as she spoke out in a terrified whisper. “Wilbur?”

—

The meeting…

Y/n hated parties with a passion she could not fathom. The celebration of another war won, a country saved. She was just a wandering soldier, moving from one battle to the next, finding celebration a little tone-deaf.

But nonetheless she stood in the banquet hall, her sash of medals and patches detailing her great accomplishments hung on her frame, with the world’s most uncomfortable dress covering her. Technoblade had told Y/n to liven up, drink and dance a little, though what a fucking hypocrite because he didn’t show up.

Y/n sipped her champagne, leaning against the bar top, a bored expression laid across her face as she traced circles into the wood with her finger. She didn’t register the boy standing next to her, eying her with curiosity before he spoke up. “One vodka neat, please.”

She finally indulged to meet his gaze, the tall brunette smiling and offering his hand. “Wilbur Soot.”

Y/n knocked back the rest of her champagne, before shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n.”

“You seem bored, Y/n L/n.” Wilbur observed.

She scoffed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So I can tell.” He quipped, Y/n beginning to question the audacity of this kid. But he just smiled widely, pulling a stool and sitting next to her.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but if it’s getting in my pants tonight it’s definitely not happening.” Y/n bluntly responded.

“Woah there! Take me out to dinner before we discuss that.” Wilbur defended, retrieving his drink from the bartender.

Y/n couldn’t even tell if the man was joking, but she rolled her eyes anyways. He was silent, she could tell he was trying to size her up. Figure out what made her brain tick, how to read her.

Must be frustrating for him to know he can’t.

She sighed, pulling away from the bar top, smoothing out her despised dress. “Well, thanks for the chat Wilbur, but I’d best be going.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Y/n.” Wilbur raised his drink and tipped it towards her in a kind of toasting or saluting gesture. She was a high ranked militia official anyways.

Y/n nodded and walked away, Wilbur watching her as she left. What she didn’t know, was he could read her like an open book. He saw her pain, her guilt, her stone disposition. But he saw her kindness, her generosity, her beauty. Wilbur was intoxicated by the mere presence of her, and her mystery.

Wilbur just had a gut feeling they’d cross paths again. And when they did, maybe in a space she was more comfortable than the loud and cheering party, maybe he’d offer her a drink, or even a dance. The boy slammed his drink on the table before standing, and rushing across the room.

Why wait when you know?

Y/n felt a gentle hand on her wrist, the girl turning to see Wilbur. She raised an eyebrow in question as he released his soft grip, and held his palm flat out in front of her. “May I have this dance.”

She had seen years of pretty boys offering her drinks and dances and the world. Each disappointed, each never following through. But Y/n looked up at Wilbur, and she could see the world in his brown eyes, she could see hope and chivalry and mirth. She pursed her lips, the boy seeming to deflate at her monotone and silent response.

Y/n took his hand, to the boy’s surprise. “One dance. That’s all.”

They danced all night. And laughed all night, more than Y/n had in years.

Y/n had never felt more alive than the night she met Wilbur Soot.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dsmp x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader

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rainbowtransform · 3 years

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Anon who asked about Foolish here's the prompt. Foolish just has enough of the server and breaks Dream out of prison with Micheal. They take him, Michelle, Punz whose is their brother to another server. Foolish takes Purpled too cus he is not leaving the boy where Quackity can manipulate him. He also yells at Puffy telling her that when she remembers she has her own children and actually wants to be in their lives to come find them cus right now they're done being neglected by her.

:) all /rp

The note he’s left for his mother is simple: this is your choice.

He once asked, years ago when his powers were just coming in again (and that’s the problem with dealing yourself, if that you’ve got to wait for the little things) who she’d choose if it came down to between her family and her job.

“You,” she said, gently pulling Dream’s arms through his pajama shirt. “It will always be my family first.”

(But then, Foolish wants to protest, why did you leave for months on end? Why do you leave Niki alone? But he refrains. He loves his family, has a brother who is close to how he is, and two mothers who love him very much. His mothers are trying their best.)

But they’re not right this time. Foolish knows this and his mother has chosen her pathway. (He’ll miss her, he’ll admit. But his brother needs to be safe.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Purpled is a kid. He’s a kid who saw his home get blown up by TNT by Quackity, to try and build a nation that will eventually be torn down by its Own citizens. Foolish sends a calling card, and gives him coordinates. Asks him to take care of someone else.

Michael McChill is an amazingly energetic person, who has broken three blocks into the prison and is raring for more.

Michelle is hard to pull out of Puffy’s home. Puffy’s trying to keep her happy; but she’s not Michael. Michelle is not okay with staying inside and no other kids to play with.

Punz doesn’t answer, but Foolish keeps him in the back of his mind. If he ever gets back to him, Michael will be the one who deal with him.

But now, Foolish and Michael wait. They’re watching the prison. Foolish sees Quackity March in, all righteous air and chin high.

(Foolish sees him leave with blood on his clothes, cheery and waving goodbye.

Foolish sees red.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

They’re waiting at the cords when Foolish rides up, mindful of Dream in his arms. “He’s hurt.” He tells the teenager and Michelle. “But he’ll be okay.”

(There’s a brother who is most like him, laying on the floor of a prison cell crying.

There is a brother like him, who holds onto Foolish’s hands like a lifeline.)

They ride out further, away from the SMP and the blasting alarms. Sam’s lost his canon life and Foolish almost growls before he remembers the person still with him.

They go hundreds of blocks away. They Zig zag and sometimes Michael even steers his horse a different way to confuse others. Purpled is more lively the more they get away from the SMP and Michelle sniffles.

“It’ll be okay,” Foolish says quietly to her. “Papa’s… not good right now.”

Michelle nods, and keeps her eyes straight forward. She’s a brave girl, Foolish knows. Brought to the Overworld to be a friend, just to be trapped a second time without one. Foolish locks his pinkies with one of her own hooves. Michelle smiles and Foolish looks ahead.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream heals. Foolish coaxes him out of the house sometimes, let’s him stay outside for as long as he wants and takes him back in when it gets too loud or overwhelming.

When Dream doesn’t flinch at the tiniest movement anymore, Michelle sticks with them. She presses little kisses onto Dream’s forehead when he’s leaning down, and then kisses her fingers and pats them around his legs and arms.

“To keep you safe.” She says.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Purpled ends up rebuilding his UFO, looking up proudly at it and wiping sweat off his forehead. “I’m not going to go home just yet,” he tells them at dinner. “But I’m thinking of it soon.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Dream says “don’t get caught in the SMP. There’s a bunch of things you need there, right?”

Purpled shrugs. “My fuel’s just there. Nothing else really. I’ve got some bread and stuff that I can eat on my journey. It won’t take long. Probably two or three weeks at best.”

“Be careful. Quackity’s still looking.” Michael says, shrugging off a coat.

“It’s been like three months,” Purpled says, annoyed. “Really?”

Michael sits down next to Dream’s seat, nudges his arm away a little bit, and then takes a porkchop. “Two people he wanted to be with Las Nevadas, one of the strongest growing nations up and disappear with a prisoner and a daughter of Puffy’s? He’s probably going to be looking for a long time. It’s only the fact that we’re so far away and that we’d basically destroyed the way up here that we haven’t moved on yet.”

“We need to, though,” Foolish says. “The UFO can move right?”

“Yeah it just can’t go to space,” Purpled reassures. “And we’re moving?”

“We were waiting until Dream feels up to it, and healed enough. We shouldn’t be going far, but we’ve got to take down anything that even makes people think we lived here.”

Michael shrugs. “The Warden won’t rest easy either. Dream was his only prisoner, and he is ready to get him back at any cost. This isn’t your fault Dream, we’re not turning you back in, don’t even think about it.”

There’s a quiet moment before Michelle asks to be excused so she can go play outside.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You whisper to FoolishGamers: we need to talk.

FoolishGamers whispers to you: no

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The trees look lovely today. Sometimes Foolish remembers he was a millennial younger and when his first family took him to the park, or whatever was considered a park back then.

Foolish is older now. He knows enough about what you must do in order to satisfy the voices in your head and how to help others. He almost lost his brother. A brother who holds more power than they can imagine together.

He watches Puffy walk out of the trees. Her hair is vibrant and colorful and Foolish remembers when he was younger and she used to live she used to let them braid it. But there’s only so much that memories can allow.

“Foolish, my son,” she says. “Will you please tell me what have you been doing.”

“I’ve been taking care of my family papa. You wouldn’t get it you abandoned Dream when he was in the prison.”

“He hurt children.”

“He did,” Foolish acknowledged. “He did. But he didn’t deserve torture. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve what the prison did.”

“It’s best for us if he goes back in.”

“I thought that you wanted to talk because you were going to apologize. But if you’re not going to wear down here you we all love you and we are your children. When you decide to love us back, when you understand why we had to do what we did. Then you can come and see us and you can stay with us.”

“Foolish,” she starts and he shakes his head.

“No. I’m not going to listen to anything anymore. I’m keeping my siblings safe. And I’m keeping Purpled safe because he does not deserve to be in Las Nevadas being manipulated by the man who let my death happened.”

And with that, he turns away.

#dreamwastaken #dream smp #Michael mcchill #foolish gamers #purpled #rain’s writing #asks #answering Asks with Writing #:)#heheheheheh #Captain puffy #c!captain puffy critical #c!dream positive

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